Disturbed by a Burp
Aack! What’s this? I’m just minding my business when I am disturbed by a burp. It’s bothersome enough that I push out of my chair to allow the irksome bubble to work its way out. Nothing like a healthy window-rattling belch to make one feel good again. However, the unreasonable thing refuses to wriggle its way up. I suddenly feel ill--like death warmed over.
“Are you okay?” asks dear Hubby observing my pasty gray color. “You look terrible!” he says, which is rather shocking, coming from him.
“Shall I call an ambulance?” is the next query. Ambulance? No time for that; I need the bathroom!
The first thing I was thankful for after the fact was that I was at home. Can you imagine intense gastric upset in the middle of Target with strangers all around? Oh horrors! Or experiencing undignified purging on a bus heading to Michigan with good friends crowded around?? (Which was supposed to happen two days later.) How terribly humiliating! I can’t bear to think of it.
Things quickly escalate from a simple burp to sweating like an Arizona August, feeling marshmallow-y weak, and an intense need for the toilet. I am busy for several minutes. There is no time to think about calling an ambulance. Even so, for an upset tummy? A little Ginger Ale would be more logical, don’t you think? There is that concerning little bit of pain in my left jaw and a niggle down my left arm. But there’s no time to stop and do the math.
However, when I finish in the bathroom and walk towards a chair in our bedroom, I almost collapse on the carpet. Oh, oh! Something is seriously wrong. A sudden extreme weakness plus urgent tummy troubles plus that nagging twinge going up my jaw and down my left arm plus the burp-like pressure in my chest…well, that seems to add up to trouble.
“Shall I take you to the hospital?” asks Hubby. “Yes!” I say.
I’m beginning to wonder, could it be a heart attack? Could I be in danger of dying? I glance back over my shoulder at home-sweet-home as I make my way to the car. Will I see it again?
Turns out one plus one does equal heart attack. And a lot more questions. Will I have another one? Will that one end my life? Will this be my last day on earth? I could DIE!
Do I have a health care directive? Do I want to be resuscitated if needed? Would I like to say good-bye to Hubby now before I go to surgery? I am calm and unafraid, almost like an out-of-body experience, but my brain is wide-eyed and incredulous. It feels surreal to be facing those kinds of questions. How did I get from minding my business to contemplating death?
We know life can end suddenly. We have witnessed it many times. But when reality knocks on your door and grabs you by the heart, it demands your attention. WHOA! My family’s life routines might be paused to plan my funeral. What a weird and sobering thought.
It’s wonderful to feel good again, but nevertheless, life is uncertain. For me, and for you, too.
I will take heed of the red-light warning and do some adjustments. Maybe less Lucky Charms breakfasts and more spinach? I have beautiful sunsets to see and grandkids to hug. I don’t want to give the ugly ill-health monster any opportunity to rob that from me!
The heart attack may have done damage, but there’s always a blessing. It seems to have polished my lens and my world is sharper, clearer. The first snowfall is exquisite. I enjoy delicate snowflakes meandering through tree branches and dancing on chilly breaths from a gray goose sky. I slowly sip a fragrant Caribou brew and warm my hands cradling the comfortable mug. I delight in the normal sounds of home--the friendly swoosh-swoosh of clothes agitating in the washer, the cat’s strident ‘meeowr,’ familiar traffic sounds outside the open window. Oh listen! There is a bird chirping in the snowy tree.
Each day brings gifts to open. I untie the bow and tear off the paper of surprises that make me laugh until my belly aches or bring salty tears. Life is rich that way. I’m learning to embrace them all.
God has numbered my days, and I won’t die before those days are fulfilled. I could die tomorrow. But I could live another day. What will I do with this splendid gift? I plan to grasp it with both hands and savor it like an exquisite crème brulee. Every single spoonful until the bowl is empty. Then, I will take it to the sink to be washed and lick the sweetness lingering on my lips.
