When life hits you hard, write.

In my first novel, “I Knew Men,” our main character, Anna, goes through a series of traumatic events. Now that my book is published and it’s being read, I’m receiving feedback that suggests readers are enthralled, surprised, and moved by what transpires.

My imagination came up with much that was written, fed by a degree of personal experience, research, conversations, and observations. However, a week ago I went through a traumatic experience that was like nothing I could have imagined. I’ve reflected on it a lot; my mind doesn’t know how to let it go. Because of it, I find I’m relating more closely with my novel, and especially its sequel.

On October 28, after being out of town, I arrived home to find my husband in bed. I asked him if he was okay, and he said he wasn’t sure. He had taken aspirin and was resting. Changing out of my dress clothes, I described my afternoon, making chit chat. I asked if he needed anything. He said he could use a drink of water.

CALL AN AMBULANCE?

When I brought the water to him, he didn’t look right. I told him I felt worried, like I should take him to the hospital or call an ambulance or something. Normally, he would have responded, “I’ll be fine – I just need to rest.” He is one that never wants medical assistance of any kind, adamantly so. When he said, “call an ambulance,” I got scared. Really scared.

I ran downstairs to find my phone and called 9-1-1. By the time I got back to him, he was covered in sweat. His face was contorted in pain. Before I got off the phone, I could hear sirens. Help was on the way. My husband heard the sirens and whispered, “hurry up, hurry up.”

The rest of this is a blur. Four large firemen and two EMT’s filled our bedroom. After hooking him up to monitors, they confirmed he was having a heart attack. They called the hospital with the results of the EKG. Being that it was Saturday, the cardio team needed to be called in.

IN GOOD HANDS

At the hospital, I watched while the emergency room staff prepared for the cardio team’s arrival. They gave my husband pain med injections, wired him up, and tried to keep him calm. The way they worked together was impressive. Whenever I wasn’t in the way, I held my husband’s hand and stood beside his gurney.

Our oldest daughter and our 11 year old grandson arrived, and then two women entered, dressed like they were ready for surgery. They told the three of us to follow them. “We’re going to be booking it, so stay close. We’ll escort you to where you will wait, but we’ll keep going. Stay close,” they repeated.

I can’t remember ever walking so quickly. The next thing I knew, we were clear across the hospital and upstairs. They pointed to an area for us to wait, and they rolled the gurney with its precious cargo through a set of double doors. Suddenly it was very quiet. I have never felt so alone.

THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD

While the three of us waited and prayed, we stayed in touch with our other adult children on the phone. My daughter became my strength; she knew what I needed to relay to her brothers and sister. She kept a clear head and retained all the details while my brain played hopscotch.

An hour later, the doctor entered. He held a piece of paper with a sketch of a heart that he had drawn upon, to show the location of the blockage and where stents were inserted. “He’s going to recover,” he said. “You got him here just in time.” I asked the doctor if I could hug him. He let me give him a big hug.

THERE’S NO SCHOOL LIKE OLD SCHOOL

The following day, when the doctor came to check on my husband, he told him about the obstacles that he overcame. “Normally, we put the catheter into the arm – it’s the straightest path to the heart. However, your artery was twisted, so we had to go with your groin. I had to go in on the left side, and neither the ultrasound or the cap could be used. I went “old school” and moved fast to find the femoral artery. We found the blockage before your heart gave out on us. It was a close call.”

Hearing him describe the procedure in such detail caused me to break down. I left and roamed the halls, bawling my eyes out. Relief, gratitude, fear, panic – so many emotions came pouring out of me. What if I had stopped for groceries on the way home? What if this happened earlier in the day when he was alone? What if we didn’t live so close to the downtown emergency services and the hospital? What if, what if, what if …. the thoughts were overwhelming.

In the sequel to “I Knew Men,” titled, “I Knew Men More,” I write about something like this happening. I don’t want to give any spoilers, but I’ve definitely received enough inspiration to further develop parts of the scenario.

Thinking on other things that happen in the sequel, I’ll pass on gaining more firsthand knowledge, please.

It’s much easier to deal with what my imagination conjures up.