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My Heart Surgery & Recovery & 10 beautiful things that got me through ~

It has now been a while since my open heart surgery, and it feels as if the time has  come to talk about it. Olivia said to me the other day, ‘Mom, do you get tired of answering people when they ask you how you are doing?’ My answer was ‘no’~

It was a significant thing to go through and it touches me that so many people were and are still so genuinely concerned.

Heart surgery is not uncommon. Most of us can name people we know who have gone through some sort of procedure to address a heart condition.

I am now connected to these people.

No one, however, can really prepare you for the invasiveness of heart surgery, nor for the accompanying feelings of overwhelming vulnerability that accompany allowing your heart to be stopped, worked on,
and no one really likes to talks about that crippling underlying fear

that things could go wrong.

For the first several weeks after surgery it was all I could do just to find ways to process all of my feelings and accept the complex experience I had been through and begin to heal.

How grateful am I now though?

My heart is fixed thanks to the truly spectacular wonders that modern medicine and technology have gifted us. I feel energy and vitality building in me that I have not felt for years, perhaps even never felt.

Nor is it possible for me to feel and see the world in the same way after having had major surgery. Everything looks just a little different,

a little brighter, a little simpler, even lovelier than before.

There were, of course, magical moments that will never leave me – shining moments that really got me through and helped me feel and know for sure that everything would be ok –

Here are my top 10…

1) All the big love that came to me before surgery. Flowers, messages, prayers, cards, hugs….Friends and acquaintances offering up love and support and letting me know that they were thinking of me. Right up until I went to sleep the night before surgery, I was still receiving new messages and feeling virtually held up by everyone.

2) Great parking spots the day before surgery and the morning of, as trivial as that may sound. Others had complained to us about the mess of trying to find parking at the Foothills, but for us it was literally a snap. It seemed as though just as we would pull up right in front of the hospital, someone else would pull out with smiles and waves. It was absolutely seamless and helped me trust that in even in the most mundane of ways we were being looked after.

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3) Having my kids with me – It felt really important  that all three of my kids were nearby. I needed to feel them close, I needed them to be a part of all of it and understand what was happening rather than imagine the worst. I wanted them to see the preciousness of life that is more deeply understood when we come into close contact with trauma, sickness, recovery, and healing. My mother taught me to not shy away from these facts of life and I felt a responsibility to extend that important teaching to my own children. And so the kids were there at the hospital before, during, and after surgery…in the waiting room for hours and hours with their cousins while I was in surgery, on the hospital grounds running and playing under their Auntie’s supervision, on hunts for ice cream or treats with Glenna, and holding my hands during the days after as I started taking my little laps around the halls. Alex carefully watched over my vitals and supervised visits and messages from friends. George played numerous games of Battleship with Glenna between hesitant visits to my room when he would offer me quick kisses, and Olivia stayed close until everyone else except Dan had gone back home to Lethbridge. She helped me dress, checked my incisions, waited on me, meticulously mothered me.

4) An unexpected angel of reassurance -It’s difficult to describe the fear that I felt as my body was being prepared for surgery at 6am on the morning of April 8. Even the two Ativan that they gave me weren’t quite enough to completely calm me. However, after I was wheeled into the surgical suite on the stretcher, something happened that I will never forget….A doctor came up to me, whom I had never met, and told me he would be assisting in my operation.

He then told me that it was going to be great, and that if he was having open-heart surgery, this is precisely the team he would choose. We chatted for a bit longer, and then he left to carry on with his preparations. It is difficult to describe the power of that interaction, but the comfort that he gave to me extends even into this day.

5) Nurses – My grandmother had a distinguished and respected career as head nurse of surgery. Her and I were very close, and it was her that I thought of most often as I prepared for surgery. I imagined her watching over all of the medical details, and sending energies of competency, perfectionism, and love. Little did I think, though, about this deep professional care extending into the days afterwards, but it did,

as it manifested in the nurses who looked after me.

These women and men talked to me about what I was experiencing, watched my recovery with genuine concern, answered my questions, helped me move, sit, walk, bathe, covered me in warm blanket after warm blanket,

and showed me how to receive and be completely taken care of when I had no other choice.

