The following is all jumbled up
in space and in time
like me.

I sit here in this empty midnight
waiting room. Cold clean air sifts
down through the heartaches and tears
that inhabit these walls. The best in the
world they say. The best surgeon they say.
These things latch onto the fear. They
pull at it, but the fear is stronger.
Open Heart Surgery. Even for me,
a man who fears so few things, these
three words whip my psyche like a slave.
The bright lights
blind me. The sterile walls surround me.
The catheter travels up and through my artery.
The artery is completely blocked.
Plaque hardens in the valve. Too
close, too dangerous for a stint
or the balloon procedure.
OPEN-HEART SURGERY
is your only chance.
I stare up at the lights .
They flash with confusion.
Small white flakes fall from
the porous ceiling tiles as I lie in blank glare.
Beyond these thin curtains,
they laugh, make plans for their weekends.
I think of suicide . I am selfish.
The old lady in a blue robe
walks around the waiting room
and down the hall, staring out the window.
Does she find hope in her glare, her stare,
her gray hair, red lipstick?
She walks out the glass doors with wooden
frames and gold-gilded handles.
I want to say hi. But I am silent.
People walk by, give fake smiles.

I tend to hold back information I put on my blog for fear that it may upset someone. I’ve held back pictures, oh the pictures I’ve wanted to post.

But now I just wanted to let you know that I had a heart attack on Saturday. I suffered through it for 15 16 hours at least, maybe more. My wife came home from work and drove me to the hospital. (I told her it was merely indigestion.) I would not go in however once we got there, thinking of the last time I went. They poked and prodded me all night and finally said that nothing was wrong, so I didn’t want to go. Instead I went home and lay down on the couch and continued to have a heart attack all night, telling myself it was indigestion and that it would all be over soon.

I went to the local physician yesterday, had an EKG. I go in tomorrow for the catheter and stint. I am still in somewhat of a state of denial. I am only 35. What does this say about the way I’ve treated my body?

The trigger was when I over exerted myself Saturday afternoon. I live a sedentary lifestyle and should not have been chopping through thick vines and brush with a hand saw and onlt my bare hands. I never forget who I once was. The reason I cut through that stuff like it wasn’t even there in fraction of the time it should have taken is the same reason, even if I haven’t drank in over a year, that I will match shot for shot, beer for beer, with anyone from the "old gang." (Most of the old gang is in prison by the way). It’s who I once was. But, clearly, those days are gone now. I can’t walk ten feet without having to lie down for an hour. I am so tired.

Soft Spring Afternoon

soft spring afternoon---
bees hover above clover
the trees are lazy

like me.