July 22nd, 2009
Last Sunday I was carbo loading — not because I’m training for anything strenuous and life changing — ha, like that’ll happen anytime soon! — I just happen to love bread, pasta and butter, preferrably with all three smothered over the others — when someone mentioned Endicott’s surgery. I turned away from my plates of whole wheat goodness to ask, “Endicott had surgery? Really?” The rest of the discussion is fuzzy due to my immediate freak out.
Ruth replied, “Yeah, kind of a serious one, too.”
“Oh, really? I had no idea.”
“Yeah, he had open heart surgery,” said Ruth’s hubby, “that’s kind of a serious surgery.”
Yes, I’d say so. Actually, I said nothing as I fought the urge to run out of the restaurant…Open heart surgery?! WTF??!!! Who has open heart surgery and chooses not to mention it?? (My ex-husband, of course). We weren’t close, but imminent death tends to patch that crap up real quick, doesn’t it??
“He had open heart surgery? Oh. I didn’t know, he didn’t say a word….Is he okay?”
“Oh yeah,” said Ruth, extra gently, in that voice I always reserve for little kids and sweet, fluffy bunnies.
We stared at each other for a few moments while I waited out the lump in my throat. “I’m…I’m…I’m sorry. I’m just stunned, that’s all. I…”
“He didn’t tell anyone about it. We phoned him a few times but he didn’t return our calls. My husband (he has a name but I chose not to use it & I’m waaaaay too lazy to invent something clever, except maybe the name, Clever — ha!) emailed him many times and he didn’t respond to those either until a few weeks ago.”
“So he lived?” I laughed out of relief.
“Oh yeah. I offered to take him out for shooters and sliders when he feels better. Bwaaahaaaahaaaa-haaaaaahaaaaa!”
“Yeah, that’s an EXCELLENT idea! Be sure to do that.” I turned to Ruth, “I’m glad you’re in touch with him. He needs people in his life who care about him. He obviously doesn’t want me to know about this, so I don’t think I should phone him. Maybe I’ll call his Dad to check in with him about Endicott.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea.”
My 5:00am call to my former father-in-law was mostly what I expected, awkward and slow. Both features were my doing as I had not been to sleep and struggled with some guilt over my role in the end of our marriage. By my role, I mean my half of the arguments, bitterness and the one glass that I threw across the room, many years ago. I haven’t always been a nice gal — neither of of were easy on each other for different reasons (like our personalities!).
His dad must have mentioned the call as I got this email later that day:
On Mon, Jul 20, 2009 at 3:19 PM, Endicott wrote:
Sorry about the no-contact but I could not get upstairs to my good computer and sent messages from AOL via Dad’s MSN on his laptop and could not access my aol adress book. All I could remember was the (AOL) address.
I got a severe pneumonia in mid-March and was first put in isolation for over a week because they could not figure out what I had at first, then I was in the hospital an addditional 4 weeks. After that I was home but went in for a sleep study for apnea, then back in the hospital several times for long stays because of a weakening heart, always hoping to get better, but some other problem would kick in after I got home. I got endema and that was about another three weeks and back home trying to get rid of the pneumonia and get weaned off the medicines. By this time my cardiologist was convinced I needed to do something with my valve (the probable cause for the pneumonia in the first place) and it got a bit dicey towards the end to get into hospital before the valve blew but after being clear of the very rough drugs ffor the pneumonia. I had the surgery and as you can see by the forward how it all turned out.
I’m pretty weak, and I basicaly only try to accomplish one thing per day-doctors appointments, disability forms, etc etc.
I’ll be laying low for awhile. About 4 more weeks for the ribs to mend. I’m making some arrangements to start some physical therapy. Feel fre to email me, when I’m stronger perhaps you can visit or something.