April 11
11 Apr
Today I celebrate three years since my heart surgery.
“I survived Open Heart Surgery” is a T-shirt that I really wish I had gotten that one time when I found them.
I thank God for these years, even as I hope and pray for many more.
The reminder of the date is important, as I remember the days of surgery recovery. I remember Karma asking me in the recovery room how I felt, and I told her “My chest hurts.” I remember nearly passing out in the floor of the CICU and the nurse who was my constant companion watching American Idol. I remember being woke up at 4 am to be weighed and nearly dying from the resulting chills. (Trust me, there are medical things about me that those fine docs and nurses have no clue about STILL…) I remember coming home and struggling up the stairs and sitting in the reclining chilling very badly. I remember the nights that I couldn’t sleep. (Lots of Yanni in the headphones didn’t even help.) I remember the red heart pillow under the seat belt and the fact that heart surgery didn’t hurt near as badly as I thought it would. I remember walking, walking, walking, and promising myself that I was going to REALLY get into awesome shape and do it for the glory of God.
Well, the idea of REALLY getting into shape hasn’t proven to be possible, but I really don’t want to waste the opportunities that I have.
I’m not returning to my gungho self of last year or even the year before, especially not right now. I have a LOT going on at work, and there’s been enough oddity about my thoracic situation to make me cautious. The docs say all is well with my heart, but everything isn’t perfect. I’m going to try to be much more strict about walking 15-20 minutes a day and see how I feel. I’m quite certain that I’m a statistical anomaly and the docs really don’t have any idea as to what happens from here, as most people with the condition I had don’t have repair surgery anywhere near this late. I suspect that some of the things I feel are just the result of a really enlarged heart and pulmonary artery.
As I enter my fourth year after the great chest cut, I ask you for your prayers. I’m 41 years old, nearly 42, and I’m baffled by a lot of things in life. I don’t have anywhere near the answers that a man my age really ought to have. But I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to continue life further than I really thought was possible. God is good. Even when I don’t get it.

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