Then, with a week to go it was cancelled

Sunday I was due to be checking into the hospital to have what should ideally be ‘the fix’. The magic bullet, a new page, a second chance if you will – and here I was answering the phone to my cardiologist’s secretary with all the glee and excitement you would expect – “HELLO!”

A really rather pleasant confident man was going to put a hole in my thigh, thread in a thing, and then spend an hour or so scarring the inside of my heart around where the veins head back in from my heart. While I was asleep, and while it was still beating. The last two parts there, call me old-fashioned, but I am a huge fan of.

The words ‘A family bereavement’ was the first warning. Then the cancellation. Then the inability to rebook for the fortnight,, or indeed the fortnight after that. The words ‘no beds’ was mentioned. Dates came and went, before it dawned on me that I was no longer hearing words – my brain was off on its own wild adventure. There was a noise in my ear like Charlie Brown’s teacher – and the word “but?” and a festival of other questions were now blindly thrashing around inside my head like a Pac Man with the tables turned looking for the now curiously distant flashing ghosts in the form of answers. It was what it was – sure I could have been paying more attention – but it was not going to change the outcome.

The phone went quiet. It went back in my pocket and I got on with making dinner.

There were a few moments to think it over before my partner returned from the garden and I had to say something.

The biggest thing, right there, and right then was the realization that I had hung so much on this event. While this was likely to change life a great deal – I was treating it like some kind of requirement, permission, something that it was not.

I had found a silver lining before it had even sunken in.

It was – in fact – something of a gift.

Because of that – I am here writing this down now.

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