“Well, would you please call her, offer her the job, and see if she can come in Tuesday to man the store? I’ll need you to take over my client appointments.”
I make other calls—to check on an upholstery job, to discuss the widening of a doorway with a contractor, to make a bid on two chairs at an online auction.
I’ve just settled back into the chair beside Zack when I hear the call for Margaret’s family. It takes me a moment to recognize the scrubs-clad man as Dr. McFadden, the cardiologist I’d met in the emergency room, because his graying hair is covered by a surgical cap. But then, everything happened so fast in the ER it’s doubtful I would have recognized him anyway.
Zack had pulled his BMW right behind the ambulance to let me out before he went to park. I dashed over as the paramedics unloaded Margaret, then followed as they wheeled her through the automatic glass doors. Margaret’s eyes had been closed, her face pale, and she’d been breathing through an oxygen mask.
Zack had joined me as the paramedics transferred her to a hospital gurney. “She coded again in the ambulance,” the male medic said. He looked up at Zack. “You saved her life with that CPR.”
The staff quickly determined that Margaret was suffering a major heart attack and needed immediate angioplasty and stentplacement. They also diagnosed her hip as not only broken, but splintered; she needed immediate surgery for that, as well. They’d whisked her away and directed us to the surgery waiting room, where half a dozen other people awaited word about their loved ones.
Now I follow the lanky heart specialist into the hallway for a private conversation. Zack comes, too.
“How is she?” I ask.
“Well, three arteries were involved,” Dr. McFadden says. “One was completely blocked. We put in two stents and did a balloon procedure, and we’ve restored adequate blood flow.”
Relief rushes through me. “So she’ll be okay?”
The doctor rubs his jaw and adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses. “We’ve fixed the blockage, but she suffered some heart damage. I’d estimate she’s lost between twenty and thirty percent of her heart’s function. Because she immediately received CPR, though, we hope to see minimal brain damage.”
My stomach clenches. “Brain damage?”
His head dips in a curt nod. “Anytime the blood flow to the brain is blocked or compromised, you have the potential for damage. Because of her age and the hip fracture, we can’t do a medically induced coma, which we might consider otherwise.”
My thoughts tumble like socks in a clothes dryer.
“Her hip break is another story. She’s in surgery now for that, and as you know, that requires total sedation.”
I nod. An orthopedic surgeon had briefed me in the emergency room. As I understood it, the ragged edge of her splintered bone was in danger of puncturing an artery.
“The sedation alone is a risk at her age, and I don’t like the added stress of a lengthy surgery right after the heart procedure, but we have no choice. The heart problem and the hip break complicate each other. Because of the complexity of the break, her movement will be severely limited for some time, which will put her more at a risk of heart failure.”
“But you think she’ll fully recover?” I press.
He hesitates, then speaks slowly, as if he’s choosing his words with care. “If she does well through the hip surgery and stabilizes within the next twenty-four hours, I think she’ll make it.”
Make it.That means she’ll stay alive. The fact that he’s wording it this way indicates a distinct possibility she won’t.
“As far as how full her recovery will be...” He takes off his glasses, rubs the bridge of his nose, and sighs. “I’m afraid this is a life-changing event.”
“Life changing... what do you mean?”
“We’ll have to wait and see, and of course we hope for the best possible outcome, but she’s nearly eighty. She’s in good shape for a woman her age, but it’s likely she’ll never have the same quality of life as before.” The explanation sounds well practiced. I imagine it’s one he has to repeat all too often. “She might achieve something close to it, but she’ll need assistance and rehabilitative care for quite a long while.”
“How long a while?”
“I honestly don’t know. The orthopedic surgeon can give you some better answers, but it will depend on three factors. The first one is how well she comes through the hip surgery.” He holds up a finger, then adds a finger with each point. “The second is how much, if any, brain damage she has from the heart attack; and thirdly, how well she’s able to handle physical therapy.”
My legs feel like they’re about to fold beneath me.
“She’s going to be hospitalized for a good while—a week or two. If things go well, she’ll be transferred to our rehabilitation hospital or a skilled nursing facility for another few weeks. The staff here can help you sort out decisions about her long-term care as we get closer to discharge.”
I bob my head, trying to process everything he’s said. “Thank you, Doctor,” I mumble.
Zack leans forward. “Will you continue treating her while she’s in the hospital, or will another cardiologist take over?”
“I’ll continue seeing her and monitoring her heart.”
