Matters of the Heart

Spouse and I met with a cardiac surgeon the day before yesterday. We came out of a two-hour meeting with Spouse set for a double, possibly triple, bypass on December 26. We came home with a bag of supplies he can learn to use now along with a notebook of all the relevant info as well as various numbers to call with questions. It made me wonder about a similar appointment in which someone is told they have cancer. I'm assuming that one would not leave that meeting knowing exactly what is coming. While I have no idea how the bypass will go, there is a closure to the "data collection" phase. We assembled the information and suggestions and made a decision. 

I am now trying to convince myself that I can get Spouse, and myself, through all this. I am making lists, some mental and others on paper. I have started freezing meals; I made more spaghetti than usual last night, and now have two meals in the freezer. We typically get take-out on Fridays; tomorrow, I will order an extra entree or two to pop into the freezer. I expressed concern to the kids that Spouse might have a hard time getting into and out of the back seat of my Honda Element. It looks as if we will temporarily trade Spouse's pick-up for a Mazda our younger son does not use that often. Since said son and daughter-in-law are slowly moving things into their new house, the pick-up will be useful. We can evaluate the Element and the Mazda and see which is better for Spouse. He'll be riding in the back seat for a while, to avoid what would happen should an airbag hit him in the chest. 

I went to the pain management clinic yesterday. They did some injections in my lower back and sent me home with a log in which I report my pain level over two days. Sad to say, I haven't really noticed a decrease in pain. I go back in two weeks for another such test. If nothing they try helps, I shall move on to other possibilities. My brother told me I was handling this much more calmly than he expected. I told him that I have pain. I at least know what it's from. I also know some things I can do to help it hurt less or at least not hurt more. I try not to sleep on my back, for example. That makes the pain much more severe to the point that I cannot walk without using some form of help. No help? Hello, floor! Whatever calm there is comes from knowing that there's nothing I can do on my own to make things better. I also know that I did not to whatever caused this. My back did not start hurting because I asked someone to hold my beer. 

We are not putting up the porch Christmas lights this year. I normally give friends what I call "breakfast in a bag," bags with a loaf of homemade bread, small jars of jam, small (single-pot) bags of coffee, and something else made by me. One year, that was granola; last year, cookies. I don't have what it takes to do all that this year. For about 24 hours, I thought I would just do cookies this year. Honestly, I don't think I can handle that either. We will send out fewer Christmas cards, and I doubt there will be the newsy recap of the year. 2024 has been too rough a year here. The letter would likely report that seeing April's total solar eclipse with dear friends was the high point of the year, while the rest of the year in comparison sucked. Not the sort of letter I would enjoy getting from someone.