I hate fear.

It's paralizing. Indecision normally follows, and then flight. As I look for a way out, I slip right into denial. I'm always shocked when fear lands. Not that it hasn't landed plenty of times before, but each time, it brings unique depths of misery and even though the feelings have familiar characteristics, they seem new and debilitating, as if you've never been here before. The stomach knots up, the head becomes foggy, the heart rams against it's cage.

"Do Something!" the mind screams.

I hate fear.

The day was deceptive. Like all others lately, it began with too much work, too little time, and us caring for my ailing cat. At the end of the day, I knew her time was near. She had wet all over herself, again, and I gathered warm cloths and cleaned her up. I cooed at her and told her all about cat heaven, and if it was her time, it was ok to go. I have "radar," a special connection with cats. I've had it all my life. We communicate, sometimes in ways that resemble telepathy. Well, now, don't disblieve, I didn't ask for it, it's just there.

Sigh. I don't know why I'm so blessed with so many talents, none of which make me a dime. But, on a boring day, it does provide entertainment.

So, Sassy cooed back, patted my cheek with her paw, and looked deep into my eyes with her baby blues. "Ok, Mom, if you don't mind, I think I'll go soon."

She was just hanging on because of me. I knew it. I put her to bed, as best I could, and left her to her space, she was alone. Sadly I went upstairs.

That was grief, but it was not the fear that would soon arrive.

I felt it later that evening, December 9th, at 10:45pm. It doesn't matter who you are or what you're doing when fear comes crashing in. I was watching the news. My husband burst out of the bedroom bent over, stumbling. "My chest, my chest!" he muttered.

I jumped up and took a deep breath of stupid, as I asked, "What's wrong? What's wrong? Lynn! Lynn!"

He couldn't talk but finally murmured that he needed Rolaids. "Oh, no! Heart attack symptom number two, first being the crushing pain." My mind was talking to me, but my ears were turned off.

I grabbed the Rolaids and the aspirin, but by then he had stumbled to the bathroom groaning that he was going to throw up. "Oh, NO! Heart attack symptom number three, nausea." Ok, I'm beginning to get it.

Lynn collapsed in the bathroom, not unconscious, but unresponsive, and jerked a little, seemingly out of control. Stupid was still sitting in my mouth as I asked "Lynn, can you get up? Lynn should I call the doctor?" Duh. Well, denial is a powerful emotion and it takes a few seconds to overcome it. Besides, we make big decisions together and this was a big decision. I knew he'd be upset if I called the Doctor for "nothing."

Smart shoved stupid aside and I asked "Can you swallow?" He nodded. "Yeah, I think so." Ah, words, good. I shoved an aspirin in his mouth and dabbed at the blood on his back to check a small prick in his skin. He had broken the toilet paper holder in his fall and it nicked him. Nothing of concern, and I ran to the phone. Lynn sat up, but his eyes didn't appear to focus. I said "I'm calling 911, Ok? Ok?"

I heard a soft "Yeah."

"This is 911, what is your emergency?"

Swallowing panic and an insane urge to say "Oh, nothing, just thought I'd call to say hi...." I gave the caller my attention. I heard myself give my name and say very calmly "I believe my husband is having a heart attack. He has severe pain in his chest, he is conscious and breathing, but the pain won't go away."

I gave his name, age, and confirmed my address and phone number. The paramedics were on their way, there was no going back.

In about 3 minutes, the operator said the ambulance was downstairs and so I hung up, pulled Lynn's shorts on him. It's strange what you focus on when you're knee deep in fear, but I knew he would not want to go in just his underwear. Having momentarily gained a bit of miraculous strength, he had stumbled to his feet, and we made the move towards the stairs. "Please don't let us fall..." I steadied him from behind, soon we were standing outside.

The paramedics confirmed his name, his pain, his vitals, put him in the ambulance and shouted the name of the hospital to me as they drove off.

I was alone. In the dark of night, I was standing alone on the parking lot of our storage site, frozen with inaction, with thoughts that led to nowhere.

"I don't know how to be alone." and "Is this IT?" "Who do I call first?"

My mind answered "Move, lady! Call the son that's probably awake!" That would be my oldest, he runs a sports grill.

Fear cut off my air and turned into thick bile in my throat. My knees had no strength, and I mentally shouted "Stop it! Think! Move! Determined not to fall, I shoved the fear aside and raced back up the stairs, grabbing all three cell phones, one business and 2 personal, Lynn's wallet with his insurance card and his blood pressure meds. I shoved my feet into shoes, hoping they were mine, picked up my jacket and purse, and with hands too full, I checked on the dog, and forced my feet to walk downstairs with care.

I grabbed the keys by the door, told our barking in fear, sweet Buddy-the-dog-child I'd be back soon, and hurriedly locked the door behind me.

