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Open Heart

Here's what not to do if you find out that your mom is going in for open-heart surgery in 18 hours: go on the hospital's web site to look up the procedure and see graphic full-color illustrations of exactly how they will hack her chest open, jam in a rib spreader to yank her rib cage apart, and clamp off her aorta to stop her heart while they cut out the existing arteries to replace them with a vein they pulled out of her leg.

They're going to do that to my Mommy?!

We found out on a Friday evening that she was having coronary bypass surgery on Saturday morning. The surgery actually took the better part of Saturday as they found four blocked arteries and had to replace them all. She was in intensive care that night, but on Sunday afternoon I was able to speak to her on the phone. And she sounded great.

Sure she was a little weak and out of breath, but damn -- she was alive and talking! I was pretty amazed. Not only by the fact that medical science has reached the point where they can cut somebody open, repair their heart and sew them up again, but also by the fact that the human body can withstand such an incredible trauma and be sitting up in bed, eating solid food and talking on the phone the very next day.

Mom stayed in the hospital for the rest of the week. Dad was there with her most of the time. Apparently they really enjoyed the hospital food. That's all I heard about when I called, "we're having roast beef with potatoes and vegetables -- it's so good." My Dad basically ate all of his meals at the hospital.

My sister Cindy flew down to Florida be with them for the first week home from the hospital. They came home on Cindy's birthday, which I guess is a pretty nice present. Being so far away, I was really glad to know that Cindy was there to lend a hand. Mom was already well on the road to recovery: up and walking for a few minutes two or three times a day, breathing exercises six times a day, eating lots of protein and getting plenty of rest. She has a nurse that comes by every few days to check up on her progress. Everyone said she was doing remarkably well.

Still, it was hard be unable to see her.

My younger sister Susan took the second shift with Mom. She brought special foot-massage socks that show you where all of the pressure points are. Susan's foot massages were a big hit with Mom. Her recovery was proceeding extremely well and she was up and walking about a half-hour each day. That's more than I usually walk. People from Mom & Dad's church came by with casseroles and hams and Mom was amassing a pretty sizeable collection of cards and flowers. One of the most difficult aspects of the recovery is maintaining a positive spirit. After suffering such a major injury, it can be difficult to summon up the energy each day to keep up with the regimen of eating, exercise, medicine etc. But my Mom is a real trooper and when the going gets tough, she rises to the occasion.

Finally it was my turn to visit. I packed up a load of organic grains and protein powder and the SuperFood blend of algae, seaweed, alfalfa and wheat grass that I swear by and flew out for a week with Mom & Dad. What a great relief to see her at last. She looked fantastic. Despite having spoken to her many times since the operation and hearing the glowing reports from my sisters, it was a pretty big deal to be able to see her and give her a hug -- but not too hard.

I started right in the next morning preparing her my special SuperFood fruit smoothies. As it turns out they have a health food store called "Richard's Whole Foods" within walking distance of their house. I fixed them my favorite whole grain pasta with veggies and ground turkey for dinner one night, which they seemed to enjoy. We took several long walks -- Mom was up to 45 minutes at this point. One night we walked down to a fish house on the nearby inland waterway. But instead of fish, Mom ordered a beer-battered hot dog with fries. She said the Doctor told her to eat whatever she wants, and that's what she wanted. Who am I to argue with medical science?

Even though she was doing quite well, Mom was still having a little trouble catching her breath. When her nurse stopped by she learned that she needed to have some excess fluid drained from her lungs, a normal by-product of the healing process. The nurse told her to take it easy and not to worry, but for the next couple of days she seemed to lose a little of her energy. On Monday, we took her to the hospital for the procedure, it doesn't take that long, but they like you to rest for a while afterwards. Dad and I sat in the waiting room for a couple of hours -- I actually fell asleep. Suddenly, I felt someone touching my arm -- it was Mom, she was done with the procedure and didn't feel like waiting around there anymore, so she told them she was ready to go. We stopped and picked up a chicken salad sandwich for her from the hospital cafeteria -- "the food is so good here!" -- and we were on our way.

I had to leave the next day, I really wish I could have stayed longer, but that's another story. Fortunately, Cindy's husband Angelo picked up the fourth leg of our relay and is spending another week or so with my parents. They've been keeping him busy with plenty of little chores around the house, plus he's and excellent cook, so I'm sure they're being well fed.

It was good to feel like I was able to help take care of my parents when they needed a little help, after all they took pretty good care of me for twenty-odd years. And still do. In fact, my trip to Florida did a lot more for me in some ways than it did for them. I'm sure they could have gotten along without me, they have tons of friends who would be willing to pitch in and help them with whatever they needed. But I needed to make sure they were OK for my own peace of mind. And they were. They're doing fine. And the fact that they are doing fine is just another way that they are still taking care of me.

