The soldiers had been trained; the plans had been executed thousands of times before. They knew what they had to do and in the late morning of Friday March 8th, they began their assault. They were the good guys – it’s easy to tell the difference between good and evil – just look into its eyes and see if they turn away. Good doesn’t always overcome the bad – but in this case, this one late March morning in Brooklyn New York…The good guys won.

                How I see it is probably much different than the way the events actually occurred. Years of television, movies and an imagination that seems to always go overboard – has obviously had a visual effect on what I envision my life saving Quadruple Bypass Heart Surgery was. Thank God I do not remember anything about the actual surgery, the pre and post-game shows were not recorded so I have been spared. All I remember is beginning to get scared as they shaved me and I said,

“God I am letting go, as always I am in Your hands – but right now I cannot pretend I am not. “

Like I said – no memory of the pre and post Ops – and I prefer it that way, so this is what I see when I close my eyes.

                Visual begins from above – ceiling shot from orbit slowly closes in on Earth, then the Eastern United States, towards Brooklyn, New York and a building’s rooftop. Straight on through we see around 10 or 12 people in surgical getup, we see one of the Surgeons wearing those magnifying glasses and barking out orders, he is obviously in charge and respected.  

                A handheld camera circles around the group, although there is not much to see pass the hair and face coverings. Suddenly we see the man lying on his back – me. That’s as far as I get. We hear someone counting to three and suddenly the scene begins to fade away….

                I wake up, where? What? There is something (a snake?) down my throat, I am totally lost and confused. “It all went perfectly…rest.”

                Voices, “Sit up, I love you, you look great, this will just hurt a little,” a whisper, “I can’t see him like this….; he will be alright.” You search for a clock and you note the time.

                Thirst – “Water? Don’t speak, I can give you ice chips but there aint no drinking when you have this….Ice….please…it’s gonna hurt a little, how are you feeling, just a pinch, prick! Ok no problem…”

Clock hasn’t changed.

                The fire you feel is numbing, the discombobulating (Thank you Clyde Frazier) thoughts which race through your mind are freaky. A man with an eye sticking out looking at you and smiling, a  magician with an ever waiting card trick, bright colors red, green – voices, beeping, beeping, and more fucking beeping – what is the point of these alarms if no one even acknowledges them? Big black nurses telling me I need to eat right. I cough and I don’t know whether to spit or swallow.

“That is each person’s preference; I personally spit rather than swallow – ‘cause yuck, you know?  It doesn’t matter anyway because it moves from your lung to your stomach”

                There is a joke there, I know there is, but I cannot make it out between the beeping, blood sugar and then blood pressure tests. “It will only be a pinch, sorry.” Garbage monsters all dressed in neon green burst into the room and try to make as much noise as they possibly can in changing a plastic bag. Clock hasn’t changed.

                The evenings are really tough – time goes so slow. My brain would imagine a party being held outside my room with wild sex, drugs and alcohol – then the nurse comes in and says it will only hurt a bit, don’t move…”  talking to the other nurse she says, “This is my first time pulling out this catheter from the heart I hope a piece of his aorta doesn’t get stuck.” The other nurse laughs and I sit up – just a dream; when did dreams become so- a couple of nurses or whatever come in with a broom, buckets and begin to sing and dance;

                “Good morning Mr. Zalta need to give you an Angiogram, so we can find answers in these anagrams, see the visions in this hologram, spectrogram,  an echogram and-”

 I wake up and thank God I never did drugs. Clock hasn’t changed.

                The reality of the situation is that right now there is none I can possibly accept and not freak out from. Basically what was done to my body by the great surgeon, Dr. Israel Jacobowitz, cannot be comprehended by myself. I am not sure how others feel but it freaks me out. My general doctor, Dr. Michael Konig, who basically saved my life with his knowledge and understanding told me the quick version and I am still a bit freaked out but I also realize it’s something I should be able to accept and be grateful for because – my General Doctor recognized something was wrong in me that could have taken me away forever.

Why was I picked to be saved? It is not my place to judge but I can tell you I do not feel superior to those who were not as lucky (Blessed? Chosen? Picked out randomly?) as I have been. The Doctor saw me in his office, knew there was a problem, sent me to the hospital, took a test to verify, confirmed and sent the troops in to do their work.  Why was I given this opportunity to…keep on keeping on?

 Here I am with my six fingered typing living, pulling my thoughts and spreading them like cream cheese on a hot bagel for the whole world, if they choose to, see. Well I have always tried to help others with issues that have plagued me. I guess I will continue to do the same for as long as the clock continues to turn and the good guys have my back.