Are You Going To Die? (Published to Plymouth Patch March 2, 2011)

The truth is always better than what can be imagined in its place

My then 13-year-old son, Dylan, asked me that question. It was March 15, 2009 and we were gathered in my room at Jordan Hospital. Me sitting up in bed – connected to various tubes and wires, the kids sat at the end of the bed, expectantly. Pat paced behind them. By this point, I had been in the hospital four days and we had been limiting the information that we gave the kids until we knew more.

I was really sick, I told them. What we thought was pneumonia wasn’t. I have an illness that affects my heart. It’s something many people have. Grammy (my mom) has it. It is something the doctors understand, and medications and treatments exist to help manage it.

I had congestive heart failure stemming from a viral infection in my heart. I know! Who knew that could happen! 

Nothing really prepares you for caring for a child when you are sick. When your future is uncertain. I had thought about what would happen to my family if I weren’t around. Or how I would parent if something happened to Pat. But never about what would happen if I were disabled or debilitated. The prospect of parenting through a major health crisis or problem had never crossed my mind. I learned. The hard way, the way I am destined to learn everything.

“I have no intention of dying." I told them. "I need to have some more tests done and learn as much as I can. It’s going to be hard but we’ll face this together. No matter what happens we’ll deal with it.”

They were still young, but at 13 and 10, old enough to catch on that something significant was going on.

When I got home – no matter how scared, tired, or upset – I got out of bed. Every day I was there when they left for school and again most afternoons. They needed me. Maybe more than ever. With so much uncertainty surrounding my health, I was determined that this would not define us. If this was to be our life, then it was going to bend to my rules.

We planned menus and took walks. We learned new ways of cooking. We learned how to shop. We read labels and calculated percentages. The kids pitched in around the house. Carrying laundry. Learning how to vacuum. Stacking the dishwasher. We created an air of normalcy as we met this challenge together – as a family.

There was no future, no planning. There was just the now. Managing day to day. I would tell myself, after the next appointment we’ll have answers. A plan. Something. Anything.

I’m sure you’ve surmised that I’m not dead. Two years later. I’m better. A medical miracle by one doctor’s assessment.

Being sick taught me so much. I learned I’m stronger than I ever imagined; that Pat is the most amazing man in the universe; that my kids – my incredible kids – can rise to any challenge. What could have devastated us made us stronger. We survived. We persevered. We thrived. We did it with honesty, stubbornness and a whole lot of laughter.

Trust your children with the truth. They get it. Let them impress you. Mine did.