I am still in Detroit, and the loss of the Olympic bid has a little perspective for me.
My brother has emerged from his surgery, and I am in awe of the medical profession. A heart re-route is such a terrifying prospect, but the doctors, anesthesiologists and nurses are like robots, methodically repairing the damage. They saw 7 blockages, harvested arteries and did the job in three grafts. Blood flow is good, and Mike is in ICU. There were more tubes and monitors than I could count. We said "good bye"at 6 am, and at 1pm Mike looked like a sci-fi experiment, safely recovering under a warming blanket. He was a good candidate- low weight, never smoked, good cholesterol, rare drinker. Sadly, the Joliat genes gave him gummy-plaque, and his coronary arteries were glad to play host. Now he has a new lease on life. All of us are uncomfortable in the knowledge that 2 uncles died, and 5 cousins have tested positive for this so far. We are looking for a bulk rate on the calcium scoring test. The folks in the surgical waiting area with us yesterday were more optimistic: they were feasting on mile-high nachos, with a bakery chaser. We went out and chose salads and gazpacho soups. I'm sure it is temporary insanity on our part, or the first day of the rest of our lives.
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