An Affair of Hearts: Family Moments

“It’s time to go to the hospital, something’s wrong with me” my father said one morning recently after a few weeks of feeling short of breath, fatigued and overall malaise.

Three weeks.

Not a rare personality in life, my father is the type of man that will put off things until things have gone completely off the rails and the fix requires more extensive (read: expensive) repair than had they been taken care of at the first sign of disarray.

Unfortunately, growing up and being linked to one of these people can be/has been at times exasperating, enlightening and all around mind boggling. You come to accept them for who they are and have an idea of what to expect or how to plan ahead to avoid any potential bullshit, but whew the rollercoaster.

However, we were not at all prepared for the reality we were smacked with.

Maybe we were/are just as negligent and have inherited even some of the same trait I just mentioned. We both went to work that day, were getting texts from my father about how he was getting tests, an ultrasound and how things were ‘looking good’.

Maybe we thought it was something simple enough that could be cleared with medicine, if it was perhaps a lesser form of covid or pneumonia as debated.

Upon getting to the hospital that night, we found out he had a silent (or maybe not so silent given the shortness of breath) heart attack at some unknown time. In addition, he was riddled with pneumonia and his kidneys and liver weren’t looking great.

After losing one parent, a certain sense of detachment comes with the territory in these more crucial moments of life. After the rest of the first night was spent in a slight state of heartbreak, the next day was approached with business as usual.

What else was I to do?

Outside of being attentive and making sure or hoping that this man was getting better by day to day, I couldn’t lose my mind or be shaking with fear every second – what good would that do?

After almost a month between stays at the hospital and a rehabilitation center, he was back home recuperating, but this journey was and is far from over.

While he was in the hospital, I tried to get a handle on everything that would be necessary post-trauma.

That included the medications that would be needed and getting the bundle of them at a reasonable price, a hilarious oxymoron.

It included finding an even mildly suitable physical therapy spot to help him get back on his feet.

It included trying to file a SPOA (single point of access) application through the county to have a person that could assist us with anything and everything of the aforementioned and more in a knowledgeable and efficient manner.

I’ll admit it: I floundered in this situation and wasn’t weaving as seamlessly through the portals and layers of it all as I thought I could or would.

We all must face this beast at various points in our lives for both ourselves and those around us, whether it be a child, parent or spouse etc.

Navigating the healthcare system in these emotionally heightened matters, while educational, is also eye-opening and frustrating to euphemize. The aggravation of it all is a sentiment most of us experience as it doesn’t appear to set us up for success or easy handling.

The system and big pharma are money making machines and you have to be your own teacher, detective and champion, trying to not miss any crevice to get anywhere because they will nickel and dime you at all times.

When they talk about the American healthcare system being all types of fucked up, this is what they’re referring to. Every country has their problems, but getting what feels like basic treatment should not be one of them.

But let me not get political.

As I said, I stumbled quite a bit during this process. While I was/have been taking a very ‘it is what it is’ approach to it and not getting overly worried beyond the first couple of days that it happened, it does take a toll.

It all feels like a blur. With a job, relationships and other things to contend with, finances being involved in most of them, it is extremely easy to be lost in a fog of confusion or complacency.

Maybe I’m disgustingly self-centered because I’m in a space of life where there are moving pieces that I’m trying to get in order and keep a handle on, like a new job, a new apartment and quite frankly, being a put together human being on a daily basis. Life is good, but it’s not simple.

Moments like this require sacrifice, big and small, for the ones you love. That seems like a very ‘no shit’ statement of course, but you realize that it comes about in unexpected ways.

A serious medical event shakes up your world and means you have to make yourself available when it’s not convenient, potentially take periods of time off of work, assist your loved one with things that normally didn’t require attention and so on.

Life is a full circle experience and part of that experience is the concept of our parents getting older and therefore grappling with the reality that they will be dead one day. It’s a mixed bag of feelings.

On one hand, this is life – I’m not thrilled about it, but it’s coming down the pike. On the other, it’s a weird world to imagine not having any type of parental figure in your life because it’s all you’ve ever known up until that point.

Even at this age, the thought makes you feel like an orphan with no guidance. That meme about ‘when you need an adult, but you ARE the adult’ comes into play, but with no humor.

I have friends that would call me dramatic for pondering the topic in this way. ‘Oh, he had a heart attack and now he’s out and about again’ will be the inevitable response to some of the thoughts I just mentioned.

Right, that is true – if all goes well with medications, follow up appointments and my father’s approach to life going forward.

The current statistic is that 1 in 5 or 20% of people who have had a heart attack will be readmitted to the hospital for a second one within five years.

The odds are in your favor by that measure, but still, it’s a sobering piece of information.

All of that, no matter your sentimentality or detachment, the truth is our parents are getting older and from what I hear, most of us are experiencing shades of it.

From light or major forgetfulness about prominent details or a conversation you had two days ago to slowing down physically to being a little more prone to stubborn, occasionally ornery behavior, the ways age shows itself can be glaringly noticeable or a little more inconspicuous.

Pivotal moments and events like this happen all throughout our lives.

They remind us of all the cliches about how ‘tomorrow isn’t promised’ and ‘time is precious’; they’re cliches for a reason though as they’re accurate, no matter how much of a eye-roll hearing them evokes.

There’s something both beautiful and depressing about these shifting sands of time. You really appreciate the little moments, like quality time together watching a sports game or favorite TV show, or the bigger events, like a milestone birthday.

They also feel painful as even if, like me, there’s a general ‘it is what it is’ attitude, the matter of fact is that these times don’t and won’t last forever.

However, in THIS moment, it’s also great to go forward with a refreshed perspective because even the most sunny of us lose sight of things sometimes.

I begrudgingly became more adept in dealing with healthcare providers and the system’s many portals, although honestly I still feel like I have a blindfold on, swinging at a piñata – where is it?!

I realized time and time again the concept of being on top of your health. Exercise, therapy and diet are all the hallmarks of course, but even routine check-ups at the doctor, dentist and other locations where there’s usually a candy dish are vital.

More than anything, despite my cold beside manner reagarding what will lay ahead eventually, these moments teach the pure value of living every day with a little more intention and joy.

There’s practicality in the reality of dealing with things, but there’s also a bliss in enjoying the simplicity of everyday moments because they mean so much more than at first glance.

I’m sorry to wrap that up like one of those Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul books of yesteryear, but.. maybe they were on to something.