Health

In the spring of 2007, the day Grandma went to The Summit in Plantsville, Pop Pop called my Aunt Steffie complaining of chest pain. She brought him to Bradley Where they x-rayed his chest and decided immediately that he needed surgery. That night he was transferred to Saint Raphael's--the next day, after less than twenty-four hours, he went into triple bypass heart surgery. His heart, the doctors said, was weak, and on the verge of giving out. Two of his four arteries were clogged, another one was partially blocked. He was lucky something didn't happen already, they said. The surgery was an absolute emergency. 

When I heard the news I shuttered. Grandma had gone through big operations like this before, including a triple bypass, but Pop Pop had been healthy for the most part--or at least lucky enough to avoid major surgeries. That was good for him, because like me, he hated doctor's offices and especially anything to do with cutting your body open. I thought about where he was at that moment, how nervous he might be, who or what he might be thinking about. I wondered if the nervousness he must have been feeling that night could have caused a heart attack or some other issue--I know my heart would be pounding from the moment I heard I needed to go under the knife, as loud as Grandma tenderizing meat with her wooden hammer.

 

The surgery itself was a success, the complications afterward were a bigger problem.