How much is that ride in the high-tech whirligig…the one that could save your life?

published in The Fauquier Times-Democrat Weekend, Friday, Dec. 3rd, 2010
 I have decided not to write about my husband and his heart attack this week because I am afraid I might be boring you. It is not a good thing to beat a dead horse, and it is even worse when you use your spouse as that defunct equine. (Also, the man is now conscious and able to read this column, so I shall have to be more careful about what I reveal.) There is much more to be said (or written) on this topic, but I will save it for later, because I doubt you want to read the serial, unabridged version of my family’s crisis, week after week.

I wish this column were interactive. I could check whether your eyes are glazing over or whether you are rushing off to check the obituaries. I could ask you what sounds more interesting: a column about my progressively degenerating microwave, or a column about the myriad misadventures of my children. Perhaps family emergencies look more appealing.


I don’t have any Christmas lights up yet. I can barely understand how it came to be December so suddenly. (This is a little deceptive on my part, because I just made you think that I usually have lights up at this time. In truth, I wait until my children are on break from school or college and let them mess with the bundles of lights and whatever meager and mismatched decorations are to be propped up about the house. I am no Martha Stewart. Our formal dining table has not been seen for sometime, as it houses microscopes, gadgets, papers, and other junk associated with modern life. )


The last I recall, it was November 8th, and my husband’s heart had stopped. In some ways, that’s when time stopped too. Oh, thank you, I see you will tolerate one more column from me. But if you plan to smash a tomato on this page to register your vegetarian displeasure, let me advise you that it is better to eat it, and it is better when cooked than raw, apparently. Tomatoes are a heart-healthy food.


Last week’s column left off with my husband being airlifted to Fairfax Hospital on the day that I entered my time warp. “My only free helicopter ride,” he would say later, “and I was asleep for it!” Although I was (and daily am) immensely relieved to have him back, I had to gently inject some reality, “True, you weren’t conscious for it, but I have serious doubts about that ride being free.”


Want to know how much such a helicopter ride costs? I haven’t received a bill yet, but I’ve been able to see online that our insurance company is balking at the charge. They have disapproved of the $ 18,504 high-tech, lifesaving ride.

I will tell you upfront that I am not a big spender. To me, “expensive” is a pair of shoes that costs $ 19.99 at Payless. I much prefer to buy them on clearance, when both the temperature outside and the price of the then-useless sandals have dropped to the single-digit range.

So it might seem odd to you, but I am not in the least bit concerned about the $ 18,504 that might eventually, however slowly, have to come out of our pockets. Indeed, if every dime associated with his transport, hospital stay, and his miraculous and complete recovery (and that’s upward of ten thousand dimes) needs to be produced from our pockets, I will still not be afraid.


You might think that I am in some sort of financial denial. Granted, a charge of $ 18,504 appears to be as distant a star as a charge of $ 185,040 from my perspective, but here’s how I figure it: having my husband here, and having this brilliant and engaged father of our six children here, is worth far more to me than any mountain of dimes. I am ashamed to say that in our 24 years of marriage, I have not always felt this way. It has taken this emergency for me to realize that and to appreciate him.


And here’s what else I figure: if the God I serve is able to take a situation like this, and if the God I serve heeds our fervent and heart-felt prayers to answer and restore life, then He is not going to abandon me now. It will all be well.


I know that we must all go to meet our Maker at some point. We cannot extend life in our various carapaces indefinitely. I’m glad that my husband’s time was not now.


Please don’t think your local columnist is putting out a tin cup. I have already been overwhelmed by the care and generosity of our community and friends and family. I would not need another act of kindness, because already, my cup runneth over.


So, if all those years of saving money on shoes can now be used towards the technology, skill, and care that went into saving my husband’s life, then it has been money well saved and now, money even better spent.