How surreal to think
back to June, when a walk down a hospital hallway was a major effort and my
internal works were still readjusting after the surgery, which was six months ago today. Now (knock on wood), I’m
good.
Good for full-time weeks
at The Buffalo News, where I’ve been writing a lot of obituaries. Good for
bridge games five or six days a week. Good for a few beers or wines on the
weekends. Good for everything except lifting more than 10 pounds, climbing more
than two flights of stairs and staying up past 2 a.m. In some ways, it seems
like I’m better than before. For instance, no more getting up in the middle of
the night to go to the bathroom.
Sure, I’m
still taking three medications for blood pressure, which seems to be under
control, along with a statin and a baby aspirin for my stent-enhanced heart. But
as far as the doctors are concerned, I’m cancer free and the ticker’s doing OK,
at least until the next round of checkups in the spring. I wake up in the
morning and say to myself, hey, I’m here. I’m grateful. Every day really is a
blessing.
