I saw Dr. Daraban, my cardiologist yesterday, it is always a pleasure to talk with her. She listens to me and takes my problems seriously. Since taking some new medication resulting from one of my surgeries, I have felt some drowsiness.

We went through the medications I’m on, and she eliminated two of them and replaced them with one. She guessed what the culprit was, and she was correct.

It was a blood thinner.

I stopped taking it, and the drowsiness went away. I always feel good when I see her; our visit was short and productive. Just go and live, she seems to be saying.

She congratulated me on my exercise program, and my heart sounded fine. I don’t need to see her for three months.

Our meeting ended the time frame I like to call the surgeries’ year. I had more surgeries this year than in all the previous years of my life.

No more are scheduled or in sight. I’m hoping 2021 will be the year of no surgeries, and I’m working hard to make that happen.

I have two more weeks of cardiac rehab, and on other days I go to my gym, about a 15-20 minute ride from the farmhouse. I have my favorite treadmill and my favorite bike.

There are usually some kids working out with weights, but they are far from me. When they walk by me, they look right through me; older people say this is common.

I’m closer to my heart than I was. I think my heart is making me gentler. A heart that gets plenty of blood is kinder than a heart that doesn’t. I’m taking care of my heart.

Care is something other than cure.  Cure means a change, but care is empathy compassion.  My heart is my brother or sister, human, mortal, vulnerable, just like me.

We are often not able to cure, but we can always care. To care is to be human.

After these surgeries, I understand my heart in a new way, and I like to think my heart understands me. It’s just not your time; he keeps whispering to me, beating bravely.

Just go and live.