Dear ones –

Yesterday was emotionally taxing, as well as physically draining. Not totally surprising.

Les and I got up at 4:15 a.m. (four hours earlier than usual, I’m embarrassed to say, but we are old) and readied ourselves for the trip to the hospital.

The registration and prep time seemed very much like same old, same old of prior excursions.

The surgical waiting room seemed same old, same old, too. I worked a Jumble, a Sudoku, and five crossword puzzles. Almost two and a half hours passed.

Suddenly the puzzles could no longer distract me. When the familiar fear that perhaps Les would not come out of this surgery jammed itself back into my consciousness, I grew faint and almost threw up. The physical reaction was as unexpected as it was powerful. I began pacing the floor.

Several minutes later, the doctor came out and gave us good news – although it was more difficult than he might have expected, the procedure had gone well.

I exhaled.

I spent the night on a hard chair by Les' bedside overnight and listened to the music of his breath. This afternoon we came home – he with a sore chest and I with a very relieved, but bruised heart.

Only time will tell if this newly-minted biventricular pacemaker disrupts his heart failure sufficiently for him to have a decent quality of life. We are cautiously optimistic.

But I grow ever more aware of mortality – especially his. 

Thank you for your prayers, cards, good thoughts, hugs, and other support. 

Much love, Lois