Back in early February – which now seems a lifetime ago – my husband Danny was told by his cardiologist that he would need surgery to correct a blocked carotid artery. Of course I couldn’t resist chiding him that years of unhealthy snacking had finally caught up with him.
Danny’s surgery was set for Tuesday, March 31 at New York’s Mount Sinai Hospital. The surgeon was confident all would go well and Danny would be fully recovered in time for trips we had planned for April and May. And in June we anticipated heading up to our country house in Connecticut for the summer.
What we didn’t anticipate was Covid 19.
And so as things spiraled down and the pandemic threat was suddenly a reality, and with New York City as the probable epicenter, our son Noah urged us to try to get an earlier surgery date.
I knew the surgeon operated on Tuesdays only, and so I feared his schedule would be full. But ironically because of Covid 19, an out-of-town medical conference was cancelled giving him another operating day. So much to our relief, Danny’s surgery was moved to March 17, St Patrick’s Day. James Joyce-lover that I am, I felt that was a good omen!
And so early that rainy St Paddy’s morning Noah and I drove Danny to Mount Sinai. Noah took him in to be admitted, but couldn’t stay very long – the Covid no-visitor policy was already in affect.
As I waited in the car, I watched dozens of health care workers hurrying through the rain, some leaving the hospital after their night shift, others going in to start their day Most wore the same green scrubs, but as this was New York – and hopefully this is still America – under their hoodies, rain hats and umbrellas, I saw the faces of men and women of all creeds and colors.
Thankfully Danny’s surgery went well, and the day after he was discharged we packed our car. took our cat, and drove to Connecticut to hunker down indefinitely. Our son joined us with his two cats, all our best-laid plans now on hold.
The other day Danny and I went out on our deck to catch the sun. The air was nippy and I brought wool throws for our laps.
“Let’s imagine we’re sitting in deck chairs on a grand ocean liner heading for an exotic port.”, said my husband.
”As long as it’s not the Titanic.”, I said.
Stay safe, and safe harbor everyone!
Dana Susan Lehrman
This retired librarian loves big city bustle and cozy country weekends, friends and family, good books and theatre, movies and jazz, travel, tennis, Yankee baseball, and writing about life as she sees it on her blog World Thru Brown Eyes!