Okay, I've been given the assignment to write how it went that fateful Sunday of Mom's heart attack. I never wrote any of it down, so my memory has become a bit sketchy in some places. But it was significant that I think I remember most of it. Some of what I will write here are specifics that others remembered and I didn't.
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After Dad, Mom, Annetta, and Michael left for the hospital and even before, the food on the table lay untouched, including what was already on the plates. We'd made baked oatmeal for something a bit different, but no one ate any of it that morning. We couldn't really settle down to anything. It was totally up in the air as to what we were going to do that day. Would we go to church or not? Add to that the fact that we absolutely didn't know what was going to be happening with Mom. Was it the heart or the stomach or what?
I think the children just kind of wandered around; one or so might have read a book. I did some research on heart attacks and blood clots, and found that especially the heart attack symptoms matched Mom's symptoms, but not so much the blood clot symptoms. I also sent out emails and text messages, and received a flurry of replies. I talked with Dad several times, and, after he knew, he told me it was her heart, though what exactly it was they didn't know at that time. They were flying her to Omaha.
Dad made arrangements for the Grices to take us to church. They came very soon after that. I still had to get the little girls ready for church, or at least finish getting them ready. And I still had to finish getting ready myself. The Grices waited patiently for us, bless their hearts. Finally, we were off. All the food was left on the table. It was a different church service in more ways than one. I, for once, had to take care of all the little ones, which wasn't difficult, just different. And the air conditioning in the church wasn't working, so it was loud with fans, and warm and stuffy. I have no idea what was preached. After church I talked with Dad several times. Mom had had a catheterization, he said, and would need to be in the hospital for observation a few days. I was relieved; that didn't sound so very terrible. I think at that point we still didn't really understand the situation or the gravity of it so well. But we did know that Mom would likely be okay, and that was what mattered (at that point, anyway).
The Grices took us to their almost-cold air conditioned home for lunch and for the afternoon and for who knew how long? Emily took me home for some things. In my inexperience of motherhood, I had forgotten diapers for Rhoda. At home, the food still sat on the table; I put a bit of it away, but left most of it.
Later that afternoon it was decided that I would go to the hospital to be with Mom for the night. Dave and Mary Grice took me in. Of all things, the nurse on duty in that large hospital was one that Mary had had a little over eight years earlier in a small town hospital when she had a blood clot. Mom was in a crowded little room, just off the nurses' station, the hub of activity and noise.
Dad, Annetta, and Michael went home, and the rest of the children were brought home from the Grices.
Ironically, I enjoyed staying at the hospital. I love hospitals. I'm sure, though, if I could have I would have chosen different conditions to stay at a hospital overnight, especially a large city hospital. It was definitely a different experience, and certainly not very restful. For my sleeping quarters, I had this very firm recliner, in the which I had the choices of sitting up halfway or sitting up all the way.
Sometime, maybe around one something in the night, I was pointed out the door for a time, for hospitals require a great lack of privacy for their patients. I went to the small waiting room, and was disappointed to find that I wouldn't be by myself. And if my memory is correct, I do believe that woman was reading a newspaper, at maybe one something in the night. Later, someone said something about homeless people coming to the hospital for a place to stay nights. And it could well have been, for this was North Omaha, the area where you would find the majority of homelessness and poverty, as well as crime. I regret now that I didn't talk to her at all. What a chance to witness. Anyhow, I sat and looked out the large window at the lack of traffic and busyness. It was a unique night, and certainly not altogether a bad one. I must say, though, that the day before wasn't so unique (in a nice way at least), but God's grace was sufficient for our need.
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