Summers are our favorite part of the year. When the kids were younger, we always had swimming lessons, softball, or other activities that seemed to make it always go too fast. June 2018 we had just said goodbye to our oldest child who had just left for the Boundary Waters for a summer college class. Cell phone coverage would be sketchy. This class would be taking two field trips – a short trip and a longer one where no coverage would be available until they were back at base camp.
Husband, Lloyd, would be home with our 14-year-old because she wanted to have an unscheduled summer. The last summer before she started high school should be long lazy days with no immediate plans.
The pool was inflated on the hot summer day, Lloyd was working in the garden, our daughter was cooling off on her lounger. Something about her dad’s actions didn’t feel right to our youngest, even though he denied anything was wrong. He was sweating profusely and complained of “indigestion.” As a Girl Scout since age 5, she knew signs of danger, but he wouldn’t let her call 911, so she called her grandmother – my mom. Mom called me and I made the 911 call.
After I got to the hospital, I knew this was different than any other heart attack. I was thankful that I had rang his pastor on the way. The EKG was first, blood draw, nitro, questions, lots of questions. Then the solemn face of the doctor, the ER doctor that we had seen so many times before. He knew us. That look. He, as gently as he could, told me that my husband was having a major heart attack and he needed to be transferred to another hospital. It was a STEMI, the left anterior descending artery (LAD). He would be airlifted. The helicopter was on the way.
Pastor had arrived and had heard most of that news. He comforted us and read passages, then said prayers. He was still praying when the crew showed up to take him. They, not wanting to interrupt prayers, and me, wanting to rush husband out the door…I asked if pastor could continue while the crew got him ready for flight.
I wanted prayers and I wanted him to have the fastest treatment before he went into cardiac arrest.
I watched the helicopter take off not knowing what the future held. The tears that I forced back now came flooding down my cheeks. My vulnerability was only allowed for a few minutes. I had to be the face of hope, bravery and confidence to my very frightened child. I would comfort her by telling her the truth that no matter what happens, God is with her father. She should remember to pray for the hands of the surgeons, be thankful that she knew what to do in this emergency & grateful for the helicopter pilots.
Her father loved all forms of aviation. We had been to a few aviation shows and museums and he had wanted a helicopter ride. This ride – this particular life flight ride just for him, was the helicopter ride he needed, but not the ride he always dreamed of.
Journey By Eskew 