I like to work jigsaw puzzles when the weather prohibits being outside. From November through at least January, there is one on a card table by the fireplace waiting for my attention. Charles and I stop from time to time to add a piece, or we will spend hours bent over it trying to finish. Our grandson, Marcos, loves to help us when he stays over. He will stick to it longer than most adults will.
I like crossword puzzles as well. In fact, I enjoy most any puzzle. I am particularly drawn by the puzzles that just come out of life. People are puzzling to me, especially when it comes to healthcare. People, in general, are willing to take what their doctor says as gospel. While it is widely accepted that daily consumption of broccoli reduces a person’s risk of cancer and liver disease, boosts the immune system and protects the DNA, it puzzles me that most people are more open to taking a daily pill than eat broccoli every day. Broccoli comes at fraction of the cost of most prescription drugs and there are no downsides to eating it. Prescription drugs are expensive and come with a long list of side effects. Granted, there is a potential problem with eating broccoli if you are taking blood thinners, but that is because broccoli also helps keep the blood thin. Eat enough broccoli and you could just forget your blood thinners. But, you didn’t hear that from your doctor. There are several nutritious whole foods that would replace a prescription drug if the doctors would just inform the patients. Grapefruit, for example, helps lower cholesterol and blood pressure, but people taking statins are warned not to eat grapefruit. Is this puzzle making any sense to anyone?
If a person simply cannot abide broccoli, there are other cruciferous vegetables that have similar benefits. Myself, I’m thankful that Brussel’s sprouts cannot compete with broccoli for health benefits – or at least I haven’t read any studies that say so. I simply cannot abide Brussel’s sprouts. However, if my doctor told me eating the devil’s cabbage daily could eliminate even one of the drugs I take now, I’d cover them with caramel and chocolate buttons and feast on the little buggers.
My cardiologist (the latest one of so many who came before him) won me over when he said he loved to solve puzzles, and that he looked forward to solving the puzzle that is my heart. I asked him if he could just replace the entire heart and he said “trust me, you do not want that.” This is puzzling. Old cars can be brought back to showroom performance by replacing the engine, why wouldn’t I want my heart replaced with one sporting working valves and soft luxurious upholstery?
A few days ago, my friend Claire, whose neck I have never had the honor of hugging but who I love nevertheless, shared with me that a dear friend of hers had just received a heart transplant. Born with a heart defect, Anne has had two open heart surgeries to replace valves. This time, she got a new heart altogether. The next day when Claire relayed that Anne had survived the night and was making progress, I actually wept with relief. I didn’t just want Anne to survive, I wanted her to thrive. At only 56 years old, Anne has so much life ahead of her. It is not fair to make her live her golden years limping along with a heart that has been a lemon from the start. I cannot explain the connection I felt with Anne, reading her story on CaringBridge and what Claire had to say about her struggles and her strength. I even shared with Claire the alphabet board hack Charles came up with when I was on a ventilator so I could communicate with him; hoping it would help Anne. I pray for Anne daily, and am looking forward to the day when she is removed from the ventilator.
Tomorrow, I go in for yet another procedure on my heart. My puzzle enthusiast cardiologist and the puzzle loving pulmonologist working on my case both feel that my continuing issues, even after the two surgeries that were supposed to fix them, is due to a hole in my heart caused by the second surgery – a MitraClip insertion. The hole was punched to allow them to install the clip. This hole usually closes up on its own, but mine did not. I spoke to one fellow Mitraclip recipient whose doctor repaired the hole immediately after making sure the clip was installed and working, before waking him up from the procedure. That really sounds like a good idea to me – and puzzling to me why my surgeon didn’t think to do that.
It is hard to resist sinking into a hole of doubt after all this time. Expecting to be feeling almost 100%, then not, over and over. It would be easy to assume they are just taking a stab at it, grasping at straws, throwing stuff against the wall to see what sticks, meanwhile collecting thousands in insurance payments and a pretty co-pay from me. But, nevertheless, I’m going under again.
Since the decision was made two months ago to do the procedure (officially called “atrial septal defect closure” but “button procedure” to its friends), I have kept myself out of the sinkhole of despair by either not thinking about it at all, or visualizing a positive outcome. My favorite meditative visualization is one in which my surgeon takes a jigsaw puzzle piece from the surgery tray and inserts it into my chest.
“It fits!” he says, “close her up and send her home.” The operating room erupts in applause as he snaps off his gloves and leaves the theater.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” comes the voice over the hospital’s PA system, “Dr. Jeff has left the building.”
My wish is to also leave the building… and never return.
I see that puzzle piece glowing with brilliant perfection – created just for this moment, waiting through generations of families to come to this moment, the hands that created it, the teachers who nurtured the makers and doers. All with faith, not knowing this moment was coming. A cathedral I say, a perfection. With love, Claire
Beautiful. Thank you, Claire.
Amen sweet Diane! Amen! that will be my prayer for you as well. To leave the building alive and never return.
Thank you, friend!
I’m Anne’s husband, Paul. Claire shared your blog with me this morning, and I just wanted to share how moved I was by your words. To know that my dear Anne is being lifted up by strangers dispels any feeling of isolation. Please know that I am lifting you too, wishing you nothing but vibrant good health.
Thank you, Paul. I am doing well, post procedure, and I understand Anne had a busy day today as well.