Christmas in Japan
(Episode One)
On Friday, December 18, my mom and I left for Minneapolis. We were supposed to meet my older brother Chris there, but his passport had expired and he had to stay behind to figure out how to renew it. We would be going on to Tokyo just the two of us.
Or so we thought.
En route to Tokyo's Narita Airport, my mom suddenly began feeling sick. I waited outside the bathroom in the back of the plane, but when she came out, she felt even worse. A stewardess came to the back of the plane and Mom laid down on the floor. We covered her with blankets as she described her pain "as though an elephant were standing on her chest". It was like a scene from a movie-- the stewardess found a doctor who started asking questions about her medical history. I had been focused on getting things for my mom, but when the doctor said the symptoms sounded like a heart attack, I began to get really worried. It was surreal. Nothing could happen to my mom, I thought.
But there we were, miles above the earth, and my mom said her pain was a 9 on a scale of 1-10. The doctor, who turned out to be an anaesthesiologist, got her sister, apparently a general practitioner. She strongly recommended that we turn the plane around so my mom could be put in a hospital for observation at least overnight. It dawned on me that we probably weren't going to Japan after all.
The stewardess came back and informed us that we were an hour outside of Anchorage, Alaska. If we had gone any farther, we would have been over Russian airspace and unable to land.
For the next hour, I sat in a seat ahead of my mom, holding her hand and worrying. I was exhausted, but couldn't and wouldn't let myself fall asleep. It's funny that I never really felt tense or scared on the plane because I was so focused on doing what I could. When I sat down, my disappointment at not being able to go to Tokyo and my hidden sleepiness hit me in waves. I couldn't make sense of the inflight movie, "Big Daddy", because I didn't have any headphones and didn't really want any.
Mom was concerned less with her safety toward the end as she began to feel better, and more with making sure someone had Paul's (her fiancee) numbers. I couldn't help laughing. They couldn't call from the plane, but I promised to do so at the hospital.
Finally we landed at Anchorage, and I saw what resembled a live episode of ER. A team of EMS people swarmed around my mom, sticking her with needles, running an EKG test, and giving her more nitro glycerin. They put an oxygen tube in her nose and although she was sitting up and making jokes, I was surprised that my mom looked sick. The doctors stood out of the way, trying to stay informed with what was going on.
They put my mom in a metal chair and carried her down the plane's steep, slippery stairs. One of the EMS guys took my heavy bag and whisked it away somewhere. I stood there in the frozen tundra that was Anchorage's Airport, looking at the plane so high above me and watching them load my mom onto a stretcher and into the bright ambulance. I had no idea what to do-- ride in the back or front? Go in a separate car? I waited.
A guy motioned me to the front and I climbed in where it was warm and lit up. In the back, the woman who seemed to be in charge was administering what seemed to be more drugs. All I knew was my feet were defrosting and my mom was bundled up warm in clean white hospital sheets and under medical supervision. I relaxed, just as a friendly guy climbed into the van and drove us off.
He introduced himself as Mike, and as we tried to speed safely over the snow toward the hospital, we chatted about our siblings, our Christmas plans, my school, etc. I found out he would be working on Christmas and felt pride for the Americans every year who sacrifice time with their families to serve others. I was also amazed at the way everyone on the road seemed to just know to clear the road for our vehicle. "Trust me, they don't always get out of the way," Mike told me. At every intersection, he turned on the siren (wooowooowooo) and we ignored red lights and opposing traffic. It was great fun.
At the hospital we were immediately ushered into the ER and they began treating Mom. They found a cardiologist for her, an amiable man who looked disturbingly like Rob Reiner. He introduced himself with a warm handshake as Dr. Meyer, and I went off to call Paul. The expression on my mom's face when she first began talking to Paul was nice.
Eventually a nurse found us meals, I located my bag (oofph) and I sat with Mom as she broke the news to Jan. I ate the OK hospital food and quietly considered that we might not make it to Japan for Christmas at all. It depended on Mom's health, and she and Paul were talking about spending the holiday in Milwaukee, which just wasn't a substitute for a new continent and my big brothers. I hoped for the best in both cases.
That night I slept in a BarcaLounger in Mom's hospital room after watching a little TV and checking out the adjoining bathroom and view of the snowy parking lot. I fell asleep very fast, while Mom was talking to Dr. Meyer. What would become of us?
Saturday, in which Mom and Skye have a jolly day in the hospital
(no kidding)
