No Cause for Alarm

My mother always qualifies bad news with a statement like, "Now, I want you to know that there is no cause for alarm, but . . . "

It is her heart's desire that, whenever possible, she not cause undue stress. Usually she'll go on to tell me that a family member is in the hospital, but regardless of whether they are awaiting an organ transplant or having their appendix removed, there is no cause for alarm. I'll bet even if she had firsthand knowledge of our imminent nuclear demise, my mom would say, "Rima, I don't want you to worry, but . . . you are going to die in fifteen seconds."

I got a call from my mom on Friday afternoon. There was no cause for alarm, but my dad was in the hospital. There was no cause for alarm, but he had gone to the doctor's after experiencing chest pain and the doctor had sent him straight to the cardio ICU. Also, he went by ambulance. They're about to do a heart catheterization - she'll call me back as soon as she knows something, there's no cause for alarm.

It turns out my dad had a heart attack, but he was very lucky - the blockage wasn't in any major arteries and he didn't need bypass surgery. In fact, my dad was insisting that he could have driven to the hospital himself. When I went to see him later that night, he was having dinner and looking very nearly like his usual spry self. By Sunday afternoon, he was pacing the halls with his IV pole in tow and wearing street clothes under his hospital gown to indicate discharge preparedness.

He's home now, feeling fine, and looking into heart healthy menu options he can live with. There was no cause for alarm. Except, of course, during those long hours on Friday afternoon when I started imagining a world without my father in it.