I don't have many regrets in my life. I can probably count on one hand the number of events that have taken place during my 47 years that I wish I could do over. One of those events is this:
I was laying on a gurney in George Washington University Hospital in DC the night of August 13, 2005. I went in complaining of chest tightness, a sore arm and lack of breath (gee, what could I have been experiencing?) After a few tests, they told me that I had a heart attack and that I may need surgery. These are tough words to hear when you are laying on a gurney in a hospital all alone. I called my brother Matt so that at least someone back home knew what was going on, but instructed him not to tell anyone else about it, especially our parents. (That wasn't very fair of me to do, but that's not the regret.) GW admitted me and I underwent a stress test, which I failed miserably. The doctor then planned a heart catheterization for the following morning, which is when a small camera is inserted into an artery in your groin and fished up through your body to take pictures of your heart. Amazingly, you are awake for the whole process, and you can even watch it on a monitor.
It was at that point, prior to the heart cath, that I felt it was time to loop in my parents. So I called my Mom on the phone to bring her up to speed. Her immediate response was, "We're on our way." It's at this point that I did the regrettable thing: I insisted they not come. I felt my reasons for telling her to stay home (which was a 3 hour drive from DC) were valid:
A local ambulance company from my hometown came to get me in DC and drive me back home. When I got to the hospital, my mother was in the parking lot. Heaven only knows how long she had been there - perhaps all day. When the EMTs opened the back doors of the ambulance to pull me out on the gurney, my mother kissed the bottom of my foot because that was the first part of me she saw.
As I go through my life, there will be hours if not even a day perhaps that I won't necessarily think about my folks and what they are doing at that moment. But I guarantee not 30 minutes pass without me popping into their heads. They can't help it. They're parents. All they know is to love, think, worry, wonder, and dote on me from the time I was born.
I put them in an awful position 8 years ago and I have apologized to them for it. I know better now.
I was laying on a gurney in George Washington University Hospital in DC the night of August 13, 2005. I went in complaining of chest tightness, a sore arm and lack of breath (gee, what could I have been experiencing?) After a few tests, they told me that I had a heart attack and that I may need surgery. These are tough words to hear when you are laying on a gurney in a hospital all alone. I called my brother Matt so that at least someone back home knew what was going on, but instructed him not to tell anyone else about it, especially our parents. (That wasn't very fair of me to do, but that's not the regret.) GW admitted me and I underwent a stress test, which I failed miserably. The doctor then planned a heart catheterization for the following morning, which is when a small camera is inserted into an artery in your groin and fished up through your body to take pictures of your heart. Amazingly, you are awake for the whole process, and you can even watch it on a monitor.
It was at that point, prior to the heart cath, that I felt it was time to loop in my parents. So I called my Mom on the phone to bring her up to speed. Her immediate response was, "We're on our way." It's at this point that I did the regrettable thing: I insisted they not come. I felt my reasons for telling her to stay home (which was a 3 hour drive from DC) were valid:
- We didn't know at that point if I needed surgery or if I would be released with medication.
- I didn't want my folks shelling out money for a hotel, meals, parking, etc. in DC.
- My parents know nothing about DC and how to get around. Hell, it's hard for people who live in Northern Virginia. I would have been worried sick about them the entire time.
A local ambulance company from my hometown came to get me in DC and drive me back home. When I got to the hospital, my mother was in the parking lot. Heaven only knows how long she had been there - perhaps all day. When the EMTs opened the back doors of the ambulance to pull me out on the gurney, my mother kissed the bottom of my foot because that was the first part of me she saw.
As I go through my life, there will be hours if not even a day perhaps that I won't necessarily think about my folks and what they are doing at that moment. But I guarantee not 30 minutes pass without me popping into their heads. They can't help it. They're parents. All they know is to love, think, worry, wonder, and dote on me from the time I was born.
I put them in an awful position 8 years ago and I have apologized to them for it. I know better now.
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