( – promoted by buhdydharma )
During the fall of 1996, my wife, Holly, came down with a fever approaching 102.
She was in bed for a few days and when she didn’t seem to be recovering, her mother took her into the emergency room (we hadn’t gotten together yet).
The doctors ran tests, pronounced it a bad flu, and sent her home.
Less than 24 hours later, her mother walked into her living room to find Holly lying on the couch, incoherent and utterly delirious.
Her fever was now over 105.
She had developed scabs on the palms of her hand and the bottoms of her feet.
She was unable to stand, talk or even make eye contact.
And by the time they arrived at the hospital this time, she was in a coma…
Holly was diagnosed with Endocarditis, which is “an inflammation of the inner layer of the heart” (and, incidentally, its what killed puppeteer Jim Henson years before).
In my wife’s case, her outgoing aortal valve was infected and prolapsed, meaning every time her heart pumped… bad blood leaked into her system.
(Possible point of interest: my wife is a “marfanoid”, which in any other of my diaries would be the start of some inappropriate rant of a distinctly sexual and alien nature, but in this case means, unbeknownst to her, she was prone to heart problems from birth.)
What followed, medically, was MASSIVE antibiotics.
What followed, personally, was phone calls summoning her family to Los Angeles with the very real possibility that she was about to die.
Clearly, she didn’t.
She came to consciousness three days later, then spent a full month in the hospital (and another three at home) recovering physically, learning to walk again (due to atrophied muscles), and growing her hair back (it all fell out due to the antibiotics).
But I need to rewind to the hospital for a moment…
After she recovered and before she was discharged, her team of doctors debated how quickly to crack her chest, open her up, and replace her bad aortal valve (with one from a pig heart). Of the five doctors, four wanted to do it right away, but the last argued for restraint. This doctor felt since she had gone through so much already, why not let her go home and get better… then do the surgery when she was more fully healed.
The other four physicians were not pleased.
Standard procedure was to do the operation ASAP and there was also a possibility, with the bad valve still in her chest, that ANOTHER infection could arise.
Escaping endocarditis once is a amazing, twice… doesn’t happen.
Beside… one way or another… the valve replacement HAD to happen.
See, the heart is not a regenerative organ, so damage now its damage forever.
The prolapse would always exist.
“The human heart cannot heal itself,” she was told over and over.
Still, the lone doctor held fast, putting her reputation on the line and… she WON, allowing Holly to be discharged, delaying further trauma, including the many inches long scar that was destined to traverse her chest for the rest of her life.
I was reminded of the above as I pushed people to go see her performance in Minneapolis tonight and during that “wifepimp” I jokingly goaded people to yell what I do whenever I go to a gig and watch her play live: “Take off your top!”
Because, see, there is no scar.
About a month after we re-met (we actually went to high school together), I accompanied Holly to a procedure (called a T.E.E.) designed to determine how much of the prolapse (and therefore the leak) still existed. The probe was sent down her throat, the whatever-the-heck-you-call-it was activated, then… the technician stared dumfounded.
No leak. No prolapse.
Her heart had… somehow… inexplicably… healed itself.
I relate this saga at this political moment because I’m reminded that MIRACLES do happen (and electing ANY Democrat… not to mention an African-American Democrat… President of the United States will be nothing short of a MIRACLE), but they do require a little nudge from us mortals. They require us to have faith and courage… like the one doctor who stuck her neck out… and they require unwavering patience.
I know I have this faith and courage and patience.
I also know this thing we dream WILL eventually happen.
But faith is easier for me than most… I’ve seen a miracle first hand.
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…tomorrow morning, but it seemed, for some reason, better HERE first.
I’m still testing Dharma waters, which seem so calm and warm.
One night she felt funny at work and I insisted she go to the hospital ( yeah I work in one but we do children ) even though she did not want to. So I called 911 shipped her out and I thought it was nothing. I was pretty floored when I called to check on her only to find out she was in the ICU.
She has had to have her aorta dissected twice since then.
happen when you least expect them
that’s what’s so delicious about this life stuff…
i v. much like traditional american music, with its celtic roots, instrumentation, and complexity.
thanks for turning us onto Holly’s music and story.
to her doctor for daring to go against what sounds like the conventional wisdom at the time. I wonder what gave her the confidence to stand firm with so many colleagues arguing for the surgery? It does sound miraculous, that’s for sure!
It`s so nice to read of simple twists of fate, that end miraculously well. Thanks for sharing it.
I, on the other hand was on the same ship, where I was the one arguing for immediate surgery, against doctors who “knew better”. My wife died 25 years ago today. After she died, they regretted having not operated.
Luckily she left with me, the miracle of my daughter who was almost 3 years old at the time. Her last words were, “take care of the baby”.
And I now have two lovely grandchildren.
Does the full moon mellow you out while others freak?
But, I must admit that I’m a little angry with you Jeffrey. Why didn’t you tell us here at DD about your wife’s performance in Minneapolis? You know, me being in the area and all, I might have gone. But I don’t think I would have taken up the challenge of yelling for her to take off her top 🙂
of far more healing than we know. Doctors used to tell stroke victims that all the improvement they would get would come in the first six months.
We now know that victims of stroke and brain injuries continue to improve for years.
So pleased to see your happy ending, Jeffrey. You and Holly are both very lucky people.