Today, I get to celebrate my first birthday. Yes, unlike most people, I now have two birthdays. One is to celebrate when I first came into this world. The second is celebrate when I was given a second life.
Exactly one year ago I went under the knife and had major heart surgery. Not to be overly dramatic, but I was incredibly lucky to have made it to the hospital when I did. Ninety-five percent blockages in all three major arteries leading to the heart. When that’s the situation, were I to have had a heart attack, I probably would have been dead before I hit the ground.
Luckily, I was having somewhat pedestrian symptoms that were getting worse every day. A friend insisted I see a cardiologist right away, I did, and the cardiologist never let me go home — admitted me to the hospital immediately.
On Oct 1, 2009, they cut me open, patched me up, and on Oct. 2, 2009, this is what I looked like:
Serious stoner eyes from lots of top-shelf narcotics floating through my system. Not my best picture by any stretch, but I look at it frequently to remind myself how lucky I am to be alive. Yes, I’m feeling fine now; thank you for asking. In fact, I feel like a one-year-old — in all of the good ways (no, I do not wear a diaper, but I still have a thing for breasts).