About a month ago, I spent a typical Friday evening folding towels and grousing about the landfill of laundry that had piled up over the week. To hoist myself out of my housework funk, I made my husband and daughter our favorite homemade meatballs and slow-cooked tomato sauce. With my nerves settled, tummy full and laundry finished, we all piled into my bed propped up on pillows to watch an old movie.

Around 1 a.m., my husband turned off the lamp and the three of us snuggled down into feather pillows to sleep. Here’s where my memory ends and the story had to be told to me.

My husband heard something fall out of the bed which he assumed was our schnauzer. He then heard my daughter scream, “Mom! Mom! Are you alright?!” Quickly, he turned on the light, ran around to my side of the bed, untangled my feet from the sheet and then saw that my eyes were wide open, but I was not conscious and not breathing.

He checked my throat for obstructions, tilted my head, blew a breath in for me, and immediately began chest compressions. He then told my beautiful, bright 12-year-old daughter to call 911.

Within minutes, a policeman arrived and took over the CPR, and the ambulance arrived a few minutes later. EMTs shocked my heart back to life and continued the chest compressions. At the Natchez Regional Emergency Room, Dr. Edward O’Brien took over, intubated me and I was put on life support. My internist, Dr. Lee England and cardiologist Dr. Brad LeMay diagnosed and worked on me until I was stable, telling my family that the next 48 hours would be crucial.

They did not know if I would live and if I lived how much brain function I’d have.

I had suffered “sudden cardiac death” due to ventricular fibulation. At some point in my life, a virus invaded and weakened my heart muscle causing the electrical impulses to go haywire.

My heart stopped pumping and merely quivered. No, I had never suffered any real warning signs except an occasional fluttering in my chest.

The next thing I remember is the sensation of the breathing tube being pulled out of my throat and the feeling of collective relief in the ICU. I remember a nurse telling me the restraints were necessary.

Then I remember opening my eyes again and seeing what seemed like all of my friends and family smiling at me. I am told that before the tube came out, I was writing notes on a pad, but I have no memory of that. My husband said he was extremely relieved that my spelling was correct (sheer luck, I assure you for I am careless speller completely dependent upon spell check).

You know, for the last 20 years, the constant comment about our medical community in Adams County has been, “If you get seriously ill, you better get out of Natchez as soon as you can!”

I believed it. Now I dispute it — vehemently. If not for the excellent care of our police department, EMTs, Natchez Regional Emergency Room doctors and nurses, ICU nurses and aides, and local doctors Edward O’Brien, Brad LeMay and Lee England, I would most certainly not be sitting in my living room typing on my laptop right now.

This week I will go to Baptist Hospital in Jackson to have a pacemaker/defibrillator implant. I’d have it at right here in Natchez if I could.

This experience has restored my faith in many things, not the least of which is our local medical community.

I thank everyone with all of my flawed but grateful heart.

 

Courtney Taylor is a Natchez resident.