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  • I think about the paddles. I didn't get them but they put the stickers on when my pulse dropped dangerously low and the lines between beats became longer, so they were ready for my heart to fail. I was that close.

    I think about my teenage son. My husband picked him up at school and said, "We have to go to the hospital to see mom." He said our son was mad. It was his early dismissal day and he wanted to go home and relax (read -game). My husband told him to, "Suck it up and think about your mother." I don't think he understood, until he got to the ER. Then later in the Cathlab waiting room where (my husband told me) others spoke in whispers and tears about their loved ones with heart problems. One woman said they had to let her father go that night. He just couldn't go on any more. That is when my son got it and that night he couldn't sleep and was mad at himself that he didn't hug me.

    I think about the next day when he came to my hospital room with roses and a magazine about John Wayne. He looked tired. I said, "I'm ok Eli, not to worry."

    I think he is too young to have to stress about such things. It sucks being older parents.
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