~of my father's heart~

Medically speaking, my father's heart was very bad.  Before the age of 50 he had already suffered his first heart attack and in the years prior to his death from lung cancer at age 59, his heart condition was always a constant concern.  I learned at a very young age what the term angina referred to as well as knowing that the pocket sized tin of nitroglycerin pills that my dad kept with him at all times could well save his life some day.  To me it was always such an ironic thing that cancer would take his young life instead of his heart condition.  I guess I always figured it would go the other way for him.

I was wrong.

I am his daughter and when I started having chest pains at school on Tuesday of this week, I decided it was time to make a quick trip to the emergency room to see what was going on.

I'm the kind of person who prefers to ignore things like chest pain.  I like ignoring stuff like that in the hopes that it will, given enough time, go away.  But on Tuesday morning they did not and shortly before 8:00 just as the kids were ready to come in from the playground, I made the decision to finally tell someone about it.  Thankfully my dear friend Toni was nearby and she helped to expedite the decision making process.  My good friend Sarah stepped in to take my class and another good friend Amy drove me over to the hospital in Montrose.  Within an hour of my arrival, I was already hooked up to everything imaginable and when the doctors learned of my father's heart condition, they immediately scheduled me for a stress test to see what was the matter.  Looking back on it today, I am so glad that I made the decision to go.  Waiting was not a good option for me nor would it be one for you, should you experience the symptoms I was having.

I kind of like erring on the side of staying alive.

Now visiting the hospital, having a stress test, allowing total strangers to put needles in and hope they found a vein that worked was definitely not on my list of "60 things to do before turning 60 this year".  I was going to save that for my "list of 90 things to do before turning 90" in 2045  but it just didn't work out quite the way I planned.

The day might not have worked out the way I had intended but it did work out the way that God had planned.

I was allowed to come home yesterday at the noontime and I promised to do just what I said I would by going in and putting my feet up until Mike came home from work.  My stress tests, EKG and all the accompanying blood work showed my heart to be in fine condition.  The doctor told me to lay off the caffeine for good in the hopes of lowering my ever escalating pulse rate. I told him that I'd been kind of busy and that life had been somewhat stressful as of late.  He reminded me that stress indeed makes people sick.

Not like I already didn't know that.
A good reminder none the less.

I learned a couple of things along the way, one of which are the 6 words you least want to hear someone say as they are trying to draw blood from you.

"Well, that vein blew up too."

My veins were less than cooperative and the huge bruises up and down both of my arms today bear testament to that sad fact.

I also was reminded how sometimes the best medicine ever given to anyone who's feeling a little bit punk will find itself delivered via the heart and spirit of a little child.  One of "the 20" is a sweet child named Lizzy and that little one knows her Bible.  I spoke with her on the phone Tuesday evening in the late hours while I was waiting quite impatiently for the doctor to show up and give me the results of the tests.

It was wonderful to hear her tiny voice and in my sadness from not feeling well and things just not working out as I had planned, I said to her~

"What's your favorite Bible verse?"

"John 3:16", she told me back.

"For God so loved the world, that He gave his one and only begotten son.  Whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."

Out of the mouth of a child, those beautiful words came and truly my anxiety and impatient feelings began to subside.  The next morning towards lunchtime, I was allowed to go home.  Today I went back to school and rejoined "the 20" and I promised that I would always be there for them.  They need never to worry.

My father's heart may have been physically in bad shape but it was also filled to overflowing with kindness and love for others.  My heart comes from him and I think that he would be happy to know that mine is still very healthy and alive.  He loved me very much for I was his little girl.

And by the way, I still am and always will be.

The finest man I ever knew was my father.  He died at age 59, the very same age I am today.