21st
The Butterfly With Steel Toed Boots
Last week I experienced something new in the life of one relatively initiated in medical happenings: atrial fibrillation followed by electrical cardioversion. If you are interested in the technical rundown on this acute diagnosis, be my guest and ‘Google’ it, but I want to tell you that for me, it felt as though the gentle butterfly who normally flits around my heart, had decided to don tiny steel toed boots and tap dance all over my chest cavity.
As with most raucous marathon dance parties, I became lightheaded as time marched on, and was thankful for a quiet room in the ER to lay down, except that I must inject this criticism: Why can’t somebody invent a gurney that doesn’t send your back into uncontrollable spasms after only a half hour?
Several people have asked me if I was frightened during my cardiac event, after all, trips to the emergency room are inherently intimidating and any diagnosis related to the heart unnerves the imagination. Add to that the fact that my father died at 67 of a sudden heart attack. My immediate response was that I knew what it felt like to die, and this wasn’t it. My second reaction was that my doctors had explained what was going to happen to me so thoroughly, and were taking care of me so well, that I felt at ease. Honestly, I didn’t once think of the familial connection to my dad’s attack until Dr. Winters said he had tested me and that I hadn’t had one.
After some reflection, I realize that even though all those things are true: I really do know what it feels like to die and my doctors were definitely exceptional, (my kindly Internist, Dr. Chooljian, came with me to the ER and walked my case through triage until I was settled, and my ER doctor was a gem from Presque Isle, Maine, and the head of the department), they are not the only reason I was never scared.
You see, every day I become more and more cognizant of a different heart that resides in me; one that beats with the love of God because I have surrendered it to Him. As this heart grows, it not only wraps its arms around me for my good, but it motivates me to spring into action for the benefit of others. The concern for people I love overtakes self-interest, even in the face of crisis.
While my butterfly’s party escalated into a circus, I was thinking of a memorial service that I was missing, for an old friend, Gary, who was finally freed to be embraced by Heaven, after years and years of unrelenting attacks of illness. This gentle soul had been so kind to my husband, Jeff, and me when we were first married. I was wondering how his wife, Linda, was faring through it all and wishing I could give her a hug and tell her that I loved her. I thought that my forced seclusion had stolen that blessing from me.
As I glanced at the squiggly lines jumping on my monitor, I thought about an appointment I would miss, with a doctor who helps me take better care of my daughter, Sarah, who is slowly climbing out of the rubble left by a norepinphrine storm, (which can be a circus all by itself), but which crashes into debilitating depression. Sarah is an empty shell of her former self who yearns to be the butterfly, to dance out of her cocoon, although to truly be comfortable, she’ll probably wear bright orange Converse tennis shoes. As a mother, I think about each of my three children, but at this particular time, Sarah’s need has been so compelling, that my inner heart aches for her to be healed, happy and free, therefore I don’t necessarily have the time to be laying on a gurney in the hospital.
When the ER staff finally began to set up the equipment and the nurse asked me what my instructions were in case something ‘unthinkable’ happened, I was not terrified, because I knew that they were just about to shock my heart into the proper rhythm, so I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing I would be able to go home soon. I’m not sure if my experience is unique, but even under sedation, there was no escape from the electrical shock, when it actually occurred. Not that it hurt, exactly, but its jolt was unavoidable nonetheless, and it managed to eject the circus and the party from my body, and the tap dancing butterfly gave up her steel toed boots to resume her peaceful fluttering.
‘Oh, that I would continue to be controlled by the love of God motivated and impelled by Him to the end that my priority is the blessing of other people and when I am off course, may He jolt me back into His rhythm so I can make it home. Amen’
“For the love which Christ has for me presses on me from all sides, holding me to one end and prohibiting me from considering any other, wrapping itself around me in tenderness, giving me an impelling motive, having brought me to this conclusion, namely, that One died on behalf of all, therefore all died, and that He also died on behalf of all in order that those who are living no longer are living for themselves but for the One who died on their behalf and instead of them, and was raised.” II Corinthians 5:14,15 Wuest Translation
