Over-selective Hearing

My dad had a follow-up appointment with his surgeon today. I’m reminded that his life is fragile too. 

Less than two years ago, he had open heart surgery. Another unexpected visit to the E.R. Quintuple bypass surgery. Five new 'pathways' were taken from other parts of his body to feed his heart the blood it needs. 

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I still remember how scared he was on the morning of his surgery. He had been in the hospital for at least three days before his scheduled surgery. July 29th, 2021. That morning, mom and I drove to the hospital early. One of my nurse friends gave us her parking pass which was a huge help. 

We found his room in the CCU. He was sitting up in the hospital bed. His eyes would shift from the wall to the ceiling. I wondered what he was thinking. 

He was terrified. Mom helped him shave and brush his teeth. When they were done, his eyes filled with tears. Mom and I did our best to stay in good spirits while we were with him, but as soon as we turned our backs, we dropped our façade and prayed for a miracle with every step toward the waiting room. 

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I dropped my parents off at the surgeon's clinic and decided to read at a cafe nearby. It's a family-owned cafe that my friends and I used to visit a lot when I was in high school. I'd never noticed they had seating before. They'd watch us like hawks until we left the building. They didn't want rowdy teenagers 'loitering' in their space. 

Fourteen years later, I feel welcome. It feels like a completely different space. A quaint European cafe.

There’s a group of Filipino titos enjoying their coffee, chatting about a guy named Danny. Part of me wants to listen but another part of me doesn't. I like testing my Tagalog comprehension skills but when it comes to a group of titos, it's probably best that I don't know what they're talking about.

An elderly Portuguese woman sits next to me. Her husband is yelling at one of the employees for getting his order wrong. 

“Everybody makes mistakes, sir. You don’t have to get so mad,” the employee says to him.

The wife doesn't do anything to calm him down. It seems like this outburst is just part of his regular behaviour. 

An old white guy is sitting beside them, trying enjoying his coffee in peace. But he was watching the old Portuguese man have a fit, too. It was funny watching him watch the other guy. He looked confused. I could tell he was trying to figure out what the Portuguese man was so upset about, but his accent was too strong.

The old white man was wearing Hokas. Man, even he has Hokas! My husband has been a Hoka convert ever since he bought his first pair last summer, and I’ve been patiently waiting for a good sale so I can grab myself a pair, too. 

Never thought I'd be so eager to buy walking shoes. They just seem so promising for relieving back and knee pain.

The Indian couple that came in the same time as me just got replaced with an Arab couple. They’re waiting for an employee to take away the previous couple's dishes. 

I love seeing and being part of this melting pot of people. But as I look at all their faces my eyes grow blurry with tears and my heart sinks in my chest. They are people's friends, moms, brothers. I was worried for the old Portuguese man. His blood pressure, his heart rate. 

I think of Pa and my dad. 

Each person here, their lives are so precious and yet so vulnerable. Do they even realize it? Do they know where they're going when they die?

I imagine the old Portuguese man’s wife weeping beside her angry husband’s casket. 

I imagine the cafe employee feeling defeated, finally able to go home to her family after being on her feet all day, having spent it dodging more angry seniors, when all she did was try to do her job well.

I imagine myself going up to the angry old man to encourage him to take care of his heart (I didn't do it by the way). 

I know I should mind my own business. My husband always calls me out on my “overselective” hearing. But I can't help it when people are loud and my superpower gives me the ability to hear every conversation around me.

Incoming call from Mom. Her voice sounds shaky and I immediately imagine the worst. I haven't answered an unexpected call from a family member for the last week. My heart sinks even further in my chest. 

Their appointment's done already? No, it's too soon. Something must be wrong. What was she going to say next? How did the appointment go? Does he need more medical attention than we thought?

“We are going... to walk to the grocery store now.”

Oh. Relief. 

I realized my shoulders were tense. My breathing was shallow. My jaw was clenching.

Everything's okay. You can breathe again.

What a rollercoaster. Anxiety, my closest, friend, is back. 

I knew drinking coffee wouldn’t be a wise idea.