And with this, I slip off to the dark side of the moon
Final post before the surgery and I don't have too much to say, just a bad analogy and a couple of comments. Let's start with the analogy.
Before the space shuttle program we had the Apollo program. Now I pretty much grew up with Apollo, but I realize that to later generations it's just history and history that isn't often taught. See we'd launch these complex craft on huge rockets. They'd circle the earth, or circle the moon or even land on the moon before returning for home. And then we'd have this big dramatic moment when the craft was re-entering the atmosphere. It was dramatic, because it was dangerous, but also because during this time we wouldn't have any contact with the astronauts. Then they'd break free into the atmosphere, hail Houston and everyone would cheer as we'd watch the capsule descend under three billowing white parachutes. The capsule would land, and then it would be retrieved by a waiting ship. The astronauts were then put in quarantine where they could talk to, but not touch their loved ones for a few days.
So why am I talking about the space program? Because my whole heart deal reminds me of the space program. Did I mention this would probably be a bad analogy? I see the surgery tomorrow as being that re-entry. I'll be off where nobody can communicate with me in my little coma. Everyone will hold their breath and I'll open my eyes to everyone's collective sigh of relief. But the thing is, the surgery is dangerous, but it's the necessary path home. And honestly, the dangerous period has already passed, the months I've been living with a 70% blockage in my coronary artery. This is exactly as it was with the Apollo program; by the time they entered atmosphere most of the dangerous stuff was behind them. And that's where I'll be tomorrow; with the danger behind me, doing what I need to do to come home.
With that out of the way I have a couple of observations and then I am off to get a couple hours of sleep before the morning. I figured out a while ago, that being a patient is the easy part, all I have to do is lay in bed and try to get better. The people who are going to sweat out the next 24 hours while I lie in a near-coma they're the ones that have the bad end of the deal here. And all I can say to all of you is that I'm sorry, I'll be home soon and it will all be okay.
And the last thing I have to say is that I'm not good at this. I'm not supposed to be the guy lying in the bed. I'm the one who sits at the bedsides, or paces the hallway, or does what has to be done to make it easier for others. I don't know how to lay in bed and let others worry about me. It's not what I do, it's not what I'm supposed to do, it's not what I want to do. I know I'll be okay, I just wish I didn't have to put everything through this to get there.
Slipping into the atmosphere, I'll be back here soon, I'm coming home...
Before the space shuttle program we had the Apollo program. Now I pretty much grew up with Apollo, but I realize that to later generations it's just history and history that isn't often taught. See we'd launch these complex craft on huge rockets. They'd circle the earth, or circle the moon or even land on the moon before returning for home. And then we'd have this big dramatic moment when the craft was re-entering the atmosphere. It was dramatic, because it was dangerous, but also because during this time we wouldn't have any contact with the astronauts. Then they'd break free into the atmosphere, hail Houston and everyone would cheer as we'd watch the capsule descend under three billowing white parachutes. The capsule would land, and then it would be retrieved by a waiting ship. The astronauts were then put in quarantine where they could talk to, but not touch their loved ones for a few days.
So why am I talking about the space program? Because my whole heart deal reminds me of the space program. Did I mention this would probably be a bad analogy? I see the surgery tomorrow as being that re-entry. I'll be off where nobody can communicate with me in my little coma. Everyone will hold their breath and I'll open my eyes to everyone's collective sigh of relief. But the thing is, the surgery is dangerous, but it's the necessary path home. And honestly, the dangerous period has already passed, the months I've been living with a 70% blockage in my coronary artery. This is exactly as it was with the Apollo program; by the time they entered atmosphere most of the dangerous stuff was behind them. And that's where I'll be tomorrow; with the danger behind me, doing what I need to do to come home.
With that out of the way I have a couple of observations and then I am off to get a couple hours of sleep before the morning. I figured out a while ago, that being a patient is the easy part, all I have to do is lay in bed and try to get better. The people who are going to sweat out the next 24 hours while I lie in a near-coma they're the ones that have the bad end of the deal here. And all I can say to all of you is that I'm sorry, I'll be home soon and it will all be okay.
And the last thing I have to say is that I'm not good at this. I'm not supposed to be the guy lying in the bed. I'm the one who sits at the bedsides, or paces the hallway, or does what has to be done to make it easier for others. I don't know how to lay in bed and let others worry about me. It's not what I do, it's not what I'm supposed to do, it's not what I want to do. I know I'll be okay, I just wish I didn't have to put everything through this to get there.
Slipping into the atmosphere, I'll be back here soon, I'm coming home...
posted by Jack Dragon at 9:47 PM
2 Comments:
Been thinking of you today, Jack. Hope all is well and we see you again soon.
Take it easy over the next little while and recover quickly.
So DUDE, family et al:
I have been thinking about you all morning. Part of me is completely jealous that you get to be sedated and I don't and the other part me can't stop praying for you. Figuratively speaking my knees are getting pretty damn sore. So on that note I have plenty of ideas on how to entertain yourself while recovering in the hospital and gads more went you get home. BTW I do believe I owe you at least two bottles tequila. I will be ready to drink them whenever you are. You know where to find me.
Much love and many, many blessings
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