I possess an unusually stiff upper lip for someone whose ancestors abandoned the British isles in the eighteenth century. I utterly fail to “Keep Calm and Carry On” in the face of a crisis, but my frenetic panic rarely leads to tears. My body shakes while I bark orders in a tragicomic fashion worthy of the Britcom Dad’s Army.
Thus after watching his health decline for many weeks, while an endless series of tests failed to identify the problem, I marched my husband from his internists’ office to the emergency room where after 36 hours of head scratching, the health professionals confirmed what the internist and I had suspected but seemed incredibly difficult to prove. He had endocarditis – an infection of the bovine aortic valve that replaced his leaking bicuspid valve three years ago.
I started this blog as he recovered from that surgery. I stopped writing while I sat for seven days at his side in the hospital and his first frightening weeks at home. Post-modern professionals hear frequent calls to “live in the moment.” When something like this happens, you realize the supreme luxury of doing anything else. When uncertain the future exists, you focus on the present – fast. As autumn approaches, raise a cuppa’ to the treat of looking ahead.