Random Thoughts, Little Victories and Little Blessings

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Here are a few thoughts that have to occurred to me over couple of days.

Not that I'm complaining, but I'm feeling a little rooked. As I may have said before, I have no memory of my first week at Georgetown past my arrival in the cement mixer--I mean ambulance. But from reading Liz's blog entries and listening to the stories of those whose were there, I probably had a near-death experience. I'm a little miffed, because I DON'T REMEMBER ANY OF IT!! Elena tells me I was looking at people in the room she couldn't see. My heart function was down to 15%. I might have seen it all--the light, the tunnel, Teddy Roosevelt (well maybe). But thanks to the medications I don't remember a thing. And I don't want to get this close again for a long, long time.

Little Blessing: As previously reported, Liz was on travel this week, making it "Guys' Week". On Wednesday night, I had the pleasure of watching the Robster eat his first taco. There's a decent Mexican restaurant nearby and Robbie was feeling adventurous enough to try his first dishes from south of the border. He got the "taco, rice, and beans" plate and a virgin strawberry daiquiri. Verdict? The appetizer chips were good, the taco was "good but messy", and the beans were adequate. The rice was hands down his favorite. Afterwards we went down to the waterfront where I answered his machine-gun-paced questions. I've learned that there's no need to put a lot of effort into my answer, because the next question will be asked before I get an answer out anyway.

Little Victory: Next time you go up the stairs, notice your feet. Before going in the hospital, I ran up stairs on the balls of my feet. In fact, the balls of my feet were the only thing that touched the stairs. The first week I was home, you would have thought I was following a Sherpa up the Hillary Step on the last push to the summit of Everest. Each foot--the whole foot--firmly on the step, most of my weight on the forearm resting on the banister, stopping halfway up to catch my breath. Now I find myself back on the balls of my feet. Little victories.

Some people (including my doctor) don't understand how I could have survived with only 15% heart functionality. While it's easy to guess that, as a civil servant and a supervisor, I only use that much of my heart anyway, the real answer is a little more complicated. Actually, at the moment when my heart function was at its lowest, I had a moment of lucidity during which I made myself believe, with all my heart, that I had just decided to return all the Christmas presents and decorations to the Whos in Whoville, and my heart grew three sizes that day. That returned me to 45% functionality and the rest is history.

Still not expecting sypathy, but still having the damnedest time keeping weight on. This is like bulimia, but without the acid-etched teeth. I am absolutely looking forward to going back to a normal diet.

I'm also crafting a "baby steps" yoga program to start gently adding some tone and strength to my upper body. If anyone makes the mistake of showing any interest, I'll write it out for you. You've been warned.

Glad to say there's no medical update. Temp has been fine, I'm feeling fine if occasionally tired, so no complaints. I'll do my best to keep it that way.

Bless you all,

Tim

P.S. My brother-in-law Buster, he of the quadruple bypass, has been up and walking around for about a week. Still hasn't mowed the lawn, though (lazy bum). ;o)