Did I Tell You About My Operation?

 or 

For A Sip Of Your Beer You Can Look At My Scar

Behold! A Monday I never expected! Never, never, never expected to see!!! A small glass of orange juice seems less morning ritual than that first cup of coffee but I’m loving it these early mornings. “Most Pulp” is my favorite.

Three times now my life has been salvaged by modern medicine. Dr. Carmel Roberts was my pediatrician as a child, practicing in his clinic on N. Cove Boulevard at E 3rd Court, in that white brick building behind the Panama City Woman's Club. When I was two years old he took my tonsils out. My memories of that include a bright white room, lying on a table with bright white lights shining in my face, surrounded by people in bright white clothes. Someone put a cloth over my face and my mind started going round and round, a loud, loud, louder wowowowowowo sound overwhelming my consciousness. I woke up in bed with my parents by my side, throat sore. My father was holding a delicious looking vanilla ice cream cone. I reached for it and he held it so I could take a lick. One lick made me instantly sick. My mother finished the ice cream cone which I still wanted in spite of it having made me nauseous.

Christmas vacation 1947 started out with a bang! On a Saturday we had our annual Christmas Tree Hunt and I got to drive, my father taught me at age twelve. Sunday we were headed to Pensacola for a pre-Christmas one-day-visit. For some reason my stomach hurt too fiercely to travel, so I stayed with my aunt Marguerite at her home on E. Caroline Boulevard. Abdomen grew more painful and by the time my family arrived home that evening I was miserable. We went home and my father called his high school chum Dr. Powell Adams. Dr. Powell came to the house, checked my abdomen, picked me up, carried me to his car (yes, I remember, a 1947 Chevrolet club coupe), and took me to the hospital. Adams Hospital was between Luverne and Magnolia at 5th Street. The next day someone put a cone over my face, same spinning brain and loud loud louder wowowowowo and Dr. Adams took out my appendix. It was gangrenous, so I was given massive doses of penicillin. I was told that I was one of the first uses of penicillin in Panama City and that it saved my life. Christmas was closing in and I had to stay in the hospital a week, over Christmas. My parents brought a little bubble light Christmas tree about 30 inches tall and set it up on a table in my room, first such marvel I had ever seen. Bubba's bubble-light tree was in the family for many, many years until it became more pitiful than any Christmas tree Charlie Brown in Peanuts ever tried to save and love. Cousins, aunts and family spent lots of time visiting me. Leaving hospital I returned to school on time, but had to wear a wide girdle-like strap round my waist for two weeks, no sports, and a huge scar down my abdomen. Common decency doesn’t allow showing that scar, but it’s still there.

My third salvaging by modern medical science is the most amazing. Months of worsening angina put me in BayMed for tests that yielded a grim prognosis. Quick action by friends scheduled me into Cleveland Clinic and I had surgery two weeks ago this morning, with double CABG, aortic valve replacement and mitral valve fix. Dr. Joseph Sabik and his all star team. I didn't know a thing until the waking up, when I remember fighting kicking, pushing gagging because I felt I was drowning, suffocating. It was horrible but evidently I’m still a fighter. Haven't confessed that before except to Linda. Two nights in ICU, to private room, back to ICU briefly, back to private room, seven days hospital. Through it all I was overwhelmed by lovingkindness of friends and family and encouragement from home by email and people reading my journal! Before wheeling me to the OR the nurse asked, “Do you want to see the hospital chaplain before your surgery?” I said, “No, my priest is here.” She said, “Aren’t you from Florida?” I said, “Yes.” She said, “Your priest came all the way up here?” Yes, he was there. This third saving brought me within weeks or days, very close! I even took my bottle of Nitrostat into the OR with me! And this time the scar is a doozy. A Genuine Doozy. For a sip of your beer i'll let you look at my scar. Or you can paint my fence.

Life Is Good. Saturday lunch: small steak, deck-of-card size, medium rare. Missing: glass red wine, but Life Is Good and April is coming soon. Sunday breakfast: dozen oysters, stirred in the pan in their own liquor, spooned onto crispy 40 calorie whole wheat toast.

Life is an adventure. My life is an adventure in happiness and love. Sunday morning Linda and I walked down Calhoun Avenue to the Bay and I sat on my log under my father's cedar tree. Later I walked all around my yard alone. I find it incredible to feel so good after surgery so invasive. Life Is Good.

Life Is Good. Very Good!! Very Good Indeed. Thank you, God.

Tom+

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