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(in which by the faith of a few good friends . . .)
Kevinfeltaportionof his tension unfurl as Helen slipped her hand into his. His mind was still cloudy, body still ached, but his wife was there beside him again.
He’d married her as a young, foolish man. More selfish than anything. Now he loved her as a grateful man, one who knew he hadn’t deserved her and who was determined to love this gift God had bestowed upon him.
Unfortunately, lying there in a hospital bed with tubes running into his veins, he felt a little helpless and frustrated that there his wife was again, bearing up strong for him. He’d prefer more than anything not to put her through this. But here they were.
“The damage to your heart is surprisingly minimal.” Dr. Agate paused, looked up from his screen, and offered a wisp of a smile. “I’d expected significantly more after I spoke with Dr. Katz. How long did it take to get you from your job site to the hospital?”
Kevin had no idea. “You’d have to ask my son,” he mumbled.
“It doesn’t matter that much, I guess.” The doctor returned to studying whatever was on his portable screen—likely Kevin’s medical notes sent down from Sugar Pine Community Hospital. “Like I said, I expected more damage. As a cautionary note, I will say that once I get in there for bypass, I might see something that will change my initial assessment, but from these scans, I really think we’re looking at well under twenty percent. Like closer to ten percent.”
Helen squeezed Kevin’s hand. “What does that mean?”
“A damaged heart doesn’t recover well. If you lose twenty percent, that damaged portion is pretty much gone.”
“Oh.” Helen sat back, her expression frightened.
Kevin didn’t like this man scaring his wife. “But what is the outlook on ten percent damage?”
The doctor looked up again, glancing first at Helen and then focused on Kevin. “Well, at twenty percent loss, we have some significant lifestyle changes to address. Your heart won’t function like it used to, and you’ll get tired faster. Out of breath sooner. You’ll have to slow down, maybe change your working habits.”
“But you think the damage is more like ten percent.”
“I do.”
“Then?”
“You’ll be looking at something closer to your old normal.” The man spoke so . . . clinically. As if this was all academic.
Kevin’s life was not academic. He had a family. A wife he loved to please. Sons he was determined to keep up with. A business he’d built from the ground up with his own two hands. What didcloser to your old normalmean? Was he going to be able to swing a hammer on a daily basis? Hike the back trail with his boys when they came home? Toss a ball with his grandkids? Make love to his wife?
He turned his head to look at Helen. She’d recomposed herself—the wild panic in her expression now soft and calm.
Her thumb brushed over his wrist. “We’ll take it as it comes, love. For now, let’s get through what’s next.”
Lifting her hand to his lips, he brushed a kiss across her knuckles, then pressed her fingers to his cheeks. Then he looked back at the stiff doctor. “What is next?”
“Bypass surgery.” Keeping his sterile, distant tone, Dr. Agate lowered his screen and sat on the rolling chair opposite Helen. “The good news is that we have the ability to perform a minimally invasive bypass in this facility. That will significantly decrease your recovery time, and you’re a good candidate for the procedure. However, there are risks. You’ll be on a ventilator while in surgery. We’ll most likely take a healthy blood vessel from inside your chest wall and use it to redirect the blood flow around your damaged artery.”
“That sounds . . . complicated,” Helen said.
Finally, a touch of humanness entered the doctor’s expression. “I know it sounds scary. But the success rate is very high. And without it, Kevin is at a higher risk for a repeat heart attack in the future, because there is blockage in the artery. The blood vessel will act as an alternative unclogged passage for the blood to move freely around the blocked artery. It really is your best option. And as I said, the ability to do a minimally invasive version of the bypass is truly good news for you.”
Kevin processed this news in the moments of quiet that passed in the room. Then, “How soon does this need to happen.”
“You’re here now. I’d recommend we get you in the OR within the next twenty-four hours.”
He blinked, pressing back into the stiff mattress of the hospital bed. Not what he’d expected. He’d hoped to put off such a major operation until after Christmas. After their fortieth anniversary.
Couldn’t they do it that way?
“The sooner the better,” Helen said.
Kevin shifted his eyes to his wife. “But the kids are all coming . . .”
She stood and kissed his head. “At this point, they’d be coming either way. We’d all feel better if you were fully on the road to recovery rather than waiting for such a big operation.”
