Everyone has those moments in life that you remember. Those moments when you recall every detail, those moments that stay with you no matter how much time passes. Those special days, like the day you married or the birth of your children, or those not so special ones that cause pain and frustration. I have many good and bad moments, ones that I remember every detail, like I remember my own name and birthday. February 16th, I added another. The day that my beloved husband suffered a heart attack and set our family on a journey that we will be traveling for the rest of our lives.
Trouper woke me up with a stomach ache about 3 am, told me he had thrown-up and thought he pulled something in his back. I told him to take some Advil and try and get some rest. He couldn't get comfortable and moved from the bedroom to the living room, trying not to wake me. When I did awake a few hours later, he looked terrible and said his stomach and back were killing him. I talked him into going to a "Doc in the Box" as it was Saturday and our family physician would be closed. He agreed, and I started getting ready. I walked out of the room for a few minutes and when I came back, his breathing was labored and he said he felt like he was drowning. I told him I was calling 911 and he said no, just get me to the ER. With the help of our son, I drove to our local hospital, where he was able to get out of the car and walk into the registration area. By the time I parked, I was met at the door and told he was having a heart attack and the doctor would speak with me shortly. I was taken to his room, where a dozen nurses and doctors worked on him. All I could do was cry, and all he could do was mouth he loved me and that he was sorry. Typically Trouper, worried about everyone else and trying to comfort me. They shuffled him to the cath lab, where I was told they would evaluate and place stents if needed. I was told it was a two hour process and someone would update me. The children and their friends arrived, my children are lucky to have friends who surround them during such difficult times and we sat, holding hands, praying and waiting for news. Two hours passed, then three, and sometime during the fourth, a nurse came out to get us, the doctor needed to speak to us. He confirmed that there was major damage, that Trouper was stable and had two stents placed. He was confident of a full recovery but said the transport team was preparing him to be moved to Piedmont Hospital, in downtown Atlanta. I could see Troup, through the glass, and my heart broke. I cried, and the doctor told me not to be upset, I had saved his life, I had gotten him to the hospital in time. When the kids and I were finished with our meeting, Trouper's Aunt Kim had arrived and she and I drove downtown while the kids took cars home, dealt with our animals and changed clothes. Emily was actually still in her PJ's. We arrived at Piedmont and went to the CCU unit, where we were told he would be going upon arrival. They directed us to ICU and where we were told they were evaluating him. We waited, and waited, and waited. After two hours, the nurse came out, said the doctor needed to speak to us and we were ushered back, behind the closed doors. The sight was shocking. 21 machines surrounded my precious husband, along with many nurses, doctors and staff. They had to place him on a vent, and had put him in a deep sedation to keep him still. I remember looking at the kids, Ryan was leaning towards the wall, crying and Emily was leaning on him. They offered me a chair, for fear I would pass out, and Kim stood silent, with tears running down her face, holding her hand over her mouth so she didn't scream. Dr. Blincoe, a cardiologist, said three things:
1. Your husband is the sickest person at this hospital. 2. Call who you need to call and 3. If you pray, start because it will be a miracle if he makes it through the night.
I started to ask questions but my voice didn't come, I just sat there. I couldn't cry, I couldn't speak, I had to will myself to breath. He told us they had some more testing, that Trouper was suffering heart failure brought on by the heart attack and that his body was fighting by raising his blood sugar, which was currently 800. He kept using the word "grim", never smiling or offering a word of comfort or encouragement. Just saying "it's grim Mrs. Gamble". We left, I had to get the kids out of there for a few minutes, and update our families. Uncle Jay, cousin Christopher and his sweet Noah arrived, along with friends Larry, TJ and his wife Jamie. I took them back, TJ lasted a few seconds and had to leave. It was heartbreaking. For hours, I would stay with Troup for a few minutes, then be asked to leave and each time Dr. Blincoe would be sitting beside Troup's bed, and tell me it was still "grim". Cousin Amanda, Todd and a few more of the kids' friends arrived and we filled the hallway just outside ICU. Troup's sister, Jenny, and her family arrived in the wee hours of the morning and I remember feeling such pain for her. I lost my brother, and I know the helplessness that you feel as a sibling, not being able to help. Eventually, I sent the kids' home and promised to call if anything changed. The remaining family spanned out in the waiting room, talking, praying, texting, watching movies; anything to keep busy. I would go back every few minutes, to check on my sweet Troup, and Dr. Blincoe would inevitably frown and say the word "grim" again. I started to notice that he never moved, each time I went back, he was sitting there, with either a folder in his hand or his glasses pulled down, observing Troup. Everyone insisted I go home and rest but I couldn't leave. If there had been room in the bed, I would have crawled into it and held him but instead, I stood there, holding his hand, reminding him of special moments we have shared, begging him to stay with me. Around 5am, his nurse told me I should go home and get some rest, or at least have a shower and change clothes. I noticed that Dr. Blincoe had gone, and she said "if he left, things are looking up". She told me Dr. Blincoe would be back by 7am, so I had two hours. Amanda and Todd drove me home, and when I walked in, there were teenagers everywhere. One thing about Troup, everyone loves him, especially the kids' friends. He is the "look what I can do" dad and his humor and love extends to everyone. I sat for a minute, in his chair, and cried. I cried for him, for me and for the kids. At that moment, I decided I was going to be brave, and fight for this man, the love of my life, while he was too sick to fight for himself. That day changed me, changed us, changed our family. Often, it is your deepest pain that forces you to become your true self and we were going to be a team of fighters. Fighters for Trouper, we would become Team Super Trouper.
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