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Heart surgery

So.

While I was out running errands today, I got a call from my mom. She'd just had a long consult with her surgeon, and they've scheduled open heart surgery for her this coming Tuesday. They'd originally discussed a less invasive version of the procedure, but in addition to replacing a valve, her surgeon wants to perform an ablation to make sure all her heart's electrical impulses are firing in sync.

Intellectually, I know she's in good hands. She has an excellent, thorough cardiac surgeon who took the time to go over everything with her. She has six adult children, so between all of us I'm certain there will be someone with her at all times in the weeks after surgery. She's been through a lot of operations and procedures over the years, and survived them well. Her health, though not spectacular, is good enough for this surgery, and her attitude is almost unfailingly positive.

I know all that. But I'm still scared.

Open heart surgery isn't just a big deal. In medical terms, it feels like THE big deal. As Robin Williams once said about his own open heart surgery, "With heart surgery, they literally open you up, they crack the armor." It's a vivid reminder of one's own mortality.

Thing is, if Mom does nothing her doctors assure her she'll be dead within a year or two, so -- yeah, heart surgery it is.

If you've prayed for Mom or for our family, thank you. If you haven't, please consider doing so. I know Mom would appreciate it, and so would I.



This post first appeared on Confessions Of A Laundry Faerie, please read the originial post: here

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