Happiness and Healthcare

My dear father-in-law is currently in surgery — open heart surgery to repair his dissected (torn) aorta.  And we are sitting in the hospital totally happy!

Lester M. Dunning (initials LMD, aka Lucky Mr Dunning) has been healthy for 80 years, until eight weeks ago when he *thought* he hurt his back making a difficult shot on the golf course (tremendous shooting pain, etc).  He’s been in and out of his doctor’s office since then, taking antibiotics, feeling better and worse but never quite normal.  Something was not quite right with his system.  He was always tired.  He was losing weight.  He was running a low-grade fever every other day.  A nagging cough would not go away.  Everyone was wanting for him to feel better, but no one could figure out the problem.  Anxiety was running high.

Finally, his doctor sent him for a CAT Scan a couple days ago.  Minutes after he arrived home, his doctor was on the phone with the results: “Go to the hospital.  Now.”  Turns out he’s been walking around with a dissected aorta, a condition that normally results in death – yes, death – in 90% of cases, usually within a few hours.  Hours. And this man has been walking around w/ the condition for two months!

And not just walking.  WALKING!  On his good days, he and Lois were still maintaining their two-mile walking regimen.  He flew to Nova Scotia to visit Lois’ son.  Everyone in the healthcare system who has heard this story says the same thing: “wow – you must be just plain lucky!”  Statistically, he should be gone.  Statistically, his walking around — and let’s not even talk about the flying! — should have killed him.

His survival for this long with this condition is so unusual that several doctors have come in to examine and study him.  This morning, everyone on the 15-person surgical team came in to the pre-op area to meet him before they took him to the OR — because they wanted to meet this man who is a walking miracle.

With this much positive attention, is it any wonder that we was in an incredibly UPBEAT mood as they wheeled him away?  The surgical nurse came down to tell us that he was laughing and joking with the team as they put him under to start the procedure.

So, as serious as this surgery is (it doesn’t get more invasive than when they open your ribcage with a power saw!), we are THRILLED that he is undergoing this seven-hour ordeal. He is, indeed, Lucky Mr Dunning.

Clearly, he has more work to do in this life.  And we are pretty happy about that. 

Happiness is just being alive and well

Wednesday I delivered two programs for employees at the Veterans Administration.  This was the eve of the seventh anniversary of 9/11, and signs up and down the hallways at the center reminded people of a memorial service to be held the next morning.

During lunch and after the program I got to mingle with a number of disabled veterans who were hanging around the recreation hall where we held the programs.  Mostly it was older men in wheelchairs or using canes to get around, slowly.  They just wanted to chat, and a fresh face like mine meant they could tell some of their stories to a new audience!  I just listened…

At the end of the day, after the staff departed and I was left to pack up my stuff, the old guys returned to reclaim their rec hall.  I chatted with a couple of them as I shut down the sound system and stowed my laptop.  I noticed a group of young kids jostling down the hall, and a couple of them spun off and into the hall.  They started moving some chairs around, and I assumed they must be maintenance guys coming in to tear down and reset the room for the next event.

Then, I notice that one of them was missing an arm.

And another carried a significant limp — he was walking on a prosthesis.

I looked again.  These guys were young.  VERY young, by my standards.  Younger than a couple of my own kids.  They were also veterans, here to use the hall.  They were just rearranging the chairs to clear some space near the pool tables.

In that moment, I felt awash in a number of powerful, and wildly different, emotions:

Gratitude for their service (Iraq War veterans).

Sadness for their injuries.

Anger at a system of world government that uses young children to fight old men’s battles.

Hope for their future (they were just being goofy guys… no more, no less)

Happiness for my own health and for the well being and safety of my family.

Don’t just think about it.  FEEL it.  Today, take some Happiness from the fact that you are alive and well and have all your faculties about you, and you can feel safe in your own home.