As I sat by my desk at the office, surrounded by my to-dos for the day and paperwork that needed to be attended to, all my mind could do was be consumed with thoughts of the weekend when Mom was rushed to the hospital. Since it happened, my mind has refused to stop replaying the events. The doctor informed my sister Jenna and me that Mom was suffering from an acute myocardial infarction. I wanted to be mad at her for not carrying anyone along with what she was dealing with, but remembering how weak and lifeless she looked lying on the hospital bed, I couldn't bring myself to do such a thing. Why, why, mom? I remember questioning her silently as tears poured down my face while the doctor spoke. She could have died, and we would have all been clueless as to the cause of her death. "What's the way out now?" my sister's husband, Devin, asked the doctor. "Well, just like I said earlier, myocardial infarction can be treated if handled well. In your mother's case, she would need surgery
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