They cut my chest open and fixed my broken heart on this day two years ago. Dr. Tharakan and the throng of nurses and doctors buzzing around the operating room are bodies without faces in my memory now, but what I do remember is peace in that room. As I looked out the window, the anesthesiologist talked to me, explaining what he was about to do. Cars went by outside that window; we were at street level – the window near the ceiling, and I could see tires and lower portions of cars, and it struck me that life went on as normal outside of that room where I was about to be asleep, and my existence changed. Still looking out the window despite the people moving all around me, all there for me, I silently prayed, and I said, “Jesus, I either wake up with you or with work to do.”

Over the next few hours, my chest was opened, and my heart was literally in Dr. Tharakan’s hands. From what I understand, I was on a lung machine during the procedure. My mitral valve was replaced with a mechanical valve. Leading up to surgery, my natural, born-with mitral valve was severely leaking. One of my surgical cardiologists told Patrick that he was astounded I was able to even walk around, it was leaking so profusely. Blood was not pumping through my body even close to how it should. So, on 6-21-24, that issue was fixed. And now, I’m the bionic woman.

Well, not like Lindsay Wagner, but I do have a mechanical device in my heart, keeping it pumping, keeping me here – living and with work to do.

Recovery was a long process. My WordPress blog documents those days and weeks after surgery. I made it a point to write about the recovery process every week with updates regarding how I felt and what new things I learned about myself and my body, and my faith. It was close to ten weeks before I could sleep comfortably in our bed. Months before I could roll on my side. Still to this day, I have sharp pains in various places in my chest – these are leftover pains and aches from being fully cracked open and wired back together. So, it’s not just the mechanical valve; I also have wires that are now fused with bone, which initially held the sternum together like I’d take a twisty tie and wrap it around two items to hold them as one. Only, these wires are much tougher and larger than twisty ties.

Taking Warfarin every day is … interesting, as is testing my INR (blood thickness) each week and reporting those results to my nurse. My diet is different from before surgery – spinach, jalapenos, banana peppers, green peppers, green onions – all things I miss daily – they’re high in Vitamin K, and well, that’s no bueno for me unless I eat it on a consistent weekly basis, same day, same time-ish, and that’s a lot of order that makes me feel a tad verklempt, so I just cut most of those food items out, and I’m adjusting to that. It’s a dance. A Warfarin dance, and I’m still learning the steps.

The scar is still there, and I’m glad. It reminds me every day that my life is a gift. It always was, I just didn’t know how to appreciate it as such. From day one after waking up in the ICU, I have fully understood that every day I have is a literal gift from God, and I strive to never take that for granted.

I proudly wear this pendant around my neck that bears the medical symbol encircled by rhinestones. On the back, it explains I have a mechanical valve and am on Warfarin. It also says ICE with my husband’s phone number. Along with my necklace, I daily wear a medical alert bracelet. I’m taking no chances that an EMT would miss that I need extra care. I’m “special.” In more ways than one. I say that with all the love for my life, my situation, and my God-given purpose. I realize that life is special, and while I’m still here, I will step forward with gratitude, faith, and joy. Come what may.

This 2nd anniversary feels monumental. I’m excited to be at this point. In the ICU, it felt like the pain would last forever … but blips here and there I can easily handle. I am just grateful. So grateful. And whatever time I have left here, I will spend in gratitude and in being of service to God each day, choosing to do the next right thing as often as I possibly can.

Selah.