Three Weeks Broken

Here ’s a fun fact that I just recently learned. When they (the people who make up such things, almost certainly with a clipboard in hand) determine survival rates for people who survive procedures such as open heart surgery, they don’t just count those who made it off the table and back to their roo ms. For some major categories, they actually measure the rate of survival for thirty days, beginning with the surgery and ending with the cake decorated with“ONE MONTH DEATH-FREE, WOO!” in heart-healthy icing on top.So this is perhaps a bit premature. Watch for a posthumous“edited to add: Oops, never mind, yikes…” But for now, tonight, three weeks and a couple of days after I voluntarily allowed someone to take a little buzzy saw to my sternum and open me up like a pi ñata, I’m going to risk the jinx.I ’m still alive.But Jesus Howard Christ, do I still hurt.What did you do for Valentine ’s Day? Something nice? Something boozy? Something resentful and Netflix-y?I showed up at a fancy hospital with a cute but gigantic heart logo on the outside of the building and a serious commitment to branding (the restaurant is the Heart Rock Cafe, I kid you not) and had me some heart surgery.As it turned out, I got the deluxe package, the quadruple bypass. (Is there a quintuple version? Did I get ripped off?) This sounds both a little badass and vaguely awful, like something you get if you are in an emergency situation. Or, you know, if you are extremely elderly.But the tru...
Source: Schuyler's Monster: The Blog - Category: Disability Authors: Source Type: blogs