There has been a lot of talk about worry the last couple of days at my house. My father was in the hospital yesterday for a heart procedure. While there is no such thing as a “minor” surgery when it comes to the heart, his procedure (a heart ablation) is not even considered surgical; yet he stayed up all night worrying about dying. He almost talked himself out of it entirely!
Well, there was a complication at the start of the procedure and they did not go through with the ablation. They wanted to be in the vein and instead found themselves in his artery. He was at serious risk of having a stroke if they continued, so they stopped what they were doing, got control of the bleeding, and sent him into recovery.
While he was very upset at first, it didn’t take him long to realize the doctor did the right thing. He was having the surgery to prevent a stroke, not to induce one! With all of his worry he never even considered this would happen. When I told my husband this, he said “Clearly you don’t appreciate all that goes into a good worry.” He’s right, I am not the worrying type.
I don’t mean to say I never worry, but for the most part I like to look on the bright side of life. I put a lot of faith into things working themselves out. Mr. Pea likes to worry about things though and asserts that in every family there should be at least one worrier. This makes sense to me, if he didn’t worry we wouldn’t be as prepared for mishaps as we are. We balance each other out in this way. When he worries needlessly over things I can calm him, when worries over more important things, like packing for a trip, I know we won’t forget important items.
When my dad goes in to try this procedure again, I hope he is less worried. He should know he has passed that concern over to his doctor. I know the doctor will be 100% on top of his game to make this right for my father. Somehow though I think he can’t help but get a good worry on.