Angels Around Us

 

I've been in medical situations a few times that scared me.  When I was the one who was sick, even deathly ill, I never felt afraid.  I didn’t feel a need to reach out to God because I believed He was watching over me.  It was different when my husband Rich was hospitalized.

Soon after our son, Billy, was born,  my late first husband Rich developed a cold with a deep cough that wouldn't go away. I begged him and begged him to go to a doctor but he’d stubbornly refuse.  “It’s just a cold!” he insisted.  It sounded like he was gargling with water when he talked.

 

I’d heard a voice like that before.  My 70 year old uncle spoke to me in a gargly voice after church one day.  “What’s wrong with your voice?”  I’d asked.

 

He’d sighed and answered, “It’s heart failure.  My lungs are filled up with fluid.”

He added quickly, “I’m taking medicine for it.”

 

My uncle’s face had been ashen and I remembered I hadn’t felt very convinced about the effectiveness of the medicine.

 

Rich became weaker throughout the summer and early fall.  We loved to take walks before Billy was born.  Now I’d have to stop and wait for Rich, who’d grab onto the stairs going up to our apartment and gasp for breath.  He’s only 27, I thought.  He’s tall and strong with long legs – I shouldn’t be able to outwalk him!

He finally went to the doctor, who had an X-ray taken of Rich’s lungs.  After he looked at the films, the doctor explained that Rich’s heart was enlarged.  He sent us to the emergency room at Laurel-Beltsville Hospital. When the cardiologist came to tell me what was going on, I guessed, “Is it congestive heart failure?”

 

“Yes,” the doctor answered.  He asked questions about Rich’s medical history and shook his head, puzzled.  “I don’t understand why someone so young would have heart failure.  I want him to go to Johns Hopkins Hospital.” 

 

When Rich was discharged, the cardiologist gave me medical records to take to Johns Hopkins.  I couldn't help myself--I peeked. At the top of the record it stated that Rich should be considered for the transplant list! I was shocked to the core. I hadn't realized myself how very serious this was.

 

At prestigious Johns Hopkins, the doctors ran some tests and realized that Rich had Marfan Syndrome.  We'd never heard of it before. A doctor from genetics came to the room and explained it. Marfan syndrome is a congenital disorder of connective tissue. So anywhere there is connective tissue (lungs, heart, eyes, you name it) there is the potential of aneurysms and other problems. In Rich’s case, his aortic valve had become stretched out and was causing blood to flow back into his heart chamber.

 

“He needs to have surgery now,” Dr. Baughmann, the surgeon, explained. 

There was a new surgical procedure which had only been tried a few times before. Rich's aortic valve would be replaced with a mechanical valve. Then part of aorta itself would also be removed, replaced with a reformed graft and then the aortic root would be regrafted onto his heart. Rich was scheduled to go into the hospital for surgery on Dec. 27th, 1987.

I phoned my parents using Relay to tell them what was going on and to ask them to come and stay with Billy, who was only about 6 months old. They came, albeit grudgingly, the night before the surgery. When I got up at 4, my parents were already up.  “Why do you need to leave so early?”  my father asked in American Sign Language.

 

I couldn’t it!  “So that I can be with Rich before the operation.”

 

“Yes, but he has nurses to take care of him, doesn’t he?  Why do you have to go so early?”

 

I still couldn’t believe my eyes.  Numbly I asked, “And what if this is the last time I’ll talk to him or hold him?” My dad had no answer for that.

I was in the hospital waiting room for hours and hours. I had a cross stitch that I worked on. “God, please take care of Rich and guide Dr. Baughmann’s hands.”  It was the longest day of my life. I didn't leave until I saw Rich being taken to the recovery room. It was scary to see him like that, his eyes shut and intubated. He was alive and I thanked God.

Rich did well during the recovery period after the surgery and was eventually released from the hospital the second or third week of January, 1988. When we went back to Hopkins for a six week follow-up, though, Dr. Baughmann wasn’t very enthusiastic about Rich's prognosis although he sort of "danced" around the subject. It was obvious he was waiting for someone to ask him the question (“what are his chances, Doc?”), but neither of us did.

