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When life finally settled a bit, it gave me a lot of time to think. Sometimes time can be our worst enemy. Time allows our minds to run wild, to consider possibilities better left undiscovered. Time for me was an enemy for a while. Time, boredom and an active imagination allowed me to become my own worse enemy. Forget about the high blood pressure, the clots, or the blood still pooling around my heart—time could be the real killer.
There were times when all I would do was dwell on what could happen. I would sit for hours and wonder if the blood pooling around my heart would eventually crush what was left of my aorta. It’s called congenital heart failure. It can kill me and I’d leave my baby without a mother and my husband without a wife. It’s hard enough trying to care for a baby with my working at half capacity, but Ryan by himself trying to do the job of a single parent led me to worry about a whole new set of problems. Ryan would have to have his mom move in, or he would have to move home. It’s not right for a thirty-year-old man to be subjected to that. As you can tell time allowed me to have this whole slippery slope type reasoning.
If I wasn’t worrying about my heart crushing itself, I was upsetting myself over the condition of my kidneys. I just knew that there was a distinct possibility of my kidneys throwing clots or not working properly and I would eventually develop diabetes and have to go on insulin. I was also concerned about how much I should or even could urinate? How much water or liquid could I drink and not damage my kidneys in some way? What is the optimum amount of liquid to allow my kidneys to function properly? I’d convince myself that I had to monitor my urine closely. I promised myself to watch the color and note the smell every time I went to the restroom. But that wasn’t all, sometimes time really let my mind go crazy.
If it wasn’t the heart or the kidneys, it was the lung. I’d ask myself questions like, “Will I ever have my lung working back at 100%?” “Will I have to start taking breathing treatments if it doesn’t improve?” “Will I ever be able to run around the softball diamond? Can I stretch a double into a triple?” Here I was worrying about a game that was at least a year in my future if that. The fact that my leg was still swollen, my muscles went into atrophy, I couldn’t even kick my leg or squat down, didn’t phase my softball fantasy in the least. But time also allowed me to think about all the people who needed a thank-you.
The following are copies of thank-you cards or letters I sent out. The first is the most important thank-you letter that I could write. It was to the surgeon who saved my life. The surgeon who after three different surgeries, still had time to answer my family’s questions. The surgeon who spent two days in the hospital operating on me—Dr. David H Savage.
Dr. Savage,
I have tried several times to write a letter to express my gratitude to you for saving my life. But what really can I say to fully explain the depth of my feelings. It’s times like this that I wish I were a Pulitzer Prize winning author. How can one person thank another for her life without sounding cliché, prosaic, or unintelligible?
The fact is my life is a miracle and you were the man who was used for this miracle. God knew exactly what I needed and who the man was that possessed the knowledge, skill and compassion to get the job done. The fact that you’ve worked a miracle in my life is something for which I’ll always be thankful.
When I look into my baby’s face, smell my grandmother’s homemade pot roast, or hear my husband laugh uncontrollably over some inane TV show I’m reminded of how precious life is. Even the dog hair covering my black sweater seems precious somehow—annoying but precious.
Don’t get me wrong; there are days when I question, “Why me?” There are days when I have a pity party over the condition of my leg. But it only takes the smell of newly cut grass for me to be thankful again.
When you saved my life, you not only gave me back the smile I get when I watch the little neighbor boys play ball, but you gave me back to my family. On February 2nd and 3rd a wife, mother, daughter, sister, granddaughter, friend and teacher were given back to my loved ones and those relationships were restored.
There are no words that can express the depth of my gratitude or the earnest pleadings for blessings on your behalf.
The best I can do is to say that my heart beats with purpose thanks to God, and my heart beats with blood thanks to you.
Your Miracle,
Heather Ruth Yost
P.S. Thank-you for not giving up on me!
The following note was sent to the ladies and gentlemen in the CVICU along with fifty dollars in pizza coupons. I remember one night when they all ordered pizza and thought that I’d rather have that than the ice chips I was allowed every now and then. My first day out of the hospital I managed to eat a half of piece of pizza; it was delicious. But I digress. Here is the note.
Put note here!
The church body also received a thank-you note. I feel it lacked in comparison to the others especially after all the hours of prayer. The power of their prayers I know made a difference. The church ladies all got together and brought wonderful meals to the house for the first three weeks I was home. When I heard that the church was going to provide meals I was sure that I’d taste about fifteen different types of spaghetti, but I have to admit there are a lot of excellent cooks in our congregation.
I know this note is kind of a little late in coming, but it took me a while to put the proper words together. Being an English teacher should give me an edge, but it just gave me more words from which to choose. I wanted this note to fully express how grateful I am and how blessed I feel.
First, let me say thank-you for the meals that were provided. The culinary talents in the church allowed Ryan and our entire families to exercise our table muscles a bit more than we should. The ministry means so much when one is confined to a chair and can’t even see a kitchen. The first few weeks home were pretty hard on everyone but your generosity alleviated so much.
Second, and most importantly, let me say thank-you for you prayers and continued prayers. During my time recuperating I was given many verses. One of the first verses I was given after I learned what had happened to me was Matthew 18:20. “For where two or more are gathered together in my name there I am in the midst of them.” Knowing that the entire congregation was praying for me brought such a peace.
They tell me that there were dozens of times I could have and even should have died, but the Lord spared me. I don’t know why this happened or why I was spared. I do know that through this God received glory.
I thank you all for all you support and continued care and prayers
In Christ,
Heather Yost
write more Thank You Fors here too
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