Three months ago, to the day, our lives changed forever. On June 12th, my husband had a heart attack and two strokes. It happened without warning. He’d arrived home from work as he always does. He stopped by my home office and flirted a little, and then the next time I saw him, he was sprawled out on the bathroom floor, unresponsive but conscious. The moment I saw him, I was like a child wanting their mother. In truth, that was the first call I made. It was automatic. If something is wrong, call mom. She did what any matriarch would do; she immediately got me to focus and to call 9-1-1.

Since that fateful day, we have spent over three weeks living at hospitals. At first, thinking it would be a one-episode event, we tried to remain hopeful. Less than a week and a half after starting outpatient therapy, we were back in the ER specifically because of his heart. He’s long had heart issues since he had rheumatic heart fever as a child, but had managed it with medication. Then life happened, and he missed taking some of his medications for longer than he should have. I honestly think that was the catalyst. Eighteen years my senior, he forgets that he’s not as spry as he once was. We are aging. Because of his recent strokes, transcatheter heart surgery was our next step.

I don’t want to drone on about how difficult it has been. Of course, it has. He has aphasia and apraxia, and because it’s difficult for him to speak, it makes every day challenging. However, what makes it all strokes of luck is that we’re still here, together, taking it day by day. Trust me, I’m no superhero; my daily depression medication cocktail has helped to keep me even keel. However, I don’t see what has happened to my husband as disastrous as it may seem. I think of it as a wake-up call. And I suppose that’s a good place to start. Instead of thinking that life is out to get us and, why me, I see it as a series of events that remind us just how fragile life can be.

If my husband had not had the heart attack and strokes that ultimately also led to him having heart surgery, we would have continued to ignore his life-long heart issues. These inflection points have made us address his issues rather than continue to ignore them and take life for granted. At the end of the day, although costly, he has received the treatment he needed and repairs to his heart. While I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, I am not angry. Tired, yes. Broke, yes. But each day, I see how blessed we are. Our family and friends have been there for us in ways I could never have imagined. So even though we won’t be going on a week-long cruise this year for my birthday (we’re so close to Emerald status!), and he’s still unable to say my name, he’s still the man I married, and, as he always likes to say, we’re stuck like glue. I’m grateful that we still get to drift off to sleep every night while holding hands. He’s my poopie, and I’m his peepoo.