Recovery Journal photo and design from Maria, who is having a blast with them.)

(Note: I was thrilled this morning to check my posts and e-mail and find messages from almost a score of people saying that they are going to get tested for sleep apnea because of my journal. Like me, they didn’t take it seriously or thought it was about snoring, even though they have had trouble sleeping for years. I was happy to hear this; this is why I write this journal (also because I love to write); I’m learning a lot and will pass it along. Take it or leave it, of course, but no harm can come from a sleep apnea test, and it might yield great good for your heart and overall health.  My mask is coming this afternoon. Thanks for thanking me.)

The Therapy Dog – she had to sleep downstairs last night – came back with a vengeance this morning, shoving Bud out of my lap with her big nose and showering me with kisses. She did her job; she got me smiling and laughing and brightened the day.

We were afraid she’d jump on the bed and tear my stitches, so she was banned from downstairs. She was not happy.

She made up for it this morning; she is glued to me. I like it. It’s healthy to experience what other people experience with Zinnia, she has the power to bring the light wherever she goes, and smiles follow in her wake.

I had an excellent first day, better than I expected, better than was predicted. When I got home from the hospital, I took two Ibuprofen pills for a headache.

(Bud and Zinnia team-up.Dogs are essential to my recovery)

The operation took twice as long as expected, and we were gone for seven hours. Initially, the surgery estimate was 15 minutes with one hour for recovery.

I’ll see the surgeon on Monday, she wants to check the stitches, and I’ll know more. Maria has permission to come into the lobby to talk to the nurse directly since she doesn’t pay much attention to me.

I declined the narcotic painkillers prescribed for me and have not taken a single pain pill. The pain is very mild and very endurable, to my surprise. I slept well last night; the wound didn’t keep me up at all.

Maria reminds me that I took only a few Extra Strength Tylenol after my open-heart surgery. The nurses said I had a high threshold for pain.

This morning, back to the routine, which I am taking seriously:

Ice for 20 minutes out of every daylight hour, and the foot elevated above the heart for the rest of the hour. Doesn’t slow my reading.

I do feel some occasional throbbing, but it doesn’t last long. I’m not playing hero; the wound is not that painful.

No standing up ever without the surgical boot, which makes it impossible for me to walk much. No showers for two weeks; we are scrambling to get sponges and wipes, etc.

I’m sore from so much sitting down; I will try and getting up and walking a few minutes each hour.

I was briefly dizzy and confused yesterday, but not for more than a half-hour after the one-hour operation. As promised, I felt nothing and remember nothing. The anesthesia was administered with an IV into my right arm.

Maria is having a good time changing all the furniture in the house – she’s s staying close by me for 48 straight hours and is getting her art jollies off by working on these Recovery Journal logos, which I love.

She’s back at work now. I am surprised she lasted this long. But she checks in every few minutes.

I got a new book in the mail today, Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr, and I’m adding it to my stack of books. I finished Colson Whitehead’s great book Harlem Shuffle yesterday while waiting for the operation.

We are in good shape and have everything we need, food and all. After lunch, the sleep apnea techs will show up to offer me a choice of several masks. I can’t wait to see how this turns out.

I’m lobbying Maria for pizza tonight to celebrate the surgery, which we believe has been successful.

I’m glad to be able to write at least once a day. I’ve taken four or five photos with the Leica, I haven’t looked at them yet, and Maria picked a bouquet for me from my Zinnia garden. I can look straight at it.