It appears I won’t be getting The Phone Call. The one in which they tell me this whole thing with my heart is just a terrible mistake. That I’m fine, don’t need surgery. So I need a new fantasy, a new version of denial to keep me calm. Sane.
This has been a week of Murphy’s Law. Got the car inspected and on the way to get it done, the windshield cracked. Not so badly the car is unusable, but there’s no time to get it fixed. It also needs tires and that has to be taken care of immediately. Yesterday, my computer — the desktop which is Data Central — began displaying symptoms of malware and/or virus infestation, including (my favorite), The Blue Screen of Death. So between arranging to get the tires replaced (a safety issue), have the computer fixed — the windshield will have to wait — and Garry’s head cold with which I am also coming down, might you think it means a delayed surgery?
NO. The show must go on! Unless I get a heavy cough and or a fever. It seem coughing after heart surgery can be painful. So the stuffy, drippy nose, laryngitis, headache and dicey stomach are just minor details. Like a good trooper, I shall keep marching forward. What’s next? At least the snow has — so far — missed us.
I’m not a happy camper. I’m hanging onto sanity by believing, against all logic, that this surgery isn’t going to be all that bad. My other doctor looking at me as if he was seeing me for the last time, all teary-eyed, didn’t help. But I — nonetheless — persevere.
I really don’t know how long I’ll be out of action. I’ll be in the hospital about a week, but they’ll kick me out as soon as they are reasonably sure I can manage on my own. I have a house with 12 steps and need to be able to climb them.
Hospitals toss you out as fast as possible . Despite a popular rumor it’s because insurance companies won’t pay for longer stays, that’s not the reason. They throw you out because of germs. Infection. It’s so prevalent in virtually every hospital everywhere, they try to get you out before you catch something worse than what you came in with. Thus they really do send you home the moment they think you are minimally functional. Which is usually rather sooner than seems reasonable, but the infection issue is a big deal. and it has gotten worse over the years. Me, I’d always rather be home, no matter how horrible I feel so it works for me.
This could be a long road to recovery. I’m not patient with my body. I get angry with it for failing me. Again. It seems to me I’ve been sick, recovering, dying, in the hospital or just out of the hospital constantly for the past 12 years. Body parts disappear, new scars join myriad older ones. I no longer remember which surgery goes with what scar. There are so many.
This particular disaster blindsided me. I don’t understand. No one has been able to offer me an explanation that makes sense. This kind of heart problem typically develops over time. It doesn’t appear out of the blue. But apparently that’s exactly what happened. My EKG from a couple of years ago is fine. Normal. No problems. Now, I’m going in for major surgery to repair severe cardiomyopathy and a dysfunctional mitral valve. I guess it doesn’t have to make sense.
I have long since given up railing against fate. It doesn’t make me feel better. It doesn’t make problems go away. Despite that, I feel I’m entitled to a good old-fashioned rant. I want to rail against the unfairness of it. I’m angry and have no one, nothing to be angry at.
Lacking an àpropos target, I’m doing what I do. Writing. Throwing my anger into cyberspace to be absorbed by the vastness of the electronic universe. The echoes of my unanswered fury vibrate in the ether for all eternity.
And this will have to be enough.