A Matter of the Heart

Did you ever have one of those days when it seemed you couldn't get anywhere on time, no matter how early you got up or how much you rushed? Well, this was one of those mornings.

I'm sure it's because I was worried and nervous. We were taking Harrison to the pediatric cardiologist at 10, and I was trying to prepare myself for the worst while hoping for the best. Turns out that’s not really my strong suit.

I was playing goofy little mind games with myself, thinking “well Dr. Klock said she didn’t think there was anything wrong. This is supposed to be just precautionary. So until I hear otherwise, I need to remember he is a strong, healthy little boy”. Somehow, that was not as settling as it should have been.

My intuition was distracting me with contrary vibes that told me otherwise. This was going to be a horrible day and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Now, it’s not that I think I’m some kind of psychic or anything. I’m not sure I even believe in all that. But over the years I’ve learned to rely on my intuition. If I expect a call from someone and he doesn’t call that night, it bothers me. Invariably, he’ll call the next day and tell me he’d been about to call before, but then decided to wait until morning. I also have “feelings” about when important people will come into my life, and when they will pass on or otherwise depart. So far I’ve never been truly surprised by major life events, even when everyone else was. I even have a way of sensing when I am about to have car trouble, and I swear it’s before the clunking and grinding noises start. Of course, I can’t prove any of this, and I don’t care to. But I do heed my “feelings” about things, especially when they are very strong.

So when I circled Tuesday the 11th on my calendar a few weeks earlier, and felt that unmistakable tingle in the back of my head that shot through my spine and out my toes, there was no way I could relax about The Appointment.

I could have sworn I was hurrying to get ready that morning, but my body seemed to rebel, stretching preparations out as long as possible. Apparently my subconscious had decided I could somehow slow time and bring it to a stand-still if I just paid extra attention to the minutia of the morning. 10 o’clock would never come, and my son would be a healthy and strong, wide-eyed three-year-old forever.

It didn’t work.

Time charged forward, paying no heed to my growing internal panic. Onward to the daycare. I must have read ten picture books before finally kissing his whole face and telling the teacher I’d be back to pick him up about 9:30. Much as I loved my job and had to get things done before The Appointment, never had I been so unhappy about going to the office. Where were my priorities, to be leaving him here so I could go get a couple hours of work in? What if after The Appointment, our whole world was different? Boy would I regret being at the office instead of with my baby.

It’s just for a couple hours. This is no different from yesterday or the day before. No matter what we find out, we have the whole rest of the afternoon to be together. I continued with my mantra all the way to work, chiding myself for the ridiculous melodrama I was turning this into.

If something was seriously wrong, Dr. Klock would have told me what she suspected. That’s one reason I like her. She doesn’t pull punches; she tells you kindly but clearly what is or might be wrong. If there’s something to worry about, she lets you know.

This time, she told me she detected a slight murmur, but that it was something relatively common in children this age. She just wanted to follow up with a specialist to be sure she was right.

I believed her. Everyone and everything was telling me that most likely, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Harrison. Even the worst-case scenario they were expecting was nothing so terrible in the whole scheme of things. Frequent checkups, maybe some kind of special precautions when going to the dentist. If he has a problem, how lucky to find out now, so it can be addressed and he can go on to have a normal life – rather than have it abruptly cut short later on. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and I could take the whole afternoon off work, if I wanted to. We had a great day of togetherness ahead of us, and lovely weather to accommodate anything we wanted to do.

So why did I feel as if my own heart was about to stop? Why did I have to struggle to breathe normally and go about my usual routine…but I knew why. Because my intuition is never wrong.

As I pulled my car into the parking lot, I paused for a moment of prayer. I wasn't very practiced at it, and I wasn't quite sure how you're supposed to word things. Lord, please help me through this day.(It occurred to me that being self-centered in my prayer might look bad to God) Please be with everyone who is facing similar struggles in their day, (uh-oh better make sure I don't sound ungrateful) and help us realize the great bounty you have blessed us with in our loved ones and the world you have given us to share. (Oh man. Might as well come clean - I mean, this is GOD I'm talking to - not like I'm fooling anyone) Forgive me my self-centered concerns and worries. I know that all things happen according to your plan. Please be with me today and help me remember that. And if my intuition is finally wrong this time, and everything turns out just fine, please help me remember to treasure Harrison every day through health as well as sickness. Don’t let me go back to taking him – or anyone else that I love - for granted each day. Please help them know how much they mean, and how important they are on this earth. Well, I'd managed to keep from trying to barter with God - but I'd still brought myself to tears with the histrionics of my prayers...or maybe it was just my frustrated anxiety.

It was going to be a very bad day. My whole world was about to change, and there was nothing I could do but pray.

* * * * *

In spite of my best efforts to stop time and keep events from moving forward, The Appointment was suddenly upon us.

After an agonizing process of testing and the silent exchange of glances followed by low murmurs and consultations outside the exam room, the doctor informed us that Harrison had “…what we call an ‘innocent murmur’. It shouldn’t cause him any trouble, and he’ll probably outgrow it in a few years.” As his words sank in, I felt an uncomfortable elation in our good fortune. But I wasn't surprised.

You see, my intuition wasn’t wrong, just misdirected. The TV in the waiting room confirmed it before we even saw the doctor.

That afternoon, as I watched my perfectly healthy little boy laughing in the sunshine and enjoying the park, I repeated my prayer of the morning.

But this time I prayed for the victims of flights 11, 77, 93, and 175; for the rescue workers who died fighting to save others on that bright September morning which had become clouded with fire, smoke and debris; for the families whose nightmares were just beginning; for the military personnel who would also give their lives in whatever might follow.

Then I prayed another prayer that my healthy son would still have a world worth growing up in.