Thrive. This is the word I claimed for 2020. I don’t do “resolutions”, but I do appreciate choosing a guiding word for each new year. In some ways it’s almost laughable that, of all years, I chose “thrive” for what has undoubtedly already been one of the more challenging and unpredictable years for many of us… and it’s only April.
I’ve always loved words. For as long as I can remember, I have enjoyed reading, writing, and speaking. I can’t remember a time when I couldn’t read, and to this day, there is always a stack of books sitting beside my bed, or laying around the house for easy access. As a child, my love for words was honed through opportunities to write creatively in school, and I always loved bringing new worlds to life in short stories and poetry. When other kids were participating in various sports teams, I was participating in public speaking contests, spelling bees, and drama opportunities both in school and in surrounding communities.
This blog post contains images and details that some readers might find disturbing.
This has been a hard post for me to write. Partly because I still have trouble sometimes connecting to the experience; to really recognizing that the story I’m about to tell happened to me. And partly because it has felt so big that I want to make sure I do it justice, for myself, and for anyone who connects to what I have to share. Today I want to walk through the story of my heart surgery, the complications, and my recovery.
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