28 May 2023 — 1624 mdt

A quiet note on the return of Flathead Memo

By James Conner

The short version: after Memorial Day, I will begin low frequency posting at Flathead Memo. I’m already commenting on Twitter at jrcflatheadmemo.

The longer version: On 16 March, I had triple bypass heart surgery. Given my age and infirmities (I’m diabetic and on kidney dialysis), I did not expect to survive. But I did.

I certainly did not expect to survive without brain damage, however mild. But I did.

Whatever the cause of my good fortune, I rolled the dice and won. Having the surgery, incidentally, was an easy decision. Without it, I now would be dead.

I did expect a long, complicated recovery — and that’s what I’m experiencing.

I returned home last week following two months in Immanuel Lutheran’s skilled nursing facility while I regained enough strength to function at home safely. During that convalescence, I was sent to the emergency room seven times, readmitted to the hospital twice, and twice examined by an ear, nose, and throat surgeon.

I lost 15 percent of my body weight. I’m back to what I weighed in my thirties when I ran three to five miles a day, but I’m not as strong.

Still, I survived, and now, although I have many more weeks of exercise and treatment before I’m fully recovered, I’m well on the mend, regaining strength and getting things done.

I’ve already renovated one bathroom.

And I’m out and about the town (haven’t painted it yet) buying hardware, food, medicine, and (next week) petunias, peppers, and tomatoes.

My thanks to the doctors, nurses, therapists, and the rest of the medical crew who saved my life and steered me down the road to recovery.

And my warmest, most heartfelt thanks to my family and friends. They stood by me, helping with matters large and small, making me smile and laugh when my spirits sagged and the world seemed to be darkening. I wouldn’t be writing this were it not for their steadfast support and kindness.

By summer’s end, I expect to be back to blogging on a near daily basis.

Someday, my fires will dim and Flathead Memo, which I started in 2006, will go dark. But that day will be a long time coming. There is much to be done, much that I can do, much that I will do, guided by the spirit of the closing lines of Tennyson’s Ulysses:

Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.