Osler's Razor: Sunday Reflection: The calm

Sunday, March 12, 2023

Sunday Reflection: The calm

This has been a hard weekend.

On Friday morning I was at my desk with a full day ahead of me. At 10 I was meeting with a local supporter of one of our clemency clients, at 11 I was to talk to a writer working on a piece for New York magazine, and then at 12 I had a zoom with some state legislators about a slate of criminal law bills I have been working on with a group of others who care deeply about that kind of thing.

Partway through the first meeting, though, I got terrible news. My dad had suffered a heart attack at home in Michigan. It sounded very bad: he collapsed at the breakfast table, and his heart was stopped until the paramedics shocked him back when they arrived. My mom's voicemail suffered from a bad connection, and the information came through scattered intelligible words: "the ambulance... your dad... heart attack.... don't know...."

I called back and didn't get an answer. I talked to a few other people who confirmed what had happened, with not much additional detail. At 11:35 I bought a ticket for a 12:45 flight and raced to the airport.

When I got to Detroit, I was terrified to check in with my mom and brother. When I did, I found out that my dad was still alive. I went straight to the hospital and wandered around for a while, not knowing how to get into the locked cardiovascular Intensive Care Unit. For a long time I stood in front of a door that said "Automatic Door," assuming wrongly that the thing it did automatically was to open. Eventually I did get beyond the barriers, and found my mother and brother at the side of the bed. And my dad was there, his big heart still beating.

He hasn't really regained consciousness yet, and the days ahead are unclear. Today we will hope for some sign of cognition. On Monday he will get a heart catheter to (hopefully) determine what went wrong. And then in the days after that will be, at best, a lot of waiting and hoping.

My mom told me that when it happened-- when she heard his body thud on the floor amid the fistful of photos he had been holding-- a sudden calm came over her, allowing her to assess the situation and call for help right away; the help that saved him.

She described this as we walked into the hospital yesterday morning. I waited for a car to pass and waited for her to join me in the crosswalk. I looked over at her and said " That calm-- we know that was."

She nodded: "We do."

# posted by Mark Osler @ 1:00 AM