Keep getting better, Mom.
Love, Rich

PTO

About a week ago I was in my office packing up all of my personal stuff. I'd had enough, and I was getting ready to walk out for good. For the past six months, I've been working on a case that is on a fast track to trial in Federal Court against a law firm that will stoop to any level in order to win. In the midst of that, our firm has been remodeling and we had to pack up everything on our floor and move to a temporary location for two months and then pack it all up again and move back. Meanwhile, my boss has been made the managing partner of the firm -- which is like the boss of all bosses -- and the added pressure has been making him act like a real dickhead. So the other night when I was staying late to prepare him for an out-of-town deposition, and he basically told me that I was no help at all and I might as well go home, I came damn close to taking him at his word.

But I didn't. What I did do, however, was decide to take a couple of "personal" days off in order to try and restore my mental health. So the next morning I emailed them (that's what we do these days instead of calling in sick) and told them I would be out due to "illness." The thing about "Personal Time Off" is that you generally have to ask for it in advance, unless of course you're sick, then you just call in (or in my case send an email). But if you're sick for more than three days, you have to bring a doctor's note. Since I got "sick" on a Thursday, I didn't have to worry about the note.

There were other factors influencing my mental condition, besides the overwhelming amount of work and my boss's rude behavior. There was my back, which has been aching ever since I had to pack up and move about three hundred boxes worth of files when we changed floors. There's the fact that I'm trying to play in a band and write screenplays and never really feeling like I'm getting anywhere with either. And then there's the fact that my Mom had open heart surgery two weeks ago. Fortunately, she got through it very well and is recuperating nicely. My sister Cindy went down to see her last week and my other sister Susan is going next week. I will be heading down in early March. Even though I've spoken to her on the phone a lot since the operation, I don't think I'll feel quite right until I see her.

An essential step in my recovery was to catch up on some movie watching, especially with the Oscars coming up. So on Thursday I went see Million Dollar Baby, which is the best film so far by one of the best directors ever. It was truly cathartic and while I wouldn't say it made me feel "better," it definitely changed the way I felt. I also had a long talk with my Mom who was home from the hospital, well not too long, she still gets a little out of breath. She was completely supportive of my mental health vacation. I talked to Cindy too, it was a good to know she was there with Mom.

The next day was for errands -- I bought new underwear at Target. Why do they never have plain old size medium all-cotton boxers? I mean they carry them, sure, but every time I go there they are sold out -- except for one or two pair which I have to dig through all of the other sizes to find. I swear this is true every single time I shop for boxers and every single place I go, Kmart, Old Navy, you name it, they are always sold out of size medium all-cotton boxers. They have all the other sizes in abundance. They have boxer-briefs by the truckload. What the hell are boxer briefs anyway? Either it's a boxer or it's a brief. You can't have both. You can't. Who the hell is buying boxer briefs? Make a goddamn choice guys. Boxers or briefs, one or the other. And why can't the store figure out to carry more size mediums, since that's the size that always sells out? Do the math!

Clearly I was still a little stressed-out on Friday.

On Saturday I did a little work on my new screenplay and met up with Jimmy the lead singer in the band. We had dinner and then came back here and worked on a new song he is writing. Now this is how life should be. Work on the screenplay, dinner with a friend, play a little music. No boxes of documents, no annoying lawyers, nobody in the hospital.

By Sunday I was feeling almost human again. I worked all day on the screenplay and cooked myself a nice healthy meal with lots of fresh vegetables and brown rice. I watched the Grammys and fell in love with Alicia Keyes. I was ready to go back. Not looking forward to it, but ready.

When I got to work on Monday I heard all about the two huge last-minute crises I had missed on Thursday and Friday. I also found out the boss was out of town all week. All week! It was like another four days off. And unlike most of the time when he's away, this week I had no voice mails, no emails from his Blackberry, no last minute faxes -- not a peep. Maybe my sudden vacation had some effect on him as well.

Yesterday, the boss came back. And we were embroiled in another crisis -- some deal we had made with the other side had fallen through as they always do since those guys are a bunch of lying bastards. Plus we were in the middle of packing up everything to move back into our old offices. Naturally the crisis demanded that we come in to work this weekend, but we couldn't come in today since the offices wouldn't be ready for us. So it looks like the boss and I will be in the office tomorrow, shoulder to shoulder once again. Yesterday, he seemed a little reluctant to talk to me at first, but after a few awkward minutes we were back to the old routine. We've got two more months to trial, with any luck we'll make it without killing each other.

Wait until he finds out I'm going to Florida in two weeks to see my Mom.

So I still haven't quit my job. But I did bring home all of my personal stuff that I had packed up the other night. The only control I have in my job is the ability to leave it. This time it was enough just to leave for a couple of days. Next time it may be a lot longer.

Be well.
HWD