My fake heart attack

It all started with a pain in my right arm. A sharp little stabbing like an imaginary nurse stuck me with with a needle. I rubbed it, fussed over it. I remember thinking, “Could this be a heart attack?”

Looking back now, I believe that thought sent me on the path for all that happened yesterday.

That was in the morning. I kept going with my day: fed the kids lunch, corrected Math-U-See papers. Typical homeschool mom fare. Susan spilled milk, sending a lake of liquid across the table almost ruining science and math books.

By 1:30 pm, I jumped on the Dell. Tweetdeck, blogs to check. I decided to try out the online Mango program for Spanish. It was fun trying to get the accent just right, I imagined speaking Spanish to new friends at church. I even sent out a tweet about it too. Traded DMs with Tanya Dennis about the Mandarin Chinese also available.

My arm was still hurting. More thoughts of doom. What the heck is wrong with me? More computer time.

Then – the numbness shooting down my right arm, the tingling as I stood up to find my cell phone because I knew I needed to make a phone call.

911.

By now, I was scared. My heart pounded as I dialed the phone. My arm – wow, it hurt. Still numbness and tingling. Jesus, I’m scared, help me. Don’t take me yet. Too much to do, kids still so young. Joe…

So I laid on my kitchen floor answering the questions of the calm 911 operator. Lucy sat on top of me, Edmund with the goofy questions because he’s six and has no idea what it means when his mother is breathing heavily while lying on the floor. Peter, outside. Poor Susan. Scared too, because in Serious Mommy Voice I directed her to call my mom and my husband.

This is it. I can’t believe this. Jesus, help me.

Quickly there was a gathering of strangers in my kitchen. One EMT grew to several, then paramedics. All looked a bit perplexed because by this time my breathing started to return to normal, my arm felt better and I was cracking jokes. (Because that’s what I do when I feel ridiculous, with everyone looking at me. Kind of the way I felt walking down the isle to get married. Everyone’s looking at me! )

On the way to the hospital, with all the sirens and lights creating this Red Sea effect on Rt. 31, I thought of  the spilled milk and how Susan cried when I yelled at her. All that anger over an accident and protecting those stupid books.

How I wished I could go back to that moment to react differently.

You can guess the rest: the blood tests, chest x-ray, EKGs. I’m fine. No heart attack; not at risk for a heart attack either. I don’t smoke, drink, no strong family history. Medically, I’m as boring as a block of wood. By 9 pm, we were on the road home.

Diagnosis: arm pain. My diagnosis – and I feel silly admitting this after all the fuss I created yesterday – my arm fell asleep due to too much computer. I made this happen sitting at the laptop too long, combined with my knowledge of heart attack symptoms (arm pain, numbness, etc.), I freaked myself out when I felt the numbness. Calling 911 sent me into an “Oh, boy, This is serious,” hyperventilation-breathing fit.

I’m such a dork.

When I got home, Susan was still awake and I finally got to tell her what I was afraid I wasn’t going to get the chance to do. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” And she did.

Postscript: Just now, as I’m thinking how to end this story, to show you the impact of my fake heart attack and how I suspect it’s going to change me and my mothering, my four year old was scribbling on the wall with crayon.

Old me, before fake-heart attack me, would’ve yelled, pitched a good ol’ fit. The new me? Not one shout. It’s not about the books or walls, milk or crayon. It’s about people and love and forgiveness and mercy.

Hallelujah! It’s about Love.

***

Twitter and Facebook friends, much love and appreciation to you all. Often I’ve doubted what we have is true community, never again will I think that way. You proved yourselves with the retweets, replies, DMs, emails. Thank you, thank you. I look forward to the day we meet face-to-face, and if not here, with Him who has given you all to me for such a day like yesterday. Again, thank you.

Burned out on technology that teaches

It’s Wednesday night – Family Night at church -  and I’m looking for any excuse not to go.

Book of Revelation. Good, meaty theology there. But I still don’t want to go to Bible study tonight and it’s nothing against John or end times prophesy.

It’s the DVDs. Not the message – the method. I’m tired of watching DVDs. Sitting, listening, listening to a lecture. I don’t want a monologue, especially one where the preacher whips it out at a rapid fire pace leaving no room for his audience to breathe.

I don’t want to go. No lecture tonight, no more non-interactive DVDs.

Give me the fellowship and back-and-forth dialog with a real person.

I feel badly for Pastor. It must be easier for him to just pop in a DVD than prepare a lesson each Wednesday. He’s okay, but I suspect he’s content to let Famous Preacher Man share all his Revelation knowledge with us.

Too bad it’s via one dimensional media.

I’d much rather go for a drive tonight; think I will. Maybe I’ll go to the mall and walk around. I can’t bear sitting tonight…

***

Postscript:

I journaled this an hour before leaving for church yesterday with all intentions of escaping after dropping off the family. Never happened. Too much guilt: “The kids and Doc are here, so I can’t just leave.” Too much fear of being judged.

Maybe you are judging me now too.

I love being at church, I love the Word, and great teaching and preaching. Being with my second family. But like I wrote above, sometimes those DVDs… I’m home all day with the kids and as much as I love Twitter and social media, I crave human interaction. You don’t get a lot of that with a DVD. No, you don’t get any interaction from a DVD.

I did stay. I listened. I learned a few things I didn’t know before. I’m thankful for all that.

Yet I can’t wait for this DVD series to be over. Maybe I’ll start praying for the player to break. You never know – perhaps the Lord is tired of it too.

Do you have a bucket list?

So.

I’m 40 years old now.

40. I’ve been mulling over this number, and what it means, all day. Like I said before, I don’t feel 40, an age I thought ancient many years ago. Now it’s just a number that comes after 39.

Part of all this reflection has to do with death, my own mortality, and what I want to do with the rest of my life, assuming I have at least another 40 years to live on this earth. Before the Lord calls me home or Jesus comes back, I’ve got a few things I want to get done.

So this is the beginning of my bucket list – you know, all the things you want to accomplish before you die.

This is what I have so far:

1. Be the best Me I can be: Christ follower, wife, mom, home schooler, obsessive blogger (ha!), etc. I realize this is a bit on the vague side; hopefully I be able to sort this out with practical steps with more thought. One thing I do know: “Not sweating the small stuff in life” is kind of where I’m going with this.

2. Write… something. The desire to write a novel has given way to a hope that I can compose something of more eternal significance. Still chewing on this too. I have ideas that I need to work out.

3. Learn Spanish. I’ve noticed more Spanish speaking folk around town and we have more in our fellowship. I’ve always been fascinated with other languages, but so far have lacked the discipline to get another language to stick. All of my Bahasa Indonesia has gone dormant. Maybe if I can accomplish Spanish, I’ll take on the Bahasa Indonesia.

That’s it as of today, Day One of 40 years. Do you have a bucket list? Please share.