This post comes from a weekly memoir writing prompt provided by The Red Dress Club. 
This week’s prompt asked us to write about a time that rhythm, or a lack thereof, played a role in our life. And we weren’t supposed to use the word “rhythm.”
Wouldn’t it be nice if when a heart attack was over, it was really over? But it’s not a simple thing like a broken arm or an appendectomy. I mean, no one keeps staring at the ex-patient wondering if one day that arm will spontaneously snap, and an appendix, once removed, cannot come back and haunt its previous owner like Marley’s ghost, though my dad swore his tonsils grew back.
My husband had a heart attack when he was fifty. The beat of our lives had been steady. Even. Get up and go to work. Come home, eat dinner, watch a little TV or read, then go to bed. Repeat five times and do yard work and errands on weekends. Then the flow was interrupted by something so unexpected. My husband was in great shape. We watched what we ate and he exercised faithfully. Sure, we had stress, but doesn’t everybody? A heart attack at fifty was not programmed into the pulse of our lives.
When he came home from the hospital, my husband needed to take things slow. I took short walks with him at first, then longer ones as his strength came back. Even after the doctor cleared him to return to work, we couldn’t just move back into the cadence we had before. I took more time planning meals to make sure they were heart-healthy. My husband had to adjust to the new routine of swallowing a slew of pills morning and night.
I was afraid all the time when he was out of my sight. What if it happened again and I wasn’t there? At night I would watch him sleep, watch his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, or press myself tightly against his back as he slept on his side so I could feel the beating of his heart. Months later I still found it hard to sleep through the night. If I drifted off and awoke in the dark and couldn’t hear him breathing, I’d put my hand on his chest or give him a little shake. Just checking. I’d praise God every morning we woke up together.
That was many years ago. Gradually, the pattern of our lives flowed back into metered measures, though we never forgot the ragtime of those heart attack days. The fear abated, I could let my sweet husband out of my sight without the perpetual knot in my stomach, and I learned to sleep again. We still sleep like spoons, but it is my husband now who presses tight into my back like he used to do, his arms enfolding me reassuringly. One thing has remained, however, from those frightful days. I praise God every morning we wake up together.
Wonderful writing about a difficult time. Well-done!
Thanks so much. I’ve shoved those memories away, but that prompt reminded me of them.
Oh, yes, I very much relate. Several years ago, Muri ad a pulmonary embolism and I almost talked her out of going to the hospital. It took me a long time to stop checking on her every time I woke in the night if I couldn’t hear her breath. And, oh yes, once the fear passes, there’s gratitude for every day we’re together. Lovely, heartfelt post.
You were so lucky, Bud, and I know you know it. A lot of people can identify with this kind of fear. Loving someone that much is scary.
All it takes is one near-catastrophic moment to interrupt a seemingly comfortable rhythm. Now replaced by a new one. Thank you for sharing. And may you only know joys.
Thanks for that sweet thought, Sarah.
What a beautiful love story. I am glad you found your rhythm again.
Thank you, Cheryl. And it keeps getting better, even after nearly forty years.
It’s a journey of our adult life. You told the story so eloquently.
Well put. Yes, it is a journey we all must take eventually, in one form or another. Thanks for stopping by.
Wonderful post, and I understand completely. My husband had his heart attack at age 55. The biggest lesson I learned was that I had to stop trying to ‘mother’ him after he recuperated. He doesn’t always eat what he should, he doesn’t always get enough exercise, etc. But he is an adult, and he has the right to choose how he wants to live his life, just as I am the only one who is responsible for how I live mine.
Oh, Margie Girl, you really do understand. You can’t make them do what you know is best for them. Nagging only destroys the relationship.
Beautiful! Your posts are always so heartfelt.
Thank you, LDC. Sometimes I worry I’m too sappy, but I just write what’s in my heart.
You wrote such a beautiful post about such a trying time!
I love how open you were about this and how perfectly it wove into rhythm- love, life, heartbeats.
This -We still sleep like spoons, but it is my husband now who presses tight into my back like he used to do, his arms enfolding me reassuringly- made me teary for what is obviously love.
Thank you, Galit. I am a lucky woman.
Such a poignant story – glad you got your rhythm back.
Me, too, H.G.!
I love this.
Thanks, Ems.
Very well written. The feeling really comes through your words. I loved how you checked for his breathing in the middle of the night. Love is such powerful stuff!
Thank you, D of ND. It’s easy to write about my wonderful hubby!
What a wonderfully written piece about a time that must have been so hard. Glad he is okay and the rhythm of your lives has evened out. Writing I really loved: “A heart attack at fifty was not programmed into the pulse of our lives.” and “Gradually, the pattern of our lives flowed back into metered measures, though we never forgot the ragtime of those heart attack days.”
Stopping in from TRDC. :>
Thanks, Karen, especially for pointing out what you liked. I’m looking forward to reading your post as well.
This made me so teary, too. Love the, ‘repeats’ about your daily life. I’ve lived in fear about my Dad’s health, and now those in my family as well. Sometimes I feel like I try and ‘draw a curtain’ between those fears and myself. Usually, I don’t have much doing that with my other anxieties and fears. Touching post, CE.
Thanks for your comment. It’s hard not to be fearful, but it robs you of enjoying each day, so sometimes we just have to put our foot down and say, “Enough!”
That is a WOW! Beautifully written. I really do enjoy your posts!
Thanks so much! Your enthusiasm made my day!
What a touching post and such an amazing relationship you two have, you both are really blessed! I can only imagine the fear you must have felt then, thank goodness he is doing great now.
Thanks for reading. I don’t know how we got so lucky, but we don’t take it for granted, that’s for sure!
I teared up while reading this. You did an excellent job at illustrating your concern over your husband. I’m so glad to hear that he is well and that you are no longer imprisoned by those fears.
Thank you so much for your sweet comment. You are a new voice to me. I’m looking forward to reading your blog.
Can I just say…. Beautiful? I love the way your describe your relationship with your hubby. I am so glad he is healthy now. I love it that you know Who to thank for it. Awesome Susan.
Thanks, Julie. At times like that awful experience, you come to really understand that there is only One who will never leave you.
I can only imagine how scary this must be — so glad he’s okay! (oh, and really wonderful job with the prompt — I loved it!)
Thanks, Julia. He’s in great shape. Of course, he had a triple by-pass a few years after the heart attack! But we consider that fixed the problem, so I’m actually not so worried anymore.
What a beautiful bittersweet memoir you’ve written. You have a pleasant writing voice.
Thank God your husband is okay. I can’t imagine the pain your husband went through nor the fear you experienced and are probably still having from time to time. I applaud you both for overcoming and getting back into the rhythm of life. 🙂
Thank you, E.C. for your sweet comment. Of course, with aging, the fear creeps in again, even if it’s not about the exact same thing, and we have to push it out of our minds or we waste the wonderful years we still have left to be with each other.
Oh Susan how awful for you. I remember when my husband was so very ill when we lived out of the city. For months after he came home, I wouldn’t let him out of my site and checked that he was breathing time and again.
Thank you for sharing so eloquently. Judith
Yes, dear Judith, you certainly understand that feeling all too well.
Time is a wonderful healer, isn’t it? I’m excited about overcoming fear, as it has crippled most of my adult life.
Yes, fear zaps the enjoyment of life, doesn’t it! I have to work every day to overcome it in some form or another.