Tomorrow, an important day in the recovery. We go back to the hospital to see my surgeon for the first time since she stopped my heart, cracked open my chest and rebuilt my artery system. Perhaps saved my life as well, and surely improved it. Dr. Adanna Akujuou shocked me when she appeared in the doorway of my hospital room, she was a vision, a dream, not what I expected. A tall, strikingly beautiful African-American women from Nigeria, trained in New York city, she had a wide smile and shoes that were the envy of many of the hospital nurses.  When I met her, she was wearing five-inch heels, she was nothing like the other surgeons, they mostly looked like homicide detectives, all men in their white shirts, crewcuts, ties and shiny shoes.

She was confident and charismatic, a vision.  I had an instant crush on her which I confessed to Maria. I told her I trusted her with my heart, she said the operation was not a big deal for her, it was the valve surgeries that were creative. Maria said she understood (she usually doesn’t.)  Meeting her, I did not again worry about the surgery.

I last saw Dr. Akujuou two days after my operation, she warned me against using my big camera or moving my arms much or lifting things for months. They kicked me out of the ICU and sent me home before I could say goodbye, so tomorrow I will thank her and, perhaps, say goodbye. If all goes well, I will be turned over to a cardiologist and not see her again.

Ironic for someone who changed my life so much. Tomorrow, she will check me out, look at an X-ray of my chest, looked at the bloodwork, ask me a lot of questions, listen to my heart. I will ask her to clear me for driving and for permission to carry my camera, again, which I will bring with me. I hope she will let me.

I hope she likes what she sees, I will tell her I am feeling good, doing well, I walked more than four miles today and am storming hills all over the county just like Teddy Roosevelt in the Spanish-American war. One friend dropped off a treadmill, another brought over a stationary bicycle for the winter, I will try both of them out. In the meantime, I am a walking fiend, and I am loving it, although it often tires me out.

I see tomorrow as an important day, the end of this phase of open heart surgery – the struggle to walk, the diagnosis, the hospital, the surgery, the recovery. I believe I am healing well, I understand it is a long progress and it will last for months, even a year or so, but I am ready for the next phase, it is time. I am  working through most of the day, I feel strong and eager to resume life. Unless I sneeze or cough, I am in little pain and am beginning to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. I still crash most afternoons and sleep the deepest sleep sometimes. It is a little bit better every day.

So back to Albany, back to the hospital. I admit to not being eager to return there. But I want to see my surgeon again, and thank her for returning my heart to me. It might be a routine thing for her, but she changed my life, and she needs to be thanked.