My original surgery date was today. But an emergency case bumped mine to Thursday. I sure hope that patient comes through with flying colors.
Waiting a couple of extra days wasn’t that bad. Gave me time to do more stuff, like enjoy a holiday sunset with friends over Maxfield Lake in Hartland, eat yummy angel hair pasta with garlic shrimp and finally watch the popular Netflix series, “Stranger Things.” (That last one could have waited, my dear great-nephew, Michael, who recommended it. Insert scary face emoji here!)
So, on May 31 around lunch time, Dr. Steven Bolling will fix my leaky mitral valve at the University of Michigan Cardiovascular Center in Ann Arbor. He’s the skilled surgeon who has run to work every day for the past 30 years. A confident, direct, no-nonsense guy, he has performed thousands of these heart valve surgeries.
Dr. Warmth, my writer friends dubbed him. I don’t care. I’m not looking for group hugs. Quit worrying, they say. OK, you try it, I say. For me, the real issue is giving up control. Don’t have it, won’t get it and it’s hard to let others take over. But I must.
One close friend who shall remain nameless (you know who you are) told me to stop cleaning my closets and definitely not to rearrange the kitchen cupboards.
“I certainly would be disappointed if they said at your wake, ‘You know, she had the cleanest cupboards I’ve ever seen!’” she said. Point taken.
Not being a member of the “Faith community” (unless you count taking the Lord’s name in vain), this same friend finds it easier to accept bad luck, people who can’t drive and just plain idiots. She believes there are enough “good folk” among us to outweigh the bad apples, and assures me we’ll have plenty of time to look around for them after my valve job. (She’s driving.)
That said, and with all due respect, it’s time for some prayer power.
I don’t care how you do it or who you do it to … just please do it.
So, if you’re so inclined, please send me positive vibes Thursday. Some good juju. Heck, maybe even hum a few bars of the University of Michigan’s fight song, “The Victors,” no matter what school colors you wear.
Personally, with all of this heart surgery stuff, I’ve accessorized my beloved Michigan State Spartans green and white with dabs of maize and blue.
A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do …
Note to my Ohio Buckeye relatives and other anti-Wolverine fans: I realize this may be way too much to ask. Hold your noses. “Hail to the victors!”
And thank you in advance.
(Copyright 2018)
