Recovery | Letters From Nod

As of this writing I am 10 weeks and two days into my recovery from open heart surgery. Needless to say this has been a rough road both physically and mentally. Fortunately I’m far enough along to where I’m feeling pretty close to normal, physically at least. The mental game seems to be much more complicated.

The first mental hurdle is trying to get your head around what just happened, along with the general sense of vulnerability that comes with realizing how fragile your own life can be. I’m not going to kid around, depression is a very real monster in the shadow of recovery, but I’m a pretty resilient person and I feel like I can find my way to the light eventually. Even if I’m not quite there just yet.

I’m still learning what my limitations are, and that can be hard for a person like me. You see, I’ve managed to live a pretty long and seemingly healthy life without any need for medication and assistance right up until only six months ago. I’ve always fancied myself as a survivor. The kind of person that can survive on his own in the wilderness with only his wits and a pointy stick. I’ve always been certain I would survive the zombie apocalypse should it ever come to pass.

But as time passes we get older and things break. Eventually your kids take the car keys from you and things get weird. I’d like to think I’m a long way from those kind of events, but I’m having to adjust to some harsh realities that I really didn’t expect to come so soon.

In fact, this reminds me of a time a few years back at an agency where I worked. A group of my friends in the creative department were goofing around and decided in the event of a zombie apocalypse we should start picking roles for each other. Naturally I imagined myself as a pretty self-sufficient warrior. Even in real life I’m trained and highly skilled in multiple weapons, so sure, no brainer for me I thought.

Before I could say what my role would be it was already assigned to me by the guy who started the whole idea. I would be the bagpiper. Yes, I happen to be an actual bagpiper in real life, but that’s beside the point. I’m a badass I thought. I can do more than that. In fact, you’re going to be pretty damn glad you had this bagpiper along when the real zombies come calling! But I digress.

Even then there was something I was not taking into account. Although it didn’t feel this way to me at the time I happened to be considerably older than the rest of the group. Some of them are only five or so years older than my son after all. No matter how badass I imagined myself to be, my role in this zombie apocalypse was destined to be Herschel Greene from the Walking Dead, and somehow I was going to have to figure out how to accept that. Not only that, this was all over 10 years ago, so now I’m even older still.

I’ve never pictured myself as the injured person in some storyline slowing down the others in a group who end up having to drag me along to survive. Now I have a pacemaker. A freaking pacemaker! That is definitely something only weaker old people have in every imagined plot line in my universe. And now it’s me. Not only that, I just learned two days ago that I cannot use a chainsaw anymore. I seriously just bought a new chainsaw a year ago and I still have things that need cutting on my property. Apparently chainsaws can emit a radio frequency that can interfere with your pacemaker and make you dizzy or even faint. Good grief.

So now, back in my dystopian universe of survival, I can’t be Ash Williams from Evil Dead. It would literally make me dizzy and faint if I stuck a chainsaw on my arm where my severed hand used to be. I know it sounds crazy, but that really bothers me. I want options. I want to survive. Now in some dystopian future I’m the guy that has to take 6 different pills twice a day and will faint if I crank up a chainsaw! Seriously. I need to come up with a new plan. Now, in my own made up action movie I’m the bothersome dude who needs to take his medicine and keep his distance from power tools!

Honestly, I don’t really know how this story ends yet y’all. I guess I’ll check in later and let you all know how it’s going. But for right now I still have my wits, my ability to draw, and a bunch of guns, knives, and bows and arrows!

Now it’s time for me to get back on Amazon and buy that seven day pill organizer I’ve been looking at.