Reflections On My Bypass

These days I've received many wonderful cards, phone calls and visits from wonderful people. I thank them for asking me how I'm doing. The truth is, I'm somewhat hard pressed to lay the entire truth upon them about what it means to recover from open-heart surgery. . . at least for me. 

The truth be told, these days I feel like a little boy running to his mommy, yelling, "Mommy, Mommy, come. Me pooh, pooh!" 

When they crack open your chest, remove your heart and start sewing new things in there, they often neglect to tell you about the healing process, the fact that the plumbing is all screwed up, the digestion is confused and the appetite goes flying off on a vacation to the Caribbean. So, now, despite those tiny non-cholesterol breakfasts of Cheerios, those five helpings of fruit and vegetables and the eschewing of most meat and dairy products (would you believe "Silk" instead of milk?), me still runs to Mommy crying, "Come, come, me pooh, pooh!" 

This morning I told it all to the cardiologist. He benignly smiled and said, "Of course. Very normal, very normal." I tried to smile back, but he continued, "You can drive your car now and it's time to begin physical rehab." 

So I lovingly smiled back at my benefactor, bowed my head in deep humility, reached out my enfeebled hand and said, "Thank you!" All this despite the fact that I am now down to a mere 180 pounds--from a once magnificent, cholesterol-loving 215! I sent a telegram to the Caribbean, begging my appetite to return. No reply yet, but I may have the wrong address. 

Yet, you see, I'm ON THE ROAD TO RECOVERY! And should walk the paths of this weary world for a few more years, especially when life becomes worth living again, I begin sleeping through the night, I stop having to pee every hour, my chest bone doesn't feel like I've been in a boxing match, the scar down the middle of my chest begins to look like a memory of the war I once was in and weary old appetite returns. 

Meanwhile, if you're still interested, I'm open to a meal out. I've heard that my local Denny's usually prepares a pot of oatmeal once a week, keeping it warm and moist for all those hearty, heartfelt, heart patients who come into their establishment to ask, "Do you have egg-beaters too?"