My father had a heart attack Saturday evening- its mild my family assured me [as much of an assurance as anyone can give when the words heart attack are involved]. He’ll be fine, the doctors said. He exercises daily, watches his diet and the initial tests prove promising. Except the initial tests were wrong. He wasn’t fine. So not fine that the doctors showing the video of the blockages explained my father’s well being as occupying the realm of miracles and fortunate happenstance. The initial insistence of there’s no need to come fell to the wayside. We packed our things that evening to drive the eight hours to my parent’s home hoping to get there in time for his open heart triple bypass surgery.
There’s a Rumi poem I read in college and while I no longer can recall it verbatim, its essence has always remained in my heart: One fine day Prophet Muhammad steps out from his prayers and as he moves to put on his shoes a bird swoops in, snatching the shoe away. Overturning the shoe from the sky, a snake falls out. The bird that first appeared to insult the Prophet infact saved his life; the truth of the initial moment not evident until later.
In much the same way, the heart attack which at first appeared to be a devastating blow, in fact turned out to be a polite tap tap to look behind the curtain and see a staggering amount of blockages that were it not for the mild heart attack would never have been detected- until- well- I don’t want to think about it.
He’s still in the ICU. He’s not officially out of the clear but the darkness that settled over my heart is lifting as I see him open his eyes, then speak, then sit, then stand. I apologize for the vagueness of my last post- somehow giving what was happening words made it seem more frightening- more real; but I wanted to tell you that your comments? They were like a hug, a shoulder squeeze a reminder that even in my darkest hour I wasn’t alone. The fact that you reached out means more than you know. Its in your most difficult moments you see who truly cares, and it is in these difficult moments support of any sort is needed the most. Thank you.
Sometimes I get very bogged down when I consider the power of prayer. Why do some get answered and others denied. I cup my hands in supplication and wonder how to begin asking when so many others ask for the same and do not receive. While I still struggle with these questions I can no less pray for his recovery as I can choose not to breathe. Please keep us in your prayers, your support means more than you know- may things only get better here on out.
[I also apologize about the delay of the blogging give-away, I’m not in a place to mail things out but hopefully in a few weeks time I will get to that. Apologies once more.]