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Margaret Filchak

6) Other patients – Cardiac patients are encouraged to get moving as soon as possible. It is very important to start working the heart again. So the halls circling around the cardiac rooms are continuously peppered by people in their hospital gowns shuffling slowly along, often with family members walking along beside them. There are chairs dispersed for rests and visits, and it can feel a little like a turtle marathon with much encouragement and smiles coming from other patients and their families.

‘Oh you are moving well, good for you!’

‘And what did you have done – bypass or valve work?’

‘How many days are you at now?’ (everyone remembers their surgery date like it’s their birthday)

It is a such beautiful and inspiring thing to witness,

how quickly and naturally communities form wherever we are. It seems to me that, generally, we are all out  to support one another even when we are struggling and in pain ourselves. It is by far one of the most beautiful thing about human nature, this urge to form connections whatever our circumstances.

7) My beautiful chair– A few days before surgery Alex and Ry decided that my favorite chair should be moved from the living room to our back window. This is the great big, pillowy, floral print chair that Dan bought me for our first Christmas together. As soon as I saw my beloved chair tucked into the corner of our sunroom. I actually felt a little excited about my recovery as I imagined myself tucked deep inside of its cozy warmth, cup of tea and a pile of books by my side. Dan put a little antique wood table that had belonged to my grandmother at the chair’s side, and Olivia decorated the table with a little cup of flowers.

This was where I sat for a month,

receiving visitors, coordinating, watching Netflix, reading, drinking copious cups of tea, and watching Spring unfold.

7) Food – Before surgery, when people would ask me if there was anything they could do  I would say, ‘Well, yes, you could bring us food.’ I knew for sure this was the one area where we would struggle. As you all know, it takes a tremendous amount of time and energy to shop for and feed a family and I am all about nourishing and healthy food, especially during times of stress and healing.  Let me just say that we were very well fed, and I am convinced that food is always one of the very best ways to help. Thank you, thank you, and thank you to everyone who helped in this way.

9) Walks in the sunshine– As soon as I got home from Calgary my little walks around the cardiac unit transformed into walks up and down our street, on the arms of my husband. We walked and walked and walked, many times a day, willing my heart to gradually strengthen and heal. The weather during those first few days and weeks was absolutely perfect, warm, and regenerative. Often, we were stopped by neighbours offering up hugs and words of encouragement and I felt as deeply loved and cheered on by our friends as I did by my surroundings; by our street, by the houses, the trees, the sunshine, by all of it.

10) A shift from fear and waiting towards trusting and being. Even though I had great faith in my brilliant and well-respected surgeon, and deep hope for my future, open-heart surgery was  an event I had been fearing for a long time.

We all have major, transformative events in our lives that shake us up; deaths of loved ones, health issues that catch us by surprise, ends of relationships, and so on. These sorts of events always have the power to drive us deeper into fear and or resentment, hold us hostage, make us distrustful of life, paralyze us –

or

They can make us more determined to find the light, the adventure, the play, the stillness, the ways to love, the reasons to celebrate, and the courage to take those brave leaps towards our dreams.

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Grandma Carol’s Garden 2015; Garden theme ‘Full Hearts’

Once again I am restored and choose happiness.

Thank you, dear heart.

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On my Heart, (Not) Feeding the Animals, and Peace Lilies

Every week I am going to speak to three topics: anecdotes, books, ideas, products, or innovations that I believe are peace-building, heart-opening, community-celebrating, love-spreading vehicles. Complaining and criticizing are easy traps to fall into, but I am convinced that building up holds far more power and transformative energy.

So, my sweet friends, here goes…Our world is a beautiful village and peace does begin at home.

What I am thinking about / loving this week….

1) My heart

This fall I was diagnosed with a heart condition, mitral regurgitation. This is a common heart condition and basically means that blood is leaking backwards through my heart’s mitral valve. Untreated, this could eventually lead to heart failure.

When this situation came to light, I was pretty stunned though my intuition had been telling me that there was something physical that needed to be uncovered. During the last year or two I have suddenly become unable to do hikes that had never before been a problem.

My head immediately wanted to get to down to business and accept this new reality and deal with it, but my heart wanted to grieve something that had been lost.

