This is going to be a long one. What's that new acronym? TL;DR? Too long, didn't read. Well, I hope you read this. This is an old photo, but I kind of like sharing photos of Patrick that warm my heart. In this one Lily was about 18 months? Or 2? Somewhere around there. She has always adored him. My heart is heavy these days. On Wednesday night at 6:24pm I was on the phone with Patrick. He had called just before the girls taekwondo class ended, so we were at the Shopper's Forum Mall and he was home. He was calling to tell me he wasn't feeling well and that he had had a couple of heart episodes that afternoon while with a client, and one just before he called me. This was not unusual. Since going off the Mexilitine and then the Tikosyn he'd had episodes not quite regularly, but often enough to be concerning. And by "episodes" I mean irregular rhythms. Arrhythmias. Some that needed to be paced, and some that possibly needed to receive "therapy" from his defibrillator - shocks not strong enough for Patrick to feel. I can't remember what he was saying on the phone but mid-sentence he started to say he felt like a shock was coming. "Its coming. I feel it, Haley. Oh God. Oh Jesus. Haley-Haley-" And then there was a commotion and I could hear his voice from a distance so I knew he had dropped his phone. He was still talking to me, telling me he just got shocked, that I needed to pray, that it hurt. I tried to tell him I was going to call 911 but I didn't want to hang up on him before he got his phone back (he normally recovers pretty fast from the shocks). He did pick up his phone just a couple seconds later, and he told me he had been shocked and that no, I didn't need to call 911. But then it happened again. That's when I grabbed Samuel, brought him to where Michaela was sitting on a bench with her tablet, and told her to hold onto him. I told Patrick I was going to call 911 and again, I don't remember all that was said. But maybe 10 seconds later, after I had grabbed Laura and Lily from class and told them we needed to go, Patrick told me to call. I told him I loved him and hung up. I dialled 911 as I told the kids we needed to go, because Daddy's defibrillator had gone off. What else do you tell them? Hurry, we need to go home so I can make dinner? I don't lie to the kids. They know Daddy has a bad heart. They didn't question me. They left their dobok's on (taekwondo shirt and pants) and hustled. I was proud of them. A recording played on my phone. I was on hold with 911. Talk about a wtf moment. Patrick said he also called 911 and the same thing happened. We were both on hold for about 20 seconds before someone picked up. We left, heading out to the truck while I spoke with the 911 operator. This whole time I was trying to stay calm, wondering as I always do, was this the one? The episode that needed shocking but that the defibrillator wouldn't help. That question goes through my mind every damn time. At one point she asked me, "How are the medic going to get in the house if its locked?" All I could tell her was that I didn't know. I probably should have told them to break the door down. What I didn't tell her was that I was speeding, the whole time thinking, "My phone number is on my truck! My phone number is on my truck!" And going through scenarios of what to respond to people when Enchanted Faces showed up the next day on Facebook Bad Driving groups. And I imagined being pulled over and crying and screaming at the officer, "My husband is at home dying! Let me go!" I don't know. Maybe imagining wild scenarios kept me from actually crying? I do it a lot. Coping mechanism, anyone? I got there just as the first fire department vehicle was opening their doors. I didn't wait for the kids. I jumped out and made sure the door was unlocked for the medics. After that things are a blur. I made sure the kids were on there way in and went to Patrick. He was downstairs (like I said, quick recovery) because he had unlocked the door for the medics. I didn't know I had "unlocked" an already unlocked door. It didn't even register in my mind. We talked, laughed, answered questions, and went about what seemed like a "normal" visit from the medics. I pulled out pill bottles, moved things out of the way, gave Patrick's personal info. Then the medic told us Patrick was having a [insert medic lingo here... acute st elevation posterior infarct with inferior extension]. Google says that's a heart attack. And it was happening while Patrick was sitting up unsupported in one of our dining chairs, EKG electrodes all over him while he made dirty jokes and tried to get the medics to understand he's a celebrity, and, "Where do I know you from?" Needless to say, he went to the hospital. I gave him a kiss and he was gone. I was left with plastic trash from the rushed medics, Patrick's blood from his IV in our tablecloth, and kids wondering what was for dinner. I want to say I come from lines of very strong women, but if I'm being honest, I want to say we are all strong. It's in our blood. Our DNA. Our genome. I cleaned up the trash and the blood, made the kids dinner, and waited. Patrick told me later that night that he would be starting Tikosyn again. They would move him to the ICU, and he really wanted to come home. He came home yesterday, on Friday. They called it 3 days in the hospital when the doctor initially recommended 5-7 days. But this wasn't our first Tikosyn rodeo. Patrick responded well, as was expected, and probably bugged the nurses enough that they couldn't wait to see him go. Yesterday he was on the phone with me while a nurse was in the room. He said, "So you'll be here to pick me up soon?" I responded, "Sure. I'll pick you up Saturday." (He taught me how to be snarky). I heard him tell the nurse and her response was, "Oh! I like her." 😏 ::: I just want to pause here and say if you've made it this far, thank you. I'm long-winded, but I do have a lot to say this time. ::: So... implications. The ablation did not work as wonderfully as we had hoped. Patrick felt like a million bucks when he came home from Washington in May. At the time he was on both Tikosyn and Mexilitine, but the intent was to eventually come off both, which he did. The arrhythmias came back, but they seemed minor. But this last month they have increased. There have probably been so many that he doesn't tell me about all of them. As it turns out, according to a doctor at the hospital, Patrick has them all the time. During the day, at night, 1am. 2am. While he's sitting, walking, working. The ablation doesn't seem to be working well enough to put off a heart transplant for the 5 or 6 years that we had hoped. I don't know what the next step is. He has a follow up scheduled with his doctor but these cardiologists have to discuss it between them - the team he has up here, the electrophysiologist in Washington who did the ablation, maybe even the transplant team. So we don't know what's next. All we know is that it has been recommended he stop all caffeine, and to drastically cut back his sodium intake. Lord, help me. No coffee? Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers. We are stressed, scared, and worried for what the future holds. And Patrick is the king of Put On A Happy Face (but I didn't tell you that...)
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