I came home to my husband, sitting silently at the kitchen table, his head bowed. Believing him to be in prayer, I silently began stowing away groceries. A minute later, he spoke.
I think I had another heart attack.
He described to me his symptoms, and we were on our way to the hospital.
Hospital closures in our area have caused ridiculous wait times in the closest facility available, and while I certainly wanted my husband to receive good care, I was annoyed with the conditions. I was annoyed that this was going to be "today." I was fearful this could be the start of many "todays" like it. It was hours later when I returned home with our youngest. My husband had been kept for observation, and we had routine minus one to rejoin. As I moved about, I was reminded how interrupted the day had become. The laundry I was planning to fold still peeked at me from the dryer window. The ingredients for what was supposed to be dinner greeted me when I opened the refrigerator. The bills I hadn't gotten a chance to pay remained piled on my desk. Books I was preparing to ship out were stacked on a corner of my desk, the box empty on the office floor. I'd had big plans for the day, and yet, life had somehow interrupted my living. Knowing how tedious the discharge process could be, I knew the following day didn't hold much more promise. I could feel the stress and anger rising. When is all of this supposed to get done? Why does our life seem to be one step forward and two steps back? What is the meaning behind all of this? The questions, the mania, the fears --all things that will derail us when problems arise.
The following morning, as I awaited my husband's Good-to-Go, all of my earlier disappointments (?) annoyances (?) interruptions (?) came to mind. I mean, laundry, meal prep, paying bills, standing in that line at the post office. Is that really living? I guess it could be. Liturgy of the Ordinary. And Every Moment Holy. Right? Any other day, I might be griping about all of the mundane tasks that plague my calendar. What had I gotten to do the previous day? I got to sit in a hospital waiting room and pray. For my husband. For the woman who was threatening to leave if she wasn't treated immediately (She was still there when we left for the day). For the man who was unconvinced he should be sent home. For the person with dizzy spells and the child bitten by a dog and the man who couldn't see. Prayers that would have never made it past my lips had I been matching socks or chopping carrots. I got to read a great book; not in the normal way --read a page, let the dog out, start the next page, let the dog in, notice the time, rush through the second page, forget who Turner is, go back to the first page... I got to sit and read! Absorb it, enjoy it! I got to have dinner with two of our children; I got to spend the following morning with our son. Not atypical things, but there was a sense at that table and in starting our day, that we somehow needed the company of one another more than usual. I got to smile at someone on the elevator and have a friendly chat with someone at the registration desk. I got to taste the hospital cafeteria's Tikka Masala (which proved to be pretty good). I got to enjoy the sunshine as I walked to and from the car. I got to do a lot of things that I had not scheduled but were instead given me by the Heavenly Father who works all things together for my good.
My husband is well, praise God. He is definitely going to live. And, it appears, we'll live together!
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