Miracles of the Heart

During February, the month of hearts and valentines, I want to recognize some special people at Olathe Medical Center. Saying thank you to them seems wholly inadequate, but it’s a start.

Two weeks ago Sunday after we sat down to breakfast, my husband’s eyes shifted to one side and he nearly toppled from his chair. I grabbed him. “You’re fainting.” I was startled, frightened. “Something’s wrong. We need to go to the ER.”

He looked at me, now fully alert. “I fainted? Really? How did you know I fainted? I’m all right.”

I protested.

“Well, at least let me eat my waffles first,” and he began eating.

About ten minutes later when my back was turned, he fell from his chair to the floor, face down. I called 911. Since my husband had had a stroke four years ago, we thought perhaps he was experiencing a mini stroke. The medics were at our house within minutes, checked his vitals and prepared to take him by ambulance to the hospital. They advised I wait at home and call the ER for an update on my husband and for Covid protocol instructions.

The first time I called, Dick was having a test. I waited almost an hour before I called again, and they immediately put me through to the doctor. He didn’t mince words.

“I’ve been trying to call you. They’re wheeling your husband into surgery as we speak. His heart is not working. He needs a pacemaker. Can you get to the hospital?”

I was not expecting that. When a doctor says “. . .get to the hospital . . .” My own heart was in my throat. When I arrived at the hospital, I was led through Covid-empty halls to the completely dark and empty waiting room at surgery. I sat down. No lights, no TV, no magazines. Just me and God, waiting in utter darkness and me wondering what would I do if they came through those doors and said, “We did everything we could.”? What would I do then?

We were spared. Dr. Yarlagadda came from the surgery suite and said, “Your husband is doing fine.” He continued talking, but I don’t think I heard much after that. He’s fine, he’s fine. Flooded with relief I made my way to the ICU and found Dick with his new best friend inside his chest, a temporary pacemaker to be replaced the next day with a permanent one. The doctor told us later the lower heart chamber was not responding to the upper chamber’s electrical impulse. If they hadn’t implanted the pacemaker when they did, he likely would not have lived.

I don’t know how many patients have been admitted to the ER for treatment in the two weeks since Dick was there or how many pacemakers have been implanted. What I do know is dedicated health care professionals perform miracles every day, which are breathtaking and life changing to us, the recipients.

There are many people to thank: Dr. James Sebghati, Dr. Ravi Yarlagadda and his pacemaker team, and Dr. Norman Bamber; ICU nurses Amy and Angela and floor nurse Gabriel. There are others who deserve our thanks in the ER and ICU, whose names we don’t know. We thank all of you, from my heart and my husband’s steadily beating pacemaker heart. Your intervention at precisely the right moment saved Dick’s life and added years of togetherness to both our lives.

And to the Hand that guided the events of that day and every day may we be deserving of His love and mercy and continued blessings. “Give thanks to the Lord for He is good; His love endures forever.” Psalm 106