This is a TikTok I made on Sunday, which was Patrick's birthday, after we called 9-1-1. We had been sitting on the couch watching the latest Croods movie when his defibrillator went off. It was the biggest shock I've seen him receive in years. He felt sick yesterday but that's understandable. When your heart is whacked with that much electricity, your entire body reacts similar to "tensing up," because it's waiting for another shock. It used to take him months to fully recover. Luckily *insert major sarcasm here* his "normal" is at such a low level that it doesn't take long to recover these days. Once he gets back to feeling crappy, he's good. Sort of. Last night he told me he usually feels really good in the morning. It's hours after he last ate so there is no nausea. And his body has rested for hours so his heart is calm. I felt confidant in waking up at 6am before everyone else so I could get a couple hours worth of work done in the garage. He called me at 7:43am to ask if the kids were awake. I said no and he hung up. I resumed my work. I was setting up the garage to assemble and stain 16 toilet boxes for this weekend's bazaar. And after earlier this week when I forgot to hook up the shop vac to the table saw before cutting those 16 toilet boxes, I had quite the mess to clean up. I had just set up our folding table, which he said he would also need to make ulus later today, when he called again. It was 7:52am. I said, "Hello?", fully expecting him to ask for help with the kids. All I heard was moaning. I knew exactly what that meant. I dropped everything and entered the house, where Lily met me to say something was wrong with Dad. I reached him in seconds, and he was coming down from a significant event. I called 9-1-1 again, but by the time I finished talking to them he was almost fully recovered. This one had hit him hard. He was shaky and weak. His chest hurt. He was feeling sharp pains, and complaining that he was tired. I packed his bag and unlocked the door so the medics could come in. "I'm sorry, Haley." He kept saying it over and over. Sorry for leaving me alone with our four kids and two grandkids. Sorry for not allowing me to finish my work in the garage. Sorry for worrying me. I reassured him several times that he didn't have anything to be sorry for. I hugged him. I packed a baggie of Dandy Blend for him, which is his caffeine-free coffee substitute, and a mixed baggie of Hazelnut and Vanilla creamer. At least in the hospital, if they allowed him to drink, he could have his morning coffee. So here we are, me at home with the six kids and he at the hospital, fighting to be allowed to stay there. What a mess we're in. I don't have any updates. He hasn't even seen the cardiologist yet, but is having active events all the time. Small ones, easily paced out by his pacemaker. I'll keep updating here. I try not to post too often, but I also have no idea how this week will play out. He may come home and not have another event for days or weeks, or he might tell the hospital he wants to be flown to Seattle when they tell him they would like to send him to Anchorage. No one knows. Thanks again for all the prayers and well wishes.
Haley Holland
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