Working on the computer remains a daunting task. I haven’t been able to clearly focus on a single task, struggle with finger coordination, and shiver & shake from the blood thinners. My digits are often ice-like, needing to be warmed for even a proper blood oxygen reading. Most of this writing was done on my phone and transferred to this blog. I wanted to make sure to document this adventure while it was still fresh in my mind. I’d spend a few minutes on taxes, shift suddenly to baseball card organization, try to make a phone call, attempt to pen a poem, answer a text, pay a few bills, fill out another medical document, and then collapse for a nap. I did the daily Wordle, but any other of my regular card and word games took a back seat. All these once routine daily chores exhausted me, and I found myself unable to finish an entire chapter of a book or frequently confused on the plot of a TV series. They say that being heavily sedated for those two straight days of surgery had taken its toll and I needed to remain patient. Not so good of one, I’m afraid!

I returned to my role of grandfather, accompanying my wife in getting my granddaughter to the school bus and dropping off a belated birthday gift for my grandson. The bumpy car ride made me sore and the short distance seemed to stretch forever. I collapsed back in bed once we returned home, but failed to fall asleep, much like the restless effort before the 6a wake-up call. A shower, lunch, and shaky walk were next on the agenda before another boring afternoon of watching movies and attempting naps. I’ve come a long way in these first full three weeks since surgery.

Neck and back muscles ache from another restless night of trying to find a comfortable sleep position. Last night was nothing more than a series of short naps and trips to the bathroom. I often feel like there is a hole in my chest from a Howitzer blast. The surrounding skin remains sensitive and sore. There is a constant chill running through my body, but today is my last dose of blood thinners, so maybe my fingers and toes will finally begin to thaw. I continue to work the spirometer to strengthen my lungs and help warm my body. The cool Florida temperatures are not helping. I would like to sit outside in the sunshine but the air still gives me the shivers. Combine this with the existing tremors and my hands struggle with dexterity. I’m not much company for our guests that leave this afternoon.

I was buoyed by the IU basketball victory last night, after a first half performance that I can only describe as buffoonery. The team showed resilience, something that I need to get better at in fighting through this recovery. Everyone has been so supportive and I hate to let anyone down. Preliminary speculation is that my most recent EKG report no longer shows the irregularity of Afib. More frequent and longer walks, breathing exercises, a positive attitude, and a healthy diet are the keys to healing. I still feel like a Weeble-Wobble toy when I walk, unsteady on my feet. My thighs even burn as the leg muscles have obviously deteriorated from inactivity. I hate being out of shape, as my arms remain uselessly dangling at my side while raising them causes pain and stress on the repaired breast bone. I once again sit here starting at the TV screen while not really absorbing the content.

A neighbor reminded me that “the surgeon’s knife is a year long.” I can see where it will take that long to make a full recovery but will continue to do my best to make it shorter. I’ll fill you in on the surgeon’s report as to my progress after I catch you up on the trials and tribulations of I.U. basketball and “The Magic of 60.” I need a short break from the gory details of surgery, so why not focus on the equally ugly details of I.U. basketball.