Triumph!

Gratitude

Exactly 5 years and 10 days ago... This Dr. was at his Doctors office feeling low on energy, coughing alot, my body hurting. I was tired, having nose bleeds, dizzy spells, Walt Healy once told me he was... and like him, I had become, an S.O.B. (short of breath) Like most men, I suspect... I don't go to the Doc's unless I have to.

Dr. Stephanie examined me up and down, and even called in a colleague to concur. Yup...

"You have pneumonia Frank." they said. "Best get some antibiotics immediately and get down to the Lab for lab work and X-rays, which I promptly did. Nearly prone in the waiting room, my name called and several pics later, I was on my way home.

In a couple of days, the lab phones me, "Mr. Simon, would you be able to come in for a few more pics?" And I did. After several more shots, I asked if there was some type of problem? "Well, there seems to be a smudge on the film. Funny though, it's almost like it is moving from take to take... we're sure it's nothing to worry about, you can get dressed and go home now."

Another couple of very difficult days pass... until, while at Visions buying a digital camera, I am feeling very poorly. By that night, the night of the 27th of April 2005, I am in major distress. Sometime in the early hours of April 28th, 5 years ago... I wake in a terrific sweat, every breath excruciatingly painful, my chest constricted. I literally fall from my bed onto the floor. I roll into a ball. I am having a hard time breathing and my vision is so blurred I can't tell which way is up.

I'm having a Heart Attack!

No, that's not a Big Mac attack, but something far more sinister.

My bedroom is downstairs, Lisa is still in the house I think (I have no idea of the time) All I can think of believe it or not, is needing my housecoat off the hook next to my bed. The last thing I want, is my youngest daughter to find me after work, laying here dead... and Naked! After a great deal of effort I'm able to tear my housecoat from the wall, pull it on and slowly crawl, yes crawl into my bathroom, where I lay on the floor cheek first, cool against the tile.

I know I'm in huge trouble!

After what seems like an eternity, with the breaths coming under serious duress, one at a time... I crawl/drag myself upstairs where I bang feebly on Lisa's door. Her reaction could best be described by herself, but judging by what I remember, I am certain Dad looked like death warmed over. Pale, sweating and freezing at the same time, all I could manage was this.

"Lisa, don't panic... I think I am having a heart attack..."

Panic ensues! (J/K... she did very well under the circumstances.)

Once the paramedics arrived, and checked me over while I lay on the living room floor in only my housecoat and slippers, he asks me what it is I'm feeling and if I am on medication. I stammer out that I have major chest pains, that I can hardly breathe and I am on meds for pneumonia. His reply was,

"Well... I don't think you're having a heart attack Mr. Simon... I think your chest is just strained from coughing due to your illness, what would you like us to do? So far, you only owe us for a call-out, an ambulance ride to the hospital will cost extra..."

My mind is numb, it takes an eternity to say... "Take me to the hospital

pul-ease."

He asks if I can walk to the waiting ambulance parked on my corner. I say I will try, so with nothing but my birthday suit thinly covered, I walk down a dozen steps hunched over like the proverbial character from Notre Dame, out to the open Ambulance door. Once in, and hooked up to the sensors... I hear him say to the driver something like this...

"Holy shit Bob, hit the lights... this guy is having a heart attack!"

Vaguely hearing the siren wail, I don't remember much after that, the morphine? taking affect. I wake to a very bright white light (on the ceiling) in the Foothills H, wired to the gills, white clad bodies all around me. Eventually I'm told that I have had an "event" as it's called and they are stabilizing me.

Within days I was shaved, the nipple ring I had worn for many years, removed, laying on a stainless OR table having my chest cut open, and a (triple) bypass operation performed.

I'm told that I am fortunate to be alive.

Fortunate!

Using arteries from my chest which saved my leg being sliced, I have been given a Rolls Royce of bypasses, the surgeon tells me. Good for at least 10 years. Fuzzy headed, I do the math. Hell... I'm only fifty now!

A long painful recovery where my prime directive became, 'Look after thyself' there have been many changes in my life. I wasn't a smoker, or a heavy drinker or severely overweight. I liked veggies a lot, sex even more, riding my bicycle, walking, working out. When the cardiologist told me initially I would have to substantially change my life, I answered... "Doc, as soon as I leave here I am going to buy a carton of unfiltered smokes, pick up a couple of bottles of hard liquor, find myself an intravenous drug using prostitute and have unprotected conversation several times, and take up bungee jumping into the Grand Canyon."

I mean... change my life? To what??

To top it off, after nearly a month in the Foothills with various complications, the least of which was a lung that didn't happily wish to inflate... I have a message on my answering machine from my Dr's office, asking me to call immediately to discuss my X rays results. When I call in after the tap dance on the phone ('press 1, press 3, press 2... wait) and ask the nurse which X Ray's they wanted to discuss, the ones at the Lab a month ago or the 100 they took while I was in the Hospital. 'Hospital' she answers. No... the ones taken a month ago... turns out the 'smudge' was a clot heading to my heart. Ummm... I tell her, I've been in the Hospital for heart surgery. The line goes silent.

Several months later, while seeing my MD, I question how this got by them. Her answer... "Frank... we just missed it."

Hey... ain't life Grand!

Answer... Well... Yes it is.

It's been five years, today.

In those 5 years I worked hard to recover. I've had the help of several caring people, (you know who you are :) and my own steely determination.

I've been to Baja 3 times, even fracturing my ankle 80 kms off road riding the Giganta Mountains. I've been to Europe to ride 22 countries. I've laid my dear Mom to rest at home in Hungary after a last ride around her old hood on the back seat of my Divvie. I've hosted some of my Hungarian family visiting Canada for the very first time. I've written more stories...

I've had several relationships, my cats have died one by one and I sit here writing this on a wet cold snowy day in Calgary AB.

My two girls, Holly and Lisa, have grown into independent and fine young women, I have loved and been loved.

I have experienced and learned much.

And... I am grateful, yes... grateful for all of it.

What's the BL here? Haha... there is always a Bottom Line...

Life is short. Period. You wanna sit around wasting it? Be my guest. You're an idiot! I mean that in the nicest way... what are ya waiting for?

I know a good thing when I see, feel, touch, taste it.

I know what and who are important in my life.

I've always jumped head first into following my heart first.

I'm glad I have 'lived' my life.

Remember... to quoteth my Runes...

"More than we are doers, we are deciders. Once the decision is made, the doing comes easy."

If we're fortunate enough to hit fifty without (pick one) getting run over by a bus, shot on an L.A. freeway, dying of cancer or an 'event'... I feel we are on bonus time. Make the Best of it Gang!

As the hot rodders of the 60's used to say about engines:

"There's no substitute for cubic inches."

Dr. N. says...

"There's no substitute for cubic Experience!"

Ride on my friends...