My Dad’s Heart Attack and the Power of Prayer

Lucy and I had just finished meeting the family’s newest addition (her cousin, my nephew). He was two days new, tiny and sweet. We only had a few minutes before we had to get back home so Jon could get to his regular holy hour. 

I was pulling away from their house and I got a phone call from my brother. It was short and succinct. I could hear him take a breath and he said, 

“Dad collapsed tonight.” 

I responded “WHAT?” 

CPR.

Sedated.

Intubated.

Dad is stable now, but we don’t know what happened. 

Words you hope you’ll never hear in the same sentence about either of your parents.

From my rear view mirror, I could see Emma flying out of the house, yelling something I couldn’t understand. Did we leave something behind? No. It was more obvious than that. We were getting the same news at the same time, from different brothers. I got out of the car, we hugged, and I said I needed to get home so Jon could do his holy hour. We didn’t know much else. 

Our Lady of the Rosary

October 7 was the date. The day we celebrate Our Lady of the Rosary in the Catholic Church.  My mind immediately wandered there as I was driving home. I wasn’t sure what to think or feel besides knowing that I needed to pray the rosary.

You know, I always felt Mary had a special place in our family.  I grew up knowing that my grandma, Nona, prayed her rosary every day. Her house was littered with rosaries. My mom said she always remembered coming down from her bedroom in the morning and Nona was sitting at the table praying her rosary. 

I have always remembered my parents’ birthdays based on the feast day. My dad’s is the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God. My mom’s is the day the church celebrates the birth of Mary. And I’d bet money that my mom had already done her rosary that day. She never misses. 

As I took Jon’s holy hour, I prayed the rosary. I kept looking up at Jesus in the monstrance, then over at the image of Mary hanging on the wall.  I wanted to freak out, but I kept getting the sense that all will be well. “All will be well” can mean a lot of different things to me. I wanted the best outcome, but I was still afraid. I kept anxiously twisting the rosary beads as I prayed and by the time I was done praying, my rosary was broken in two places. 

All Good News

It was a long, sleepless night for most of us. But the news kept coming back promising. The CT scan returned normal. Cath lab was next. He had a fully blocked artery, stent placed. And now, the “deep freeze.” Therapeutic hypothermia for dad, cooled to a chilly 91° to prevent any possible neurological damage.

Labs kept coming back good. He was doing so well, they warmed him early.  Now to wean him off sedation. Would there be neurological damage? Turns out, no. Praise God. The nurses kept telling mom how lucky he was. Luck? No, it was Divine Providence. The power of prayer. The power of the Rosary. 

Little Fiats (no, not the car)

Miracles, big and small were obvious. My dad was mowing the lawn when he had his heart attack. It was their neighbor, Dave, who noticed. He said a step or two in either direction and he wouldn’t have been able to see dad from where he was standing in his house. If he and his wife had eaten dinner in front of their tv as they typically did, he wouldn’t have seen dad. Perhaps they were saying “yes” to these strange, unnoticed promptings of the holy spirit. Unbeknownst to them, their little fiat had big consequences. 

It was Dave and mom who did CPR until the EMS arrived in three minutes. My parents live walking distance from the fire station, something I never thought to be grateful for until now.  

The Power of Prayer?

The countless people praying for my dad was a major miracle in itself. Prayer chain after prayer chain was activated. My dear friend promised that she’d  pray for him like he was her own dad, and I knew she meant it. Friends texting to let me know their rosary had been said. Friends asking if they could ask their friends to pray. Cousins, extended family, Catholics and non-Catholics, the praying type and the non-praying type, more priests than you could imagine, were praying that night. I wish I could see a visual of all the prayers rising up to heaven like incense. We might have had the smoke of a small forest fire on our hands!

My dad left the hospital after five days, which still amazes me. From what I understand, that’s a pretty long hospital stay these days, but the man had no heartbeat for a few minutes and underwent the world’s longest brain freeze, all to bounce back in a few days. He continues to rest and has more healing and recovering to do, but is doing well.

In the end, one has to grapple a bit with the miraculous. Sometimes the answers to prayer come slowly and sometimes it takes months or years. Sometimes it feels as though we don’t see the answers or the change that it produces on this side of heaven. But sometimes we can see and feel and hear the answers to prayers in the circumstances and events and people that surround us. And in those moments, we lift up even more prayers of praise and gratitude for the gifts we will never fully deserve but willingly receive, desiring that, more than ever, God may be glorified in and through us while we still have life and breath to do so.

For Prayer and Reflection

• What are the gifts you have received from God?
• How is God glorified through you?
• What do you need to thank God for today?
• Rest in the silence with God today.

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