Sunday, August 28, 2011

She's Bionic Pt. 3

When the phone rings before 6 am, it's always bad news. Right? Nobody calls you at 6 am to tell you they've won the lottery. No, they call you sometime late at night, 10 or 11 pm, and they are drunk somewhere...maybe even in the bar of a Caribbean island where they have decided to live the rest of their rich, happy lives.
when my youngest sister Jen died, we got the call from the hospital at 5 am and if I recall, my father-in-law passed away before 6am. So when the phone rang at 53o I have to admit, I was nervous. I answered the phone and it was Mags. She was relatively calm and the she started the conversation normally, "were you asleep?"
"Yes,'s 530. What's wrong?"
She responded with the following. "Everything is okay but there's something I have to tell you. Now remember, everything is ok."
By this point I know that things are not, in fact, ok. Now my heart is racing.
"What is wrong?"
"My heart stopped last night?"
Me mumbling incoherently. "Whaaaaaaat?"
"I'm fine. They are actually saying my heart only paused."
Me still trying to clear the cobwebs and digest this nugget of information. I tell her I will be right there. She says to take my time that she's ok.
I feed the boys and let them out into the yard for a few minutes before hitting the road to Philly.
The ride is ok because of the early hour and I get there in about an hour. I make it to the ICU and find my wife sitting up in bed struggling with the awful hospital food. In all honesty the staff at HUP is fantastic. Freakin' awesome. Everyone who works there from the Docs and nurses to the food service folks to security...everyone. The food however, falls into the other end of the spectrum God-awful is what I'd call it. I at one point said to Mags "It cannot be that bad." She gave me a look and pointed at her French Toast. "Try it." So I did. I mean, how can you make bad French Toast? The kitchen at this hospital can. I can only say it tasted like foam peanuts covered in sugar-free syrup. Horrible.
So, back to Mags. She was sitting up in bed looking totally wiped out. She relayed the previous nights event to me best she could. Apparently at some point she felt like she was going to pass out, then she felt it was something more and began to moan as she lost consciousness. Her bitch roommate was yelling at her because she was trying to sleep and yelled over and over at Mags "What's wrong with you? Just call the nurse!" Her heart having stopped, she could not. Thankfully the nurses did come into the room and notice that Mags heart had stopped. They had put special pads on her chest and were getting ready to zap her when Mags came to. They were all talking to her, asking her questions, and really trying to get a feel for what exactly had happened.
At this point they decided to get her back to CICU pronto. So, as Mags tells it, there is a group of 5 nurses, doctors and interns, all rushing her in her bed down the halls and into the elevators to get her to CICU. Once in CICU they set her up in a new room and she is told she will be kept there for a day or two for observation.
Her nurse for that weekend (during the days) was a young African dude named Alpha. I honestly can't tell you how great this guy is. Seriously, top-notch. Great guy. Great nurse.
So I spend the day with Mags at HUP. I run across the street to a little sandwich shop called Potbelly Sandwich works (Freakin' awesome subs. If you can find one check 'em out.) for some lunch. And later to McDonalds for dinner.
6pm rolls around and I tell Mags I should head home for the boys but that I will be back tomorrow. When I leave she is in better spirits and seems to be doing better physically. I tell her I'll see her tomorrow and head for home.

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