I paused only long enough to take a few deep breaths, fasten my seat belt, and back out of the drive. It was so "out of body." At the stop sign on the corner, I dialed my oldest son's cell. How do you say this diplomatically? You don't. "Joe Lynn, it looks like your dad might be having a heart attack, he's conscious, and was talking some when the ambulance took him just now. He was having severe chest pains about 10 minutes ago." I told him the hospital and asked if he knew where it was.

While I was talking, Joe Lynn was quiet and by the diminishing background sound, I could tell he had moved into his office. He gave me basic directions to the hospital as he was somewhat familiar with that part of Tampa. Saying he'd call me back in a second, he hung up. Seconds ticked by in hours. I drove carefully but fast.

I had laid the cell phone on my chest and when it rang I jumped and jerked the steering wheel. Joe Lynn had the number of the hospital who was expecting my call for directions. The operator was calm and talked me through a dark construction area of the road, but fear was squishing every breath as I drove the dark streets, fighting night blindness.

Fear was not through with me yet. My thoughts raced to Lynn and I sent him signals via heaven that I was on my way. Almost angrily I thought "You'd better not be having any other attack, just hang on!"

Curving dark streets showed the gang-like stance of guys walking far too close to slow moving cars...one of which contained me.

"Oh, great. I'll probably get car-jacked." I dialed my son's number again.

I told him the street was decorated with really cute characters that had nothing to do with Christmas and I was afraid.

"Don't look their way, Mom, but be aware of them."

"Oh, I'm aware of them, alright."

"Just keep driving, Mom, you're nearly there."

He talked to me until I saw the hospital ahead. I pulled into a darkened parking lot, and scooted into a parking spot by the door that someone had just vacated. I grabbed my bag with all the phones and insurance and meds and ran into the ER.

I needn't have run. The room was full of sour looking, gang-like young men; women who were pregnant, other young girls who were waiting with their "gang partners," and many other men and women with strange hair, angry-mean facial expressions, none of whom I wanted to meet in the dark, or on a night when my husband was having a heart attack. Approaching the clerk's desk, I was aware of stares. I realized that there was a whole other world that moved in the night.

The clerk took my name, and evidently she did have a system of sorts because she made a phone call and then said "Wait over there, they're working on him."

WORKING ON HIM??? "You need to tell me what that means." I said firmly, not budging.

"It means you'll have to wait over there." she didn't budge either.

You'll be very proud to know that I didn't even think of a cuss word. I waited over there.

While "waiting over there" I noticed a brown wallet under the chairs across from me, where no one was sitting. Wisdom told me not to call attention to the fact, and stupid seemed to be sitting on the clerk's shoulders for the moment, so I remained quiet about the wallet.

Forty-five minutes later, anger pushed fear out the door and I went looking for "missing clerk." I found her in a glassed in office with a locked door. Well, I didn't blame her but I wasn't waiting any longer without some information.

Smart stopped my tongue and softened my words changing "Take me to my husband NOW!" to "Could you please check on my husband and ask them if I could come on back, now?" Smart smiled.

Stupid clerk smiled and said "Well, sure, honey, let me check again."

Drip, drip, aren't we all so sweet.

I leaned in, since we were currently best friends, and said "Don't look now, but there's a brown wallet under the line of chairs over there."

She looked now. "Oh! A man's been asking for that!" She got up and walked away.

Still no cussing, it just wasn't the time for it, what with us needing a miracle, I just waited. Soon, she was back with a man who smiled at me and said "Thanks, m'am for finding my wallet."

"I didn't touch it, sir, I just saw it there and you're welcome."

The clerk made my call, told me to curve left, then right, then left again and ask a nurse where my husband was. I was outta there.

I found Lynn within a few minutes, talking to a pretty blonde girl, who turned out to be one of many of the ER doctors. His luck.

I hugged him and said "You're supposed to be having a heart attack, not flirting." The not-nurse, doctor-girl laughed but sobered up saying "Has anyone given you information, yet?"

"No."

"Well, he had an EKG that the cardiologist was concerned about, meaning that he's going to do a heart cath tonight, and if there is a blockage, they'll put in a stint if possible, and he'll be doing that in about an hour." She left the room and Lynn and I had a few moments to talk.

He said he wasn't scared and they had given him a nitro-glycerin spray in his mouth, which had made his chest pain go away. They had also given him another aspirin and were praising us for doing it so quickly at home. Beyond that, they weren't talking.

Soon, Lynn was whisked away on his rolling bed, with me following behind. Down halls, up elevators, around bends and suddenly the nurse said "Wait here, the doctor will see you after the procedure." I was allowed a quick kiss with Lynn and the door shut.