After all, it meant recalibrating and perceiving myself in a new way….as someone with a heart condition.

This felt a little complicated.

I am a reader, a writer, and a lover of symbols and meanings and now,

here was this life-changing piece of news having to do with the greatest symbol that ever was. The heart.

My heart was struggling.

Just hear that sentence. Every time you insert the word heart, the mind cannot help but jump straight to emotion, life-experiences, triumphs and losses. Try to even enter the feeling realm and not use the word heart. It’s everywhere in our language- heartbreak, heart-ache, whole-hearted, heart-warming, big-hearted, piece of my heart, hard-hearted….

My interpretation of my condition, then, was immediately emotional as well as physical,

just as there are no separate words to distinguish the beating organ from the place where love sits.

This heart of mine has been through a lot. It has weathered divorce, illnesses, miscarriage, the death of my mother, friends, other family members.

It has given so much, too, in its efforts to love and be loved.

An understanding of the magnitude of how hard my heart has worked for me completely overwhelmed me during those first few weeks after my diagnosis. I held this consistent image of my brave little heart continuing to  beat on through all of the loss, grief, uncertainty and fears.

and –  All for me. Now that is love.

An even deeper appreciation crept in for its beating on through all the times when I have given too much, resisted too hard, compromised, put myself last, neglected my needs and dishonored my truest self.

I suddenly felt such tremendous affection for this beautiful and indescribably precious organ that not only literally gives us life but ultimately holds ALL of the cards at the end of the game.

How I suddenly desperately wanted to call in some troops, acknowledge how hard it has worked, and affirm my renewed support.

So it has been a winter of re-assessment, of letting go of many obligations and then slowly and more thoughtfully letting new things in. It has been a winter of asking myself constantly, ‘Does this fill my cup?’ ‘Is this heart-honoring worthy?’

On the practical side, the troops are on their way. Dan and I have been able to meet with the cardiac surgeon and contrary to what we were first lead to believe, the valve can be repaired through a new and minimally invasive procedure. We were completely delighted by this news.

I will be facing heart surgery within the next few years, but

my heart is ready and is willing to be opened.

Go figure.

It turns out that this gal who wants to talk about peace at home is being invited to raise the stakes by looking at her very own heart first.

2) (NOT) feeding the animals:

This past weekend we were in Waterton for Easter. We were all sitting around our table at the cabin one afternoon when we noticed out the window a vehicle stopped on the road. From this van, family members were throwing crackers at the bighorn sheep on the sides of the road. The sheep, of course, were busy being sheep so were mildly interested while also mildly annoyed by the crackers hitting them on the sides of their heads.

This seems like an insignificant event, but it made me sad.

Why is it so difficult for humans to understand that our earth is made up of fragile webs of interconnectedness? Without understanding the exact scientific placement of sheep in the ecosystems of Waterton, I am certain that it is crucial to the delicate balance of these ecosystems that sheep feed on the particular vegetation that they have always fed on, not ritz crackers. Maintaining their natural diet would be crucial for the sheep, crucial for the plants, crucial for all the creatures linked in this particular food chain.

We can enjoy the sheep, take pictures of the sheep but

the sheep are not walking down the road solely for our amusement.

This blog is about peace, and I do mean to make that my focus. Occasionally, though, peace means standing up for someone or something. My heart always knows when it’s time.

So that day in Waterton, I did run out of our cabin and I politely but firmly asked these people to please stop feeding the animals.

Happy Earth Day, Sheep!

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3) Peace Lilies:

I cannot even remember when I purchased this peace lily. I think I bought it upon moving back to Lethbridge after my first marriage ended, though I’m actually not sure. No matter. I have always felt love and loyalty towards my lily. It rarely blooms, likely because my attention is fickle and I often forget to pay attention to what it needs. It sits in a nice little spot though by the back door where it gets lots of light, and lately I have been making sure that my plants are better watered. This week, after everybody was in bed I was standing in the kitchen and looked over at it and…behold! photo[1]

Dan said he thinks it’s a good sign, and now I can see yet another bloom.

Peace.

Have you had an experience where a health crisis has caused you to re-evaluate? How and when do you speak up for the earth? What is your current favourite plant or flower?