Today marks four weeks post-op. Seems like yesterday. Honestly, sometimes it seems more like a dream that has happened to somebody else.
Then I wake up knowing full well the 6-inch thoracotomy incision dividing the major latissimus dorsi muscle of my chest wall is all mine. The cut starts on my back under the right shoulder blade, heads southeast like a half moon and curls toward my chest, stopping just short of my armpit where the bottom of my bra sits.
Thoracotomies are thought to be one of the most difficult surgical incisions to deal with post-operatively. They say the pain is universal and intense. They are correct.
There was a good reason my surgeon used this approach and not some mini-version of this or that. Too much scar tissue to plow through from a previous heart surgery via sternotomy. Anyway, it worked, and I am grateful.
Everything’s healing nicely, at least on the outside. Inside, the sensory nerves in my chest wall are slowly waking up. Oddly enough, the pain level in these nerves between my ribs changes like the weather. Sometimes it’s dull and constant. Other days it’s sharp and aching, like a gnawing in my rib cage and upper gut.
Not sure I’ve ever experienced nerve pain, per se, but I can say for sure that I don’t much like it.
Enough about that. This too shall pass. Could be worse.
With that, I have adopted a new motto — words to live by — after experiencing a second open-heart surgery in my not-quite six decades on this planet. Indeed, I am positively thrilled to be sitting upright typing these words before sunrise. Heck, I might even get a tattoo to celebrate my new attitude. I said might.
So, here it is: “Must be present to win.”*
“Present,” as in the synonym for a gift. Defined, as in all of those life-coach cliches you’ve no doubt heard, probably said and likely dismissed, such as:
-Savor every moment.
-Live like you’re dying.
-Stop and smell the roses.
-Life is short. Smile while you still have teeth. (That one’s for my great-nephew, Andrew, nearly 9, who lost his front teeth and still loves to tell jokes.)
“Must be present to win.”
As in, put away your damn cell phone. Seriously. And I was a big — Rebecca would argue the world’s biggest — offender. Honestly, can’t that urgent emoji-filled text wait? Will the world stop spinning if you don’t respond within nanoseconds? That’s crazy talk, I know.
And another thing. Stop with the multi-tasking. We know you’re smart and can walk and chew gum and prepare an Excel spreadsheet at the same time. Good for you. We don’t care.
Quit Googling every stupid trivia question you can’t answer off the top of your pretty little head. Who gives a rat’s fandango if you don’t know everything? Right. This. Second.
Doesn’t matter. It truly doesn’t.
What did we do before the internet and Google when we didn’t know something? (Please do not look that up.) I’ll tell you what we did. We discussed things like civilized humans with lively conversation, banter and just plain shooting the breeze. Or, frankly, we just didn’t know. Period. End of story. And we survived.
Not knowing what year the hapless Detroit Lions last won a Super Bowl didn’t cause sleepless nights. (OK, perhaps that’s not the best example. Being a Lions fan may cause insomnia because they have never won a Super Bowl or ever played in one. Never ever. Rest easy, devoted fans.)
Here’s more unsolicited advice exactly one month post-op into the most important what-I-did-on-my-summer-vacation open-heart gig since the last time I did this on July 24, 2001? You don’t forget the date because it’s solely yours forever.
“Must be present to win.”
Pay more attention to your partner, spouse and kids during meals. Look your friends in the eye. Listen. Stop talking incessantly about yourself. Ask questions. You might learn something, and then you won’t have to Google it.
Say it one more time with feeling: “Must be present to win.”
Because if you’re living in the moment, my friends, then we all win. What a gift.
P.S. *Not available in New Jersey. (You know I couldn’t let that go, right?)
(Copyright 2018)
