Today I start a new routine, as I woke up in my own bed for the first time since open heart surgery just over two weeks ago. There are still many cobwebs in trying to reflect on this remarkable experience, and given some time all my good, bad, amazing, and ugly stories will be captured on these pages. I’ve just turned on my computer, hoping to reestablish some coordination in my fingers. Everything is at a much slower pace while I fumbled many times to get into a rhythm. It was so frustrating and exhausting that this was the furthest I could go.

The running streak stopped without any regrets or even memory, since I was heavily sedated, waking up confused as to what day it was. When they said it was Wednesday and surgery initially began on Monday, I immediately knew that I missed a day of running after 5,496 consecutive ventures. The surgery team opened my chest, prepared for hours of patching, stitching, and rerouting. They then had to delay the closing an extra day, to finish all the gruesome details. They did have me back on my feet immediately as I met a new friend that I nicknamed “Sky Walker.” “May the Force be with me,” as I began to navigate the hallways of Tampa General Hospital on its stiff rubber wheels.

I was given three tools to fight the battle for breath: an incentive spirometer, Acapella Vibratory PEP Mucus Clearance Device, and a hand-made heart-shaped pillow that appears to be a child’s stuffed toy but is actually a pain, saving, chest-support for violent coughs. So far, it has taken three days to write these three paragraphs, due to focus issues, low energy levels, and typo corrections. I try to push on, so bear with me. At the same time, I’m slowly making my way through a hard-bound book. 

Pills define my daily routine. My wife puts them all in cups labeled 8a and 8p. I simply have to make it between those two stretches of with short strolls, leg exercises, tv shows, well-wisher e-mails, personal hygiene, a shower on my new safety stool, meals, naps, restless sleep, and supplemental pain treatments. Speaking is exhausting and often leads to coughing spells from the pneumonia in my lungs. Please don’t make me laugh! I have managed to schedule some follow-up doctor appointments and speak with a customer service manager at the Tampa Westin Waterfront, the first war story I need to tell.

Continued…