My season of surgeries is ending successfully and happily.

I am lucky, grateful, healing, and healthier than I had any right to expect to be.

I had wonderful doctors and surgeons and nurses, and I will be forever grateful to them for their wonderful and sensitive care.

I came to understand that it was time to grow up, and I asked for help, went back into therapy, and came to understand that taking care of myself actually feels good.

The need to take care of myself is nothing to run from or hide.

I appreciate my life and want to keep at it.

All of the arteries to my heart are wide open and pumping blood; I’m exercising every day, climbing up hills,  getting lots of sleep; my prostate and bladder are happy and healthy and working well together, my energy is coming back strong.

Being open is always a double-edged sword. I fear people will get sick of me, and sometimes, I get sick of myself.

Once tagged as not being healthy, it’s easy to stay tagged.

I can tell people 100 times that I’m fine, but whenever I see people, they give me that mournful, empathic look and ask me how I’m doing.

It gives me the creeps, but I understand the good place it comes from.

I am careful as I age not to let my health define me and am determined to share the experience because it is a part of life, and sometimes life itself.

When I share the experience, I can’t expect that people won’t or shouldn’t respond. I hope people can take something from it that they can use. My goal is to make sure that everything I write has something for other people.

It’s a balancing act, I swing from one side to the other, and I ask for whatever it is I get. No complaints.

I probably do the same thing myself, at least once, when I see somebody who was sick. I’m careful not to ask other people too much about their health.

I never want that to be the only thing I discuss.

But I am fine and doing great, and it’s time for me (and you) to move on. I’ve taken some giant steps towards good health this year, and I don’t regret one of them.

I loved going to the gym today, plugging in my pods, listening to John Le Carre narrate one of his books, and going 30 to 40 minutes on my bike.

I have had to go back and see all of my surgeons to make sure everything went well. One to go – my cardiologist next Tuesday, and it will be officially over.

One of the doctors congratulated me on my attitude. “You just jump in and help us help you,” he said, “I love your attitude; so many people just want us to fix them up and be done with it.”

That was good to hear. I welcome the chance to be healthy and stay healthy; it is a precious gift.

I’ve learned that attitude is critical after surgery.

Sometimes, it feels as if my body is racing out of control, and sometimes it is. I take the long view.

When I get tired, I just shut up and lie down, and day by day, I stop being tired.

I never expect the worst, and I always imagine myself active and healthier. All of this is about keeping me healthy to live and enjoy the life I love.

Attitude is a powerful medicine in itself.  So is gratitude. It’s important to imagine how I want it to turn out. So far, a successful strategy.

Our contributions to healing, I have learned, are greatly unappreciated. We expect the doctors to do all of it, but they can’t do all of it. We are partners, they and I, we do it together.

They have to try to be right; I have to work hard.

I do have to jump in.

So thanks for listening and sharing my year of three surgeries; nothing planned on the horizon, blessedly. I am eager to watch life return to some normalcy and for me to return to my heart’s work, the Mansion and Bishop Maginn High School.

I am excellent and am closing this chapter of the Recovery Journal. I hope it was helpful.