Anniversary…

February 10, 2015: a very significant day in my life so far. One year ago today, at 5:00 AM, I was lying on a gurney in the Mazankowski Heart Institute in Edmonton, waiting to be called to surgery. I waited…not always patiently…until after 1 PM before the call came. After a long trip, or it seemed to me, through chilly corridors, whooshing doors, and bright overhead lights, I was wheeled into a huge operating room.

An East Indian physician spoke to me with a warm smile. “We might have to do four by-passes, but we’ll try and do it with three.” I had only a few minutes to ponder what this meant.

I knew the operating room was huge because I have taken students into many ORs over the years, and this one was the largest I’ve seen. It was also freezing cold. Rather than cover me with a warm blanket while I waited for all the mechanical preparations to be made, a nurse popped a small, tiny pebble like pill under my tongue. “You’ll be fine in a minute.” Ten seconds passed…and I was waking up, gagging, as they pulled the long tube out of my throat. And so began the focus of these writing: recovery.

I was thinking about this as I wrestled the snow blower around in the alley. I’m not supposed to do things that strenuous with my arms, and I resolved to be more careful about where I take that wonderful machine next time. I took it too far into the alley, clearing a space for trashcans, and the drive wheels got stuck in the ruts. It didn’t seem like there was much snow on the ground, but I have learned that what looks like a little is probably more than I can comfortably do with my limitations. Therefore…any snow? Out comes the old blower, one of the best $1500 investments I have ever made.

Over the past year I have learned many things about living with this “new” condition. Perhaps the most important learning is that “recovery” is not a time limited process. I cannot say, “I am fully recovered.” In fact, the process of recovery will be my lifestyle from now on in life. You don’t come to the end of one year of the process and then say, “there…I am recovered. Now I can return to the way I lived before.” The condition of relative health must be maintained from now on. That means watching my diet, continuing to exercise regularly…daily, if I am able. I must avoid the kinds of strenuous activity about which I have been warned. Shoveling, for example, is a potentially fatal activity for me. In fact, it is potentially fatal for all men over 50 or so; a major cause of heart attacks: hence the snow blower.

The day before my surgery, one of the surgical team visited me. He came to give me one clear message: “when this is over, walking is your best friend.” I have only decreased my walking recently because I have included swimming in my regime.  Remember very clearly how the walking regime began. I was told, “Walk six minutes, three time daily.” It seemed so little. It was February, cold and snowy. I would get all dressed up and go out, timing a three minute walk, and then a three-minute return. I remember thinking, “The neighbours will think I have come out for a walk, but have forgotten something, so I have to go back for it. “ I began by being embarrassed. I was used to longer walks, and earlier, much longer runs. Slowly, my time and distance increased until the day I could walk for 75 minutes. Ultimately, I settled on one hour, more manageable in terms of scheduling.

And now it’s one year. I am still going, still watching and checking myself when I am tempted into activity that is dangerous for me. Two weeks ago, we had a “light snow”…at least it seemed light. I had given myself to push snow down the driveway if it wasn’t too heavy. No shoveling. Well, almost no shoveling. That day, I pushed, and pushed, and realized that as it piled up, there was more snow than I thought. I kept on until I finished the task. By then, I was sweating profusely, like I hadn’t sweated for years. I went inside and lay down. I didn’t feel really well until the next morning. That was the day I made the firm decision to use the blower whenever there was any appreciable amount of snow. Slow learner, I know. But there it is… still recovering, still dealing with my own stupidity, and the psyche that always had to sprint when turning the corner onto my home street after a two hour run. Learn…and keep living!