After we got home and Rich went to bed, though, I stewed and stewed about it. I had a secret--I knew I was pregnant again. So I called the doctor and asked him to tell me the truth. The doctor sighed and said, "I would estimate his life expectancy to be five years or less. I would not buy a house or have any more children with your husband. I'm sorry." That was it.

Well, I had asked.

I didn't have anyone to turn to in Maryland. The family I loved was in New York, and because Rich had been out of work for so long, we couldn't afford the phone anymore. Rich was able to collect disability but it was only 1/4 of his salary. We then got a bill from the health insurance company that if we wanted to continue with benefits, we'd have to foot the whole bill.

I was already making decisions about which was more important: formula or heart medicine? We didn't really know many people in the neighborhood and I hadn't been in a church since we moved from New York. As for my parents--they'd made it clear that Rich's condition and our need for them to babysit our son so I could visit Rich was a major imposition on their lifestyle and that I was "taking advantage" of them.

One night, I especially felt all alone. The baby started crying, and I went into the room and picked him up from the crib and just held on to him, trying to comfort him. I started to cry myself. I didn't know what I was going to do or how I could go on knowing Rich might die at any time. And here I was, pregnant again to boot!

It was dark in the room. All of a sudden I felt arms around me and I just about jumped out of my skin, I was so scared. And I "heard" a voice say, "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. I'm going to stay with you. You'll be all right." I stopped crying and thought, what is this?. I must be losing my mind for sure! All I "heard" was "You're not alone, I'm with you now, everything will be all right." It felt like someone was hugging me and my baby. I started to relax then and to feel comforted.

A day or two later, my cousin Mary called out of the blue. She'd come to Maryland from New York, had heard from an aunt that Rich had had surgery and wanted to come over. She came over with boxes of food and clothes for the baby. She'd also brought money that she collected from relatives in New York. I was so relieved.

Rich was too weak to care for Billy during the day while I was supposed to work. I was missing time and was afraid I would be fired. The health insurance was willing to pay for a nurse to come and check up on Rich but would have absolutely nothing to do with helping him care for a baby. Mary said she could do it for a few days.

As she was leaving, she said: "By the way, I just want you to know that I prayed for you and Rich and Billy. I imagined the three of you in a circle and the angels standing around you, their wings enfolding you in an embrace."

Wow! That sent chills through me! I hadn't told her what happened and so she didn't know about what happened to me. I'd heard of angel stories before. I believe in angels and although I was confused at first, when I realized what was happening I was comforted by the presence of the hugging angel. I didn't feel scared anymore.

All that week, I started getting checks from other relatives. Rich's sister called from Pennsylvania and said she would come and stay with us two weeks to help us out. When his father found out what my parents did, he took off two weeks from work to come down and help us. We were still struggling, don't get me wrong, it wasn't all of a sudden we were rolling in dough, but we also weren't in danger of being evicted or Rich being unmedicated or the baby neglected or anything like that anymore.

The doctor didn't want me to tell Rich I was pregnant; he thought Rich would be depressed. When Rich's sister came in February, she had happy news to share--she was going to have another baby. I'd been keeping this secret of mine for a month and all of a sudden I blurted it out that I was, too. Rich began to cry because he was so happy.

Here's the kicker: just before I was due to give birth to Heidi in September of 1988, we had to go see Dr. Baughmann for another visit. He did a physical exam and his eyes popped. He didn't say anything. He had Rich go for an echocardiogram (standard) and then he'd speak to us. When he did, he was obviously shaken. He said it was like looking at a different heart. "I can't explain it to you," he said. "It's like a miracle."

Rich's heart had gotten smaller -- not to its normal size as hoped for but still better than it was before.

 

We didn’t really need any explanation for what happened.  Rich’s angel was the baby due very soon.  Rich called her his “miracle”.    Mary sent our angels with her prayers.  With them came comfort and help and a great deal of love.