Day: August 25, 2014

One of the many powerful things about open heart surgery is that I am forced to understand myself and my heart, and to begin making real decisions about my health and my life. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to Vermont for Cardiac Rehab Orientation, it will be my final opportunity to decide if I want to pursue this program of counseling, exercise and nutritional education.

I have to say I am more uncertain about it than ever, it has become a milestone and a crossroads in my healing, recovery, and movement back to life. I’ve spoken to four different doctors about cardiac rehab, three have told me I do not need it, one – my cardiologist – says I do. I’ve discovered this curious pattern since my surgery, almost every doctor I meet has a different opinion about many things – medications, exercise and cardiac rehab, a three month, three-times a week program for heart patients recovering from major surgery.

Ultimately, I realize, many of the most important decisions about my health are mine, and I’m coming to like that.

Today I met with the co-ordinator of my health, Karen Bruce, my nurse practitioner, and the person I have come to trust above all. She did, after all, jolt me into controlling my diabetes, and also saved my life by getting me to the hospital quickly, there is that.  She also spotted an infection in my chest wounds that was spreading and could have soon entered my bones, and been very serious.

I have seen her many times about many things, and she is direct, smart and has my complete trust and respect. She understands I am an overachiever and while she isn’t shy about telling me what to do, she also listens to me, something I see is not common among health care practitioners. My secret philosophy of health care is to always get to the nurse-practitioners and avoid men in any capacity if at all possible. Men just do not care to listen much.

My surgeon was a woman, and Karen is my primary care practitioner, I’ve lucked out mostly. I asked her about cardiac rehab, and she said “you absolutely do not need it. You are doing everything they would teach you to do in cardiac rehab, you eat well, understand nutrition, are walking miles every day, you do not need anyone to prod you to take care of yourself, mostly you have to  be reminded to ease up.”

We talked for a bit, and then Karen leaned forward and said, “look Jon there is a time for healing and a time for life. You’ve done a great job with healing, your heart sounds good and strong. Now it’s time for you to live, to get back to life.”

My healing will go on for months, even years, I know that, but i was touched by Karen’s call to life. It is time for me to get back to life, back to living. My lifestyle has changed, as it must. I did not ever eat much “crappy food” as Karen calls it, now I don’t eat any, and exercise is not a chore but a precious and valued part of my life. I feel very good when I do it, it is helping me heal every day, I am stronger all the time. What a gift as I begin to get old, my heart is tickled when I move around. Maria and I often walk together, I love to walk alone, my time on my stationary bike listening to music is a calming meditation for me.

I will go to my orientation tomorrow, I will think about cardiac rehab, I am inclined to go several times to make sure there is nothing there that I need to learn and know. But today was a turning point to me, the medical person I most trust was clear, and spoke to my strengthening pre-owned heart. There is a time for healing, and a time for life, and I am ready for life.

If people think the carriage horses of New York have it rough, they ought to spend a day with Red. He works in extreme heat, for long hours, surrounded by flies, knee-deep in manure, challenged by sheep and harassed by curious donkeys. He doesn’t get one day of vacation either. This morning, he tried to get Deb and Ma out of the stall in the barn – they weren’t having it – while Fanny came along to sniff his butt. He ignored Fanny, went into the stall and pushed the ladies out from behind.

Of all the statuary in the cemetery where we walk, I think I love this one the most, I call it the embrace of life.It is the child reaching out to the mother for understanding and love.

Our mothers hear us or they do not, they fight for us or they do not, they protect us or they do not, they set the templates for the emotions of our lives.  We all experience fear and disappointment, we will lose our dogs and cats, our mothers and fathers, our brothers and sisters, we may fall ill or see our friends fall before us, we sigh at the struggles and sorrows of the world. We may take a walk one day and find ourselves in a hospital, fighting for life. This is not the end of life, not a lament, not the bad hand we are dealt,  it is life itself, the beginning of understanding and acceptance.

We are never alone in pain, loss or death, it is the universal experience, one thing we share with every living thing on the earth, the thing that makes us one. Death and loss is not a surprise, it is our nature, fate and destiny. It is what it means to be a human being. I will not speak poorly of the the life that happens to me, or of my life, my life is not a struggle. Every day is a gift for me to make of what I will.

Of all of the species in the world, we are the only one who understand the meaning of death, who know that we will die.  What will we make of this wondrous and terrifying understanding? Will be surprised by death and struggle every time we face it, rage against it, or acknowledge both as being as natural as the wind and the sun. The Quakers teach us to celebrate life, and rejoice in every part of it, it is all a gift. One chapter is as beautiful as another, if we are open to it. When I woke up from my surgery, I saw an angel standing in front of me, the light behind her was blinding, she was a beautiful silhouette, like my statue in the cemetery.

She called me to embrace life, to get up and walk, to meet my face and throw my arms around it, and bless me for being a human on the path. She wrapped me in light, and put a cloud under my tired feet so I could walk, and she leaned forward and touched my heart with the forefinger of her right hand, and called it to life.

And this is our choice, to move past our mothers and our fathers. To create our own expectations for our lives.  To celebrate life rather than simply mourn death and loss, to seek the light after the dark, and meaning beyond the expectations of the world for us. Every day, we can affirm our own existence, find our strength, and move forward into a place of love and purpose. Our choice, every day. That is what I see in this statue, I call it the embrace of life.

I suggested the Dahlia garden two years ago, and as things turned, Maria has had to do almost all of the digging and weeding. I do the watering. I am astonished by the spiritual depth and energy of this garden, how inspiring and comforting and healing it has been for me, for us. I was not open to the power of gardening before, just as I had not felt the power of photography for much of my life. My Dahlia garden  has opened me up, it is an enchanting place. This morning, I was out with my camera at sunrise, and a new Dahlia – I had not seen it before – was heralding the light and beauty and hope in the world. The news is what you make of it.