“All my hopes and dreams are gone.”
That is what Patrick told me this morning. He had what he believes was a small v-tach before leaving the hotel for the airport. It’s the first one since the ablation.
He is so disappointed. He is praying it was a twinge; just part of the healing process. But deep down he believes it was a v-tach, and the ablation failed.
I know he also had high hopes that somehow the ablation would help his stomach issues. The last time he weighed himself at home he was 161lbs. While that is a healthy weight for someone who is 5 feet, seven inches tall, the fact that he has lost 55lbs in six months with no end in sight is disheartening, and he hates it.
He did well during the time he spent in the hospital recovering. He ate salmon and yogurt, both of which would have been impossible before he left.
But he also wasn’t moving, and he likely still had a bit of pain medicine affecting him. He told me this morning he had an egg and a piece of sausage, and any activity after eating still causes great discomfort. This time the cardiologist said he would write a referral for a gastrointestinal specialist. That appointment can’t come soon enough.
For the last couple of years it has felt like our family is in a state of flux. The constants in our lives are outside forces that we cling to - friends. Family. Church. Offered prayers. When this ablation felt like “fixing” Patrick could be too good to be true - really, what other option did we have but to hope and dream?
Patrick’s positivity is astonishing at times. Sometimes it’s a front for when he is feeling really hopeless. But often it’s probably the only thing that gets our family through. His positivity is like a lifeline. His statement this morning about his hopes and dreams being gone made me cry later, when I told a friend about what he said.
If our family was a mobile, Patrick would be the cross beam at the top. He is our anchor and our support. And I am the strings, held up by his strength but fully supporting the physical and emotional wellbeing of our kids, who hang at the ends of my sanity.
A gentleman came into our shop a couple days ago who was probably ten or fifteen years older than Patrick. He said when men watch their elders, and sometimes their siblings or cousins or friends, die for any reason, they often look at the world in terms of expiration dates. When will it be their turn? If so-and-so died at 60, will I make it to that age? Are my days numbered?
I explained that while Patrick may be preoccupied with similar thoughts, he has turned that outlook on its head. His favorite, morbid, go-to joke is, “I’ve got them beat.” Every day he prays he lives longer than his mom. 84. 85. 86. This fall he will be praying he makes it to 87. Lofty goals for someone who is expected to get a heart transplant in the next couple of years, but we all know what the alternative mindset is. And dwelling on our expiration dates, wishing they were printed on the outside edge of our left heel, is simply not healthy.
The power of positivity is indeed powerful. Never forget that. Be the ray of sunshine that Patrick is, and feel that power in your hearts, because a young, vibrant love of life is invaluable.
I will write an update again soon.
* Photo by KTVF *
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