Note: The following was originally a post on my home page near midnight Oct. 29, hours before my operation.
This is it. Tomorrow I embark on a heart-stopping adventure, when I check into the hospital for open-heart surgery. It promises to be a wild personal experience, and I'm already looking at life from a different angle. Just running the dishwasher as my fiancée and I left for Denver today carried a heaviness, because it occurred to me that when I return and unload those dishes, my existence will feel very different. The dishes will be the same from when I left, where I left them, but I will not be the same, and my life will be picking up in a much different spot. It's crazy to think what can happen in the span of a dish cycle. Some readers may have noticed that I have not been updating this website much lately, and I'm sure you can understand why. There have been so many preparations to make. In a way, everything feels like "the last," including the fine meal I shared tonight with my family, but I know (hope) it won't be the last. But if feels that way. There is certainly a chapter closing. A type of innocence is over. In some regards it's like a living funeral, for I've now watched my fiancée, Mom and Dad cry over me because of their worry. They contain it as best they can, but we are all struggling to stay positive and strong for each other. As for me, writing these notes is an important way to process things and rest my soul for the challenge ahead. Though I haven't been posting here, I have been journaling throughout all this, and you readers may look forward to the fruits of the experience. Stay tuned! Thanks for checking in.