The empty waiting room was cool, dimly lit, complete with a coffee and tea machine and snacks. Finally, I had a moment where tears gathered and slid down my cheeks. I got a hot tea, a cold soda and a bag of chips. Two chips and two gulps of soda later i tossed them in the trash and settled down with the hot tea. just needing something comforting. I paced and decided to call the other boys. My oldest son was coming as soon as his club closed, and we talked every 15 minutes until then. The two youngest boys were shocked and wanted to drive over immediately but I talked them into waiting until we knew more. They agreed to wait until I called them after talking to the doctor.

I had confidence that Lynn was ok, I felt the connection, but I worried he was scared or in pain. What if in the middle of this procedure, he has another heart attack? "What if, what if..." I forced myself to quit that.

50 minutes later the cardiologist himself came to the door of the waiting room. As we walked the short distance to the cath lab, he said "You're husband came through this very well. We found the artery in the front section of the heart (he used the proper name, I'm paraphrasing) and it was 80% blocked. We ballooned it and put in a stint, come see."

Within seconds I was watching a video of their procedure. Can you believe that? I saw my husband's heart - solid proof he has one - beating like a bucking bronco and the artery they were inside of, blowing it out and leaving behind a stint.

No heart damage had occurred, because everyone had acted so fast, especially the doctors! He was ordering another test the next day because they thought it possible that Lynn would need a pacemaker, as his heart was beating too slow. He guided me into the room where Lynn was awake, soon to be taken to CCU for a day or two.

My oldest son arrived, and we all leaned on each other for the next few hours. It was great to lean into that 6 foot big ol boy, and his girlfriend came along, no matter the late hour, which I thought was sweet. Soon, we all left the hospital, so Lynn could rest and I could re-group. Somehow I still had to make plans for the two work sites to be covered the next day. Fear, pain, and exhaustion was once again shoved to the back. My thinking was slow and sluggish, and I felt that half of me was missing.

Retracing my earlier drive I arrived home at 4:00a.m. where I discovered my cat had died. I slid to the floor and cried. My sweet dog kept pacing, wanting me to get up, so I shut off my thoughts, walked upstairs, turned the tv on loudly, ran a hot shower, and fell into bed. At 6 am I began to call my assistants so they could come to work early and stay late. I then drove to a cafe, had breakfast and told our familiar waitress what had happened. A small group gathered around me and we found ourselves laughing a bit here and there, as stress is prone to create.

Back at the hospital, along a route I was soon to become familiar with, I took advantage of valet parking, preferring that to dark parking lots and long walks. The hospital room clock showed 8:30a.m., almost 2 days of no sleep, and my eyes were red sandpaper, a fact that Lynn soon noticed. He was hooked up to a blood pressure machine, and the IV Vixxen he was calling "Slurpy," and oxygen.

We both felt so grateful for the good news, we had not settled on any of the discomfort, it seemed to hit us both at once. I felt selfish for mentioning my headache, he felt sorry he had caused all the commotion. "Yeah," I said, "I'm working up a good mad, you're going to have to take heart attacks off the list of things to do on a boring week night."

We took some moments to reflect and be thankful, recommitting to a good diet. The last few years we had both lost weight, and left behind much of the fried foods, turning to vegetables and steamed, grilled, stewed, or baked meats. Those changes had kept this heart attack to a minimum. He would be on some meds to keep his blood platelets from sticking, and lots of fish oil was going to be swallowed for the rest of our life, but still, the changes we had made were paying dividends at this time. No pacemaker was the latest word from the medical team!! See? Light in the middle of dark is most welcome.

Lynn went into the hospital on Tuesday night, had a blockage in an artery repaired within 3 hours, and was back home Thursday afternoon, and back at work on mild duty Friday. The product of miracles of knowledge and science and dedicated people who study hard, to save other's lives. I thanked the cardiologist for his hard work and skills. I thanked the staff, who we found out had been up 24 hours when they worked on Lynn, so I also thanked God, many times.

I spent my time calling family, covering and supporting staff at work, and sleeping in 15 minute segments. Lynn never slept, his metal friends kept buzzing and burping and squeezing his arm and body at different times, so he was one tired hubby when he got home. I couldn't sleep for checking his breathing until finally I dozed and Friday dawned.

If you need to change your diet, do. If you need to tell someone you love them, do. If you need to forgive someone who hurt you, do. Fear won't care what you're doing or where you are when it comes to call.

I go to sleep and think briefly of the clerk in the ER saying to the next person who is looking for their loved one, "They're working on them, wait over there." I hope they say "You need to explain what that means to me..."

I hate fear. But, I feel we all looked it square in the eye and stood firm.

I am Marisue, and tonight, my husband is home, and I sleep....