The dirty not-so-little secret about a health crisis is that it’s not finite and the healing, for the person involved and those who care about him/her, takes a very long time. Erin Levzow learned it also takes a ton of support.
I’ve always felt fortunate in life and grateful for my family and fulfilling career.
On October 9, 2022, our lives changed forever when my husband and I were heading upstairs to tuck our three kids into bed. He suffered a cardiac event and fell over the staircase, a 12-foot drop. In the moment’s chaos, I screamed, called 911, yelled for the children to go to the neighbors (my daughters had witnessed his fall), and urgently conveyed to the 911 operator that he wasn’t breathing. There was no way to move him, and what followed was a series of turbulent days.
At the hospital, we were told that he had endured 16 broken bones, a traumatic brain injury, and went into cardiac arrest four times in the ER (meaning he died). The medical team even prepared me to say goodbye.
I said my farewells, and just as the doctor was about to declare his time of death, he miraculously moved his hand.
I was initially told he wouldn’t survive the evening. Further down the line, he faced numerous obstacles, including life support, a paralyzed coma due to lung failure, a rare infectious disease not seen in the hospital for 25 years, uncertainty about whether he would remember us upon waking up, and various medical procedures, including a tracheostomy, stomach tube insertion, and brain surgery. It was a whirlwind.