I was admitted to UWMC on Thanksgiving Day. Since we didn’t really know what was going to happen, in addition to needing help with the kids, all of my siblings left their families to fly across the country (IND>SEA) to come see me and help out. I’ll never be able to thank them enough for their selflessness, love and caring that they gave to my children.
The fellow told my family there was a 33% chance my heart would get better, 33% chance it would stay the same and 33% chance it would get worse. Like I mentioned before, the theme of this story is if something rare and bad could happen, it did.
That night my daughter slept like the perfect baby she is and only woke up a few times to breastfeed. The next morning, I remember thinking that I was feeling better but it was probably just wishful thinking.
The hospital is on post so my husband went to the gate to help my parents in with his military ID. The cardiologist and about 10 residents then proceeded to fill my room. At that point he asked if I wanted to wait for my husband to get back to review my results. I told him to go for it because I always have the mentality of ripping off the bandaid. This wasn’t the time for that way of thinking.
I started having severe shortness of breath at night a few days after I got home from the hospital. The shortness of breath made me anxious which led me to believe it was a panic attack. My husband woke up and I told him how I was feeling. I felt confident and so happy with my life. I had no clue why I was feeling this way. It felt like something was wrong, like I could die. This was the first time I told my husband that, if I died, I wanted him to change our daughter’s middle name to my first name. I didn’t want her to forget me.