A flurry of activity ensued in the Cath. lab but it wasn't me doing the moving. I was on lock down with a mask over my face, full metal oxygen tank at my side, a co-op student monitoring my breathing (ok they said she was 'training') and they let the husband come in. 

"I'm sooo sorry" I said to him. I told him it would be routine, that he only had to stick around if I needed a ride to the other hospital for a stent now look at the mess I stuck him with. He looked like he was in shock. 

"You're apologizing???" He was in shock, normally he would have said something sarcastic. 

The mask got in the way of much further conversation and there seemed to be a lot of people moving around the space.

"Thank you for your help everyone, now if you don't need to be in the room please leave!" my cardiologist's voice boomed. The husband held my hand, not leaving my side as the remaining medical staff continued to rush around -I'm not sure what they were doing. An ambulance was called, there was something stuck to my left leg that felt like metal, IV lines were attached and changed. I felt tired.

"My chest bone hurts" I said starting to realize that something besides fainting happened.

"That's because you had CPR" the high school student said.

"Oh". It was slowly sinking in. I remembered the sound of fluid filling my brain and the nausea, I remembered telling them I was going to faint, but I didn't remember the DYING part! 

"I had a heart attack?" I asked, shocked.

And here's where the first correction came.

"No. You had Cardiac Arrest". 

"Isn't that the same thing?" I asked.

"No. Your heart stopped. You fainted and the bottom dropped out -your blood pressure dropped so low your heart stopped. It does that, it shuts down when too many confusing signals hit your heart at once. A heart attack is a signal your heart is in danger of stopping." The doctor explained. 

I vaguely remember another doctor coming in and introducing himself and telling me he was going to do a procedure but the timeline of that is still fuzzy. I believe that was the temporary balloon injected into an artery that was keeping me alive until I had surgery but again, it's now unclear. 

When the dye was injected (in my foot) to travel through my arteries to detect any blockages, it acted like a kink on a hose. It cut off the flow of blood to my heart and confused my body went into fainting mode and my heart stopped. 

It seemed like forever until the ambulance came and when they arrived there was another flurry of activity. I was hooked up to multiple 'things', the attendant introduced himself and was very nice to the husband who got to ride up front. I don't remember hearing him ask to work the siren but I'm sure he was thinking it.

Side story: My good friend, Pat who was my partner at the food bank was aware I was going for the stress test. She is the regional intake nurse manager for the cardiology department in a nearby, much larger hospital than the one I was being tested at. I was joking with her at church the day before the test that I had better NOT see her the next day. We both knew if I showed up at her hospital it would be for an operation to open up the arteries, most likely stents, a one night stay at most. 

"I better not see you!" she joked.

She was the first face I saw when the ambulance arrived at her hospital. She looked worried.  

"I'm sorry" was all I could muster. She stayed close to my side as they got me into a room somewhere. Jay was not around, I was resting, snuggled up to a cold hard steel oxygen tank. Apparently he was busy on the phone.

"Lissa, your family is here" Pat my friend 'nurse-whispered' at me.

What? Why was my family brought here? How did they get here? Who drove? Who -

"Is it THAT bad?" I asked her calmly.

"The doctors thought it would be a good idea". She answered calmly.

That was a pivotal moment. I could die. That stupid fainting was now going to kill me. Instead of panicking I went into ultra calm mode. I remember telling God.

"OK. If you think you need me, I'm ready, your will, not mine". No anger, depression, bargaining, nothing just full on acceptance and complete calm. Not something I would predict considering my usual neurotic self. My family came in my daughter in tears, my mother in shock, Jay hovering around and the twelve year old looking at me calmly, shrugging. He was taking in the drama but not buying what everyone was selling. I think I apologized, told my daughter to stop crying, shrugged at my mom, in a 'such a bother, don't worry, sorry to drag you downtown' kind of way. Everyone seemed to be working at hiding their fear. But for some reason -maybe the sedative- I felt no fear just calm. A doctor came in said they were taking me to surgery and the family left. 

I woke up in Intensive care. I was in and out of consciousness. Sometimes my mother was standing there then a code blue would be called and she'd have to leave. Sometimes my daughter was there, I tried to talk but there was a ten foot pole shoved down my throat so I tried to explain I couldn't talk because I had a thing in my throat. She laughed because I was just repeating what the nurse was telling in the distance.

 I remember the pole coming out of my throat and feeling happy, I remember an ice chip being dropped into my mouth and saying, "THAT'S THE BEST ICE CHIP I'VE EVER HAD!", I remember this tiny nurse flipping me over to give me a vigorous back massage. I remember feeling positively euphoric when they dropped an orange flavoured chewable vitamin in my mouth. "That's the BEST TASTING VITAMIN EVER!" 

I think it was that moment they decided I could get out of ICU and into a room. For me, it was affirmation that I had one very bad heart day and now I was going to be ok. Not so for the daughter, the 23 year old. Her dad, my ex died mere days after surgery the year before and my family knew what I didn't about the surgery I had just come through.