I cannot tell you very much about the operation, for I was heavily sedated. But obviously, I pulled through or else you wouldn’t be reading about it. I may have flirted with the Grim Reaper, but I gave him the boot.
“Not just yet,” I told the morbid specter.
In the days that followed my wife’s emergency, I was at her bedside, keeping a positive front. We shared the food from dietary. We greeted the medical staff. She napped. I read. My daughter was at our side and refused to leave. We slept at MGH. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it worked just fine.
I eventually brought her home to the comfort of her own home, and under strict orders to take it easy. I had to pull the broom out of her hands on one or two occasions. It didn’t take long for the same old rigmarole to catch up.
We’re already making plans for a golden anniversary to Disneyworld in two years with our grandchildren.
Writer and photographer Tom Vartabedian is retired from The Haverhill Gazette. He contributes this regular column.