Last month, my Dad had a heart attack and nearly died. My mom saved his life with chest compressions, and then EMTs stabilized him enough to get to the hospital. After awful treatment, we got him to a better place and he had the first procedure—an ICD implantation. He then took a few weeks to heal before open heart surgery, which went really well. It’s been an intense five weeks, and Dad has months of rehabilitation ahead of him after his open heart surgery, and a couple more procedures in the months ahead, but he can do it. Dad is the guy that taught me that it doesn’t whether or not you fall, but how you recover, that defines you. I learned new levels of resiliency watching him learn to walk again in 2016, and he’s inspiring us all over again now.
Also… can I just say how much I love everyone in my family? The heroism and stalwartness of Mom, the love and strength of Vasant, the decisiveness and steadiness of Emily, the ingenuity and creativity of Mary, Claire’s gentleness and care, the servants’ hearts and support of Todd and Elaine and their kids, and Claire’s partner Aaron, who we all love so much. I’m honored to know these people, to live life with them, to go through hardship with them, and call them family. They have been so active in the last five weeks, everyone supporting each other and making sure Dad felt loved.
I got him discharged today and I’m off to Portland for the Tin House Summer Workshop (and the first in-person film screening of our documentary since the ‘before times’) tomorrow.
It’s so weird to switch gears after five weeks of being in go-mode for Dad. I sent a story to my workshop group that hasn’t been through more than two drafts. But I am too exhausted too be nervous. I am almost cancelled to stay and help Dad but he said he’d kick my ass if I missed this opportunity, so I’m going. I’m hoping, if anything, this week will be a transition out of crisis mode back into a focused writing headspace.
Wish me luck!