Once a Heart Mom, always a Heart Mom.
Even after your Cardiac Kid survives that first surgery (or surgeries), stabilizes, and seems to be doing well, the Heart Mom gene never turns off. It goes into “Standby Mode” – not completely deactivated, but just below the surface. Your senses will always be heightened, always aware of any change in your child’s condition.
The doctors at Johns Hopkins Hospital had told my parents that if I had any more problems caused by my heart, they would most likely happen in about ten years. Their prediction was almost perfect – I stated having trouble 10 years and one week after my first surgery.
I was 11 years old and in the 5th grade at school, on a cold February day. I was sitting with my back to the wall of the school (I had learned that the wall faced the sun so no matter the temperature, it would be warm!) drawing with my best friend. Neither one of us could draw a straight line – I still can’t – but we were certainly trying!
My stomach had been doing flip-flops all morning. I didn’t feel bad, other than my stomach. But something was really giving it a fit – finally it came to the point that I turned my head, leaned over and puked.
It was all blood.
My friend said that I might need to go to the office (Yeah! I think so, too!) so I did. They called the local Rescue Squad, then called my mom.
The volunteer Rescue Squad building was only 2 miles away, but the members were spread out all over my hometown. They were pretty quick; just a year or two earlier they had won an award for being the best small Rescue Squad unit in the state, but they were still all volunteer. Once you dialed the emergency number – and this was 1977, before 9-1-1 was in use – whomever was on duty had to take the information and then press the big red button on the radio. That caused all the beepers carried by Rescue Squad members to go off. They would then leave their jobs and hurry to the Rescue Squad building, get the ambulance, and speed off. It was usually ten to fifteen minutes from the time you placed the call until you first heard the ambulance siren.
My mom got the call at work, twenty-five miles away. Suddenly her Heart Mom gene flipped to ON and she barely remembers what happened next.
What happened was she ran to the car – an older AMC Ambassador – and put her foot on the floor. Pedal to the metal with the engine screaming, the best cars and drivers that NASCAR has to offer could not have beat momma that day. She drove that AMC Ambassador twenty five miles in a little more than twenty minutes, arriving just behind the ambulance. The ambulance parked in the parking spot nearest the door, but momma skidded to a stop with two wheels on the sidewalk!
Daddy hadn’t arrived yet when I left in the ambulance, but momma was going with me and there was no question about it. She jumped into the ambulance as they loaded me in, and soon we were moving. The last view I had before they shut the doors was of our car, still sitting there with two wheels on the sidewalk.
How are they going to load the buses? When you are 11 years old these questions are important.
That ambulance ride ended at our community hospital, but my journey would continue to a larger hospital and from there to the University of Alabama at Birmingham for my second heart operation. Mom and Dad were there every step of the way. I’m doing well now, and Momma’s Heart Mom instincts usually don’t come into play. I can still set them off – just let me forget to set my alarm clock and not get up at my usual time!
Once you are a Heart Mom, you’ll always be a Heart Mom. No matter how old your Cardiac Kid (or Heart Warrior) is!