I walked to the hospital at 8:30 this morning. They checked me in, prepped me with a few needles and patches over most of my body, wrote “X”’s on my feet (must have used a Sharpie cause I’m still trying to get them off), and at 11:00 am, they rolled me into the OR.
Cath through the wrist and meds, etc. through the IV.
It’s common knowledge, the Cath procedure is now routine. It’s considered minor surgery. But there is no such thing as minor surgery (oxymoron), when it’s your body on the table. With that said, I watched a screen to my left as they inserted a wire in my right arm, ran it to my right coronary artery, and installed a stent in my 95% blockage.
Before 
After
Five hours later, they pulled all the needles and patches, and handed me some printed instructions. When I asked what else needed to happen, the nurse said, “Walk out that door, go through the double doors, and the elevator will be on your left.” Just like that, I was done. No wheelchair, no escort, just me. I walked through the Lobby to the drive through (Porte Cochere) and then waited on Amanda to pick me up. As I stood there, all I could think was, “I had heart surgery a few hours ago, these people saved my life, and here I am standing our front, waiting on a ride.” That ain’t routine. I am the beneficiary of a miracle. Sometimes, that word is thrown around a little too loosely, but what I witnessed today, from first-hand experience, was just that, a miracle. I stand in awe of the technology, science, and especially of our God who gives all wisdom to man.
We drove directly home (back to the boat in Marathon), 95 miles from Miami. As we stepped on the boat, the Marlin Bay Marina boating community family had made posters and taped them to the boat.
Everybody at Marlin Bay signed the card.
Boaters seldom stay strangers. We have grown close to so many here in these weeks. I teared up as I was reminded of how many people had prayed for me this day, and that my surgery was not a routine thing. It was, well…it was a miracle.