10 Things My Second Heart Attack Taught Me  - #6 No Amount of Gratitude is Enough

When you struggled into the Emergency Room, no matter what was going on, someone took the time to ask you what was going on. If your issue was not life threatening, you likely had to wait. 

But if those first few questions and tests showed you were in imminent danger, then a time warp opened and people moved faster than the speed of light. 

Before you knew it, you were on a stretcher in a trauma bay, staring up at a light bigger than your bed. You had one doctor talking to you about what was happening, what they were thinking, about options for treating you. There were a lot of people moving around you but it was hard to focus on more than the one talking to you.

You suddenly have your top off, stickers stuck all over you and lines hooked up to machines you couldn't see. But you could hear the docs (by now there are more of them) talking about the squiggly lines coming out of you. When you ask a question, they stop and try to answer it, even if it is with a non-answer (we are waiting, we don't know yet).

You try to lighten the mood by mumbling a joke but everyone is focused elsewhere. People come and go from the room, poking, prodding, sitting you up, laying you down, getting more and more information from your body. 

They work around you in sync with each other, handing over items just as they are being asked for, calling in new people, ushering others out. 

By now so many have come and gone that even your feeble attempt to recognize them has stopped (you have after all worked with them for nearly 10 years)....

The doctor talks you through a drug infusion while another assures you they know exactly what is happening to your heart....and nearly 5 minutes later you wake up but don't realize you were unconscious....what you don't know is that for 4 minutes one of the doctors (luckily the smallest one) has been on top of you doing CPR while the others manage all your other issues....the drug infusion is known to cause full arrest and you have one. You didn't feel anything. 

Once you are back, you  notice the room is much more crowded, and people are all busy doing things you can't seem to wrap your head around. They sit you up and do an xray to see if CPR caused any broken ribs...luckily not. 

You projectile vomit across the room...it feels like slow motion and you luckily miss everyone in the room except yourself. 

Someone is talking in your ear explaining things...and your main doctor asks you what day it is...you smart mouth back "your birthday" cause you remember them talking about it and think you are terribly funny.

Things slow down as they get you ready to fly you out to a tertiary site. You try your best to remember all who came through your room but there were so many....they were all so efficient half the time you didn't even realize they were doing something to your body. The only emotion you feel is gratitude.

How do you even begin to thank these people. They held you up and kept you from dying. They focused on you despite anything else that had happened to them that day, or things going on at home, or in the world. For those hours, you were the only thing they thought about and that is why you lived. 

The best thank you is to live a long life and remind others that these extraordinary people do this every day of their careers. Thank them by honouring them. Thank them because when you need them most they put everything else down and help you. 

They are the best human beings. Love them with all your heart and know that it will never be enough compared to the gift they gave you.

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1 Comment

  1. Wow! Now that's powerful! Thanks for sharing this event with us.

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