The Gift.

[tedwords]

"We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures." —Thornton Wilder

Here's my Facebook post from Father's Day 2022: “What a privilege to be able to host a father's day celebration for my dad this afternoon. Dad, I think the world of you and hope you enjoyed your special day as much as we enjoyed having everyone over. You are truly one of the greats! And now, I am taking a swim, watching a special Father's day edition of "Shit I Make Corb Watch" and then collapsing. Happy father's day to all the dads out there, particularly my brother Tommy Mitchell and my hubby/man mommy, Corbett Thursby, who worked unbelievably hard to help pull this all together. Love you!”

I remember last year's Father's day so well. It was the last day before the rest of my life.

The shindig was held at Green Victoria last year. Kind of last minute, because there had been a problem at the beach house in Westport with the pipes, so that space wasn't available.

Corb and I had already been putting together a big shindig for Ashley's Grad school graduation, meant to be held the following week at Green Vic. When we were asked to host, though, it meant our time frame for completion was moved up by seven days. So, we busted our ass all week-end to make the place presentable for company (and for anyone who knows Corb, that means looking perfect!)

I wish I had been able to take some time off from work, but unfortunately, since I was handling my job at the time and another colleague who had left in March, it wasn't possible. Friday had been especially horrendous, with I think eight media inquiries. So, Friday night and all day Saturday was what we had, with a huge rush Sunday morning to make sure we were presentable by one. Kind of like putting on a show. But we did it! And it was fabulous.

Corb says he remembers how red my face looked mowing the lawn that Saturday, and how I had to sit down for thirty minutes afterwards. That one I don't remember, but it doesn't sound out of line.

The day after the day of dads, after a late night (I am just not a morning person), I woke up. Didn't eat, because I was doing intermittent fasting at the time, and eating time was not til one. Black coffee only, after which at one, I had some junk from Christmas Tree shop and we went home to have lunch--leftovers from the day before. I had a hot dog and some macaroni salad and then planned to go into the pool for a quick swim and pay the freaking bills. Always a fun activity.

Well, I did all that, but in between? Well, I found the time for a heart attack.

I didn't realize that was what happened at the time. I thought it was indigestion, frankly. Except that the burning felt awful and I kept saying "I don't want to die, I don't to die." Which might have been a sign, I don't know. Ya think?

I didn't think.

I pretended it hadn't happened because all I wanted was to get through one more week of all this before heading off to Greece and relaxing for two weeks. It had been a dream of mine since the start of the pandemic, when that goal had been shut down. So I pretended nothing happened and move on, until it happened again two days later, after a long day of work, a heavy dinner and a half an hour of work cutting down knotweed. After that, Corb made me promise to go to the hospital and the rest is history. You all know the drill: a lovely 24 hour hospital stay, three stints put in, and then, somehow, a promotion at work and my trip actually, unbelievably took place.

The point is, as I look back on it, if I wanted to pinpoint any causes for what happened, it was: EVERYTHING. Stress at work, stress at home, not enough sleep, not great eating habits, long moments of sitting working away followed by short bursts of exertion. The only think I can be thankful for is I didn't continue that trend and ignore everything before heading off to Greece. Can you imagine what might have happened had I climbed to view the Parthenon in 100 plus weather without that hospital stay? Somebody was watching out for me.

Not me. I hadn't been doing anything to watch out for myself.

Still, here I am, one year later, having thoroughly enjoyed another Father's day, and now at the day after point, and acutely aware of this anniversary date.

Do I have less stress in my life? Two promotions later, with a wedding to help plan in October, maybe not, but I am trying to pace myself more.

Am I eating better? Yes, thankfully, I think so. I avoid red meats, all things fried, chips. I still have a weakness for sweets and martinis, but I try to keep the mantra about moderation top of mind at all times. I am not perfect, but I am much better.

Am I exercising more? I've gone through cardio rehab and average 7,000 steps a day, and I'm aiming to kick that up and make it 10K. I am still 14 pounds lighter than I was at my highest last year, although I have been trending upward a bit the past few months, which I am acutely aware of. Need to bring that down, down, down.

We've been a bit less intense about the yard work. We do have a lawn guy now and a housekeeper, so that does make maintaining the basics a bit easier.

I am also more purposeful about who I let into my orb. Before the HA, I had been beating myself up about some of the friendships lost as a result of the pandemic and not being involved in theater as much. For half a year, I kept a big sign on my wall in my office that said "You deserve better than transactional relationships." It was really getting to me. These days, I treasure the people who I keep in my life because I know they really care about me and our friendship, and aren't being nice just to score points for a future role (because I no longer have any to offer for a few years). I have pared down my Facebook friends list by hundreds. If I haven't interacted with someone since the start of the pandemic (and I made so many efforts to stay in touch during the pandemic...people would think I was weird, because I would randomly reach out on Messenger and say "how's it going?"), chances are I don't need to keep them on my list.

Instead, I save my dinners and martinis for people who ask "how's it going?" and really want to know.

I am a bit more direct when something bothers me. That may not always be pleasant for folks in my orb, but it does mean that I am not holding things in as much any more. I just let it out there.

I make it a point to find some quiet time for reflection every morning, even if it is just for five minutes. I've been trying to write things down more (in case you haven't noticed), to appreciate all I've been given in life.

Today, one year after my incident, I do think I am stronger now than I was before. And I want to get even stronger.

And I ask everyone who may be reading this, who has gotten this far in this diatribe, to please do the same.

Question your life. Look at your decisions. Be grateful for what you have. Let go of what you can't control.

Make changes if you need to (and let's face it, all of us need to).

And please please please, above all, if you think that you may be at risk for a heart incident, do something. If you are seeing signs, if you have a nagging suspicion, if you have a concern. Please don't put it off until it's too late.

All of us want to reach the top of the Parthenon. We also want to make it down alive.

Do all you need to to make sure you're prepared to scale the heights that life offers. Only, make sure you'll be alive to tell about it, to give yourself the luxury of enjoying the memory.

365 days later, I am awfully glad to still be here on this planet. And guess what? Two weeks from now, there's another big trip planned for the future. Only this time, I need not worry about divine intervention. I've already been given that gift. Hopefully, I've used it to my advantage.