They rushed me into the Triage section, hooked me up to a machine (an ECG) and within
minutes, I was told what I already suspected – I was in the middle of a heart
attack.
There was no time for hesitation.
The cardiologist was called, and preparations began for an angiogram which
would then determine if angioplasty would be sufficient or, in the worst case
scenario, immediately to a bypass surgery.
Ninety minutes later, I had
survived. And now, one week later – I am still alive.
The Blessings I Notice
On looking back, I note that there are so many things to be thankful for.
Among them:
1. Listening
to my inner voice:
Usually when faced with a similar situation (where I am not feeling well), I
would normally have resisted going to the hospital, convincing myself that rest
would be enough. I would very likely just go to bed thinking that if I just
rest, I would be fine.
In fact, that was exactly what I started doing. Having cancelled my appointment
(and feeling guilty about it but convincing myself that it would not be fair
to my client for me to proceed if I could not be fully present for him), I
decided to go lie down and rest. But an inner voice urged me to act differently
this time. That decision likely saved my life. So, I got up and called my son
to inform him I am checking myself in to the hospital. He offered to come over
immediately to take me to the hospital. I declined and said I would go over
myself. Another unusual and “right” decision that might have had resulted in significantly
different outcomes.
2.
Proximity of care:
There is a private hospital immediately opposite where I live. It’s just a
stone-throw away – not even requiring crossing a major road to get to hospital.
No traffic, no delay – just a short walk that made all the difference. I just
walked myself over and managed to check myself in.
3. Strength
in weakness:
I am still amazed how I managed to get to the hospital and to check myself in as
I was already experiencing significant discomfort in my chest, pain extending
down both my arms, and sweating profusely. I felt like I was holding off and
ready to pass out which is why I could not complete filling up the admission
form. By the time I was wheeled into the Triage area, my vision was already quite
blurred. Even as my vision blurred and my body weakened, I managed to give
verbal consent to be wheeled off for the next procedure. That small act of
perseverance gave the medical team the chance to intervene.
4. Swift
response:
As this is a relatively new hospital and not very big – there wasn’t the
usual long wait for people to be assessed and admitted. They were able to triage
me, call in the cardiologist, and prepare for the necessary procedure at what
seemed to be lightning fast. Speed was everything. In total, from admission
through the entire angioplasty procedure – it probably took no more than 90
minutes.
5. Competent,
compassionate staff:
With a set of very professional, competent, and friendly staff – they were
able to do all the necessary – and while I was informed earlier that they would
likely require a minimum of 3-days stay – from HDU to ICU to general ward – for
observation, eventually the doctor was comfortable giving me a discharge after
just a 2-night stay. With a total of four blockages: three being 90% blocked
and one other at 100% – I am pleasantly surprised my situation is not worse
than it is. Their professionalism and kindness carried me through the procedure
and the two nights of recovery.
6. Support
network:
Not least of all – I am most grateful for is having family members (including
siblings rushing back to KL from out of town), friends who dropped what they were
doing to come to the hospital immediately, and many other well-wishes including
clients & former clients, students & former students, colleagues and
associates – so many sending prayers, blessings, and healing energy. I felt
held by a community larger than myself – I was not alone. I am not alone.
As I think about all those who showed up (in person or otherwise) — family,
friends, clients, students … even those I may not have seen or heard from — I
am reminded that none of us are ever truly alone. Sometimes, it takes a moment
like this to see more clearly the people who are already there, quietly holding
us in ways we may not always notice.
The Path of Recovery
Since being discharged, I have been recuperating at home. It has not been a
smooth everyday since my discharge. As we are all very aware of – “Healing is
not linear.” There are moments of “recurring discomfort” – whether they are “real”
or imagined. Bouts of high and low energy. Inability to remain focused on any
task (which I am not supposed to be doing anyway) as my “brain” seems to go out
of focus and into a “fog” – becoming tired out very quickly.
As I consider all that has happened
over this past week – and possibly the journey of recovery ahead – I am mindful
there is so much to be grateful for … so much I AM grateful for.
I think about my interaction with
all my clients over the years. The things I have shared with them – especially when
they felt they were at their wit’s end – where they may have been experiencing a
sense of “hopelessness,” of “depression,” of overwhelming “fear” or “anxiety.”
What was my role? How was I able to be present for them? Was I able to hold
space for them? What can I draw from those experiences to bring to my own
experience now? How do I hold space for myself?
During moments of weakness – not just
physical but also mental when I feel “less than adequate” – unable to do so many
things that needs to be done. Feeling like my brain just literally shuts down even
over the simplest tasks. Continually experiencing: compromised stamina, an
almost empty battery struggling to recharge, a continuous choice – of my brain
or my heart shutting down.
Yet, in each moment of weakness I
am reminded of the fragility of life – and the gift of still being here. Right
here – right NOW. I am learning to hold space for myself, just as I have held
space for clients in their moments of despair. Perhaps this is my “physician,
heal thyself” moment.
Facing Mortality
I remember there was a moment when
I was in the hospital when my son asked me something along the lines of “ … is
it scary .. are you afraid …” I am not sure to what he was referring – the heart
attack experience or the procedure I just came out of (since there was no
general anesthetic and I was conscious throughout) – but my answer, without
thinking, went something like “I am not really too worried if my time is up.
That, I am not too worried or scared of. However, I would like to at least be
able to get out of the hospital and be given a little time – at least – to put
somethings in order. I may not be able to set everything right as I would like,
but at least clear up some stuff.” I remember, then, offering a silent prayer
for an extended time (even if just a little) to put some things in order.
What I feared was leaving things
unfinished – relationships unrepaired, words unsaid, responsibilities
unresolved. In that moment, I prayed for more time. Not endless time, just
enough to set some, if not all, things in order.
It would seem my request has been granted.
And so, for now, I choose to honour this time … to notice, to appreciate, and
to gently put in place what I can … one moment at a time.
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