Quiet Amidst the Chaos

April 14, 2026: ER visit at ABQ ER. Earned ambulance ride to become an inpatient. Got J situated. B decided to come down. Admitted to Presbyterian Rust. IVs….so.many.IVs. More sticks than IVs.

1:30am before Cath Lab, I think. Catherine, PA, comes to get details. Presents like the first ER doc who blew me off on March 31. I am NOT going through that again, so I said something. She softens a bit, asks A LOT of questions. I’m so tired, but I retell the chain of events the best I can. Trying really hard to not shut down, but I feel like I am disassociating. L is still there, so I can relax a bit. She will remember. I’m SO tired. I just want to go to sleep.

Cath lab. “That’s clipped!?” 😁 Multiple Vessel Disease. CABG (coronary artery bypass graft) needed. “You can’t bend your wrist for at least 2 hours.” Echocardiogram. Can’t flip over like the tech wants. She wants me to move my arm?! “Do you want me to call your nurse?” “YES!” Charge nurse comes in. Hand/wrist strapped to board. SHE flips me to my side with ease. Echo hurts. Felt like she’s pushing my front out the back. My nurse, R: “Would you like me to let the rabbi know you’re here?” Me: “Yes please.” Charge nurse: “My dad had this surgery 9 years ago. He did great. And he’s a man.” R: “My mom had this surgery 6 years ago. She’s retired, but VERY active.”

“It’s just We Three. It’s not perfect, but it is.”

B is here. Thank God, B is here. We three. It’s finally just we three. J carefully climbs into hospital bed after I offer a snuggle, asking if it’s okay to do so as he’s climbing in. B is on the couch by the window. Tears. So many tears. It takes some coaxing and a little cursing, I think, but I get him to roll the chair over on my left. He lays his head on me. Finally. It’s We Three. It’s just We Three. It’s not perfect, but it is. Surrounded by my babies. My world. My universe. NOTHING ELSE MATTERS. Bliss. Fear. My babies. I want to hold them FOREVER. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m not ready to leave.” “I can’t do this without you.” “I am a part of you. I’ll always be there. I live inside both of you.” I could stay like this forever. I’ve held them like this before, in 2010, a few days after J was born, at the foot of my bed, when my BP was high and I was readmitted to Pres. I didn’t think I was coming home then. I don’t know what to think now. I’ve held them like this before, in 2016 or 2017, after it officially became “We Three.” In the rocker in J’s bedroom. J hugging my right leg, B hugging my left. I took a picture (of course I did). But no picture tonight. Just words that I can’t remember. Energy passing between us. Love. So. Much. Love. It’s palpable. Je brings the kids and flowers. We laugh at the SmartWater vase. It’s perfect. More love. B, R, D. So much love. I am SO tired. I mouth that to B, who’s sitting close to my head. He clears the room in my next breath. Sends J in to say, “goodnight.” Turns out the light. He’s going to leave. He says something to everyone in the hall, turns around, comes back in. More tears. Says words I don’t remember. All I feel is love. So. Much. Love. My baby boy. I watched him grow up on the bimah at his bar mitzvah and then again, in this moment, when he grew into a strong, confident man right there in front of my eyes at my bedside. He knows exactly what J and I need, and he is steadfast to make sure we are both taken care of.

Another ambulance ride in the middle of the night. This time to Pres Downtown.

There’s going to be a Part 2 of this. I am 19 days Post-CABG. It’s been so busy around here. I am grateful for it. I feel incredibly humbled at all the love and support. I sometimes feel like I am a bystander in this, the action going on all around me. But then I inadvertently touch the bump at the base of my throat. I jump. Reality starts to creep in. I look down and see the scar.

The zipper. Reality settles in…a little deeper than before.

The zipper. Reality settles in…a little deeper than before. This isn’t a movie. Or an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. It’s my life. The beginning of the next chapter. And I am scared AF, but oddly calm.

It occurred to me just a split second ago, that I must be starting to fully process what’s gone on since April 14 when I went to ABQ ER for the second time in 2 weeks.

Quiet amidst the chaos. Didn’t turn on the tv. Didn’t even read on my Kindle. Looked out the windows every chance I got. Sat in silence when there were no visitors (and when N and B had confiscated my phone). Sitting here at home in the quiet now. J is at school. It’s 9am. I am waiting for a busy day to begin.

Quiet amidst the chaos. Remembering. Processing. Glad I am still here. So glad. SO SO SOOOO GLAD.