Excerpt of Heartsong: Living with a Dying Heart: A Memoir

Anita Swanson Speake’s got the news that her heart was dying at age 65, but she wasn’t ready to be done with this life. Everyone is dying, fast or slow—and the need to find a way to be OK with that is as urgent for this author as it is for readers, in her memoir, Heartsong.

“A medical account that successfully examines the deeper fears readers have about death and dissatisfaction.” –Kirkus Reviews

She loved her life. But she didn’t love her scary new medical condition—or the many awful side effects of the medications her doctor promised would serve as a crutch for her heart. As she struggled with all this, Speake began to see herself as a member of the dying rather than the living. And over time, she began to ponder a new question: “Do I really want to get well?” (which I think many people go through when faced with a chronic condition).

Heartsong takes readers on an often humorous, sometimes sad journey through the best of Western medicine, complemented by a sampling of alternative and Eastern support systems—and through Speake’s evolving relationship with God—as she navigates this transition. Ultimately, with the help of her doctors, a Reiki practitioner, a Mindfulness coach, and her deep, abiding faith, Speake found renewed purpose late in a changing life—and realized God was waiting there for her all along.

We are delighted to feature this excerpt.

—

We were hiking. Walking, really. It was something my husband and I did often, but this morning was especially promising. The recent warm weather and snow melt had given us reason to hope that the mountains just might be showing off. Creek beds, dry and rocky in the summer, would now be filled with crystal clear water rushing down the canyon. Snowcapped summits near our home, if winter had worked its magic, would be sending a waterfall tumbling over the cliff.  

And so we walked with anticipation—but I, as usual, was worried.

“Here’s the deal,” I said, slightly out of breath. “What if I wake up dead tomorrow morning?”

It wasn’t an everyday question to ask my husband, but then again, I didn’t have an everyday diagnosis.

With great patience, G tried to reassure me. “You’re not going to wake up dead tomorrow morning or any other morning for that matter.”

“But I could,” I insisted. “And then you’d be upset and sad about the fact that I’d died, and you’d have to call the girls, who’d be all upset and sad as well, and everything would just be a mess. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and stay awake for as long as I can just to prove to myself that I haven’t died yet.”

My husband looked skeptical.

“It’s true!” I cried. “And then when the morning comes, and I realize I’ve made it through to another day, I give God a big shout-out.” I glanced over at him. “Now, you would probably think it would end there, but it doesn’t. This whole worrying thing starts up all over again with a brand-new day. It’s hard, G. It’s really hard.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” he said evenly, “I think you should know that I don’t worry about it all.”

I stopped walking and stared him in disbelief. “You don’t?”

He stopped too. “No, I don’t. Would you like me to tell you why?”

“Yes. Yes. I would.”

“Because the doctors have said your heart is responding to the medication. It’s getting stronger, and I think you’re going to just continue to get better.”

“Hmm . . .” I said, not convinced.

This am-I-living-or-am-I-dying had turned out to be tricky business. G believed the doctors, but these facts remained: without the meds that sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t, my heart would die. And I, of course, would go along with it.

However, on this particular morning, G’s optimism was infectious, and so for the moment I gave in. We were walking. It was springtime in the mountains, and I was still alive.

“Let’s keep going.” G placed his hand beneath my elbow and urged me onward. “We can walk and talk about your worries at the same time.

I started moving, albeit a bit reluctantly.

“Let me ask you something,” G said. “Did anyone ever tell you that you could wake up dead?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“So your mind just made this up?”

“Yes. Well, not exactly. When I worked in the emergency room, the paramedics would often tell stories. Some of them were about the early-morning runs they’d make for people who’d gone to bed and never woken up. They’d say things like, ‘Yeah, we had a lot of woke-up-dead calls this morning.’”

“Okay. Fine. So the paramedics told you stories. I just think that your medication is buying you time. Lots of time. Maybe even decades.” Again, G urged me onward. “We’re almost there. I think I hear the creek.” He sounded excited. “The water level must be really high.”

I encouraged my husband with a smile, but my thoughts took off in another direction. There were days when my coping mechanisms worked exceedingly well, but this was not one of them. My fear of dying kept darting in and out. One minute I was fine and the next minute I wasn’t.

My cardiac diagnosis had stunned me. I wasn’t ready for it; in fact, as it turned out, I wasn’t ready for much of anything associated with disease or dying. But then who is, really?

I wasn’t ready to leave G. I wasn’t ready to leave my grown children or my young grandchildren. The thought of not being here for them was heartbreaking—and believe me, I know a thing or two about broken hearts.

Decades. G thought I had decades left to live.

I was hoping to just make it another year.

 

—

Find out more about Anita on her website http://anitaswansonspeake.com/

HEARTSONG: LIVING WITH A DYING HEART: A MEMOIR

Anita Swanson Speake’s story begins with a diagnosis: idiopathic cardiomyopathy. At sixty-five, she had just found out that her heart was dying.

When she got the news, she was in her late sixties. Her girls were raised and gone. Her three decades of high-stress nursing was behind her. She was living with her hopefully last, and certainly best, husband in a big, contemporary house with lots of glass on a lake in rural Northern California. She loved her life. But she didn’t love her scary new medical condition―or the many awful side effects of the medications her doctor promised would serve as a crutch for her heart. As she struggled with all this, Speake began to see herself as a member of the dying rather than the living. And over time, she began to ponder a new question: “Do I really want to get well?”

Heartsong takes readers on an often humorous, sometimes sad journey through the best of Western medicine, complemented by a sampling of alternative and Eastern support systems―and through Speake’s evolving relationship with God―as she navigates this transition. Ultimately, with the help of her doctors, a Reiki practitioner, a Mindfulness coach, and her deep, abiding faith, Speake found renewed purpose late in a changing life―and realized God was waiting there for her all along.

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing