Today is the last checkup with my cardiologist, the wonderful doctor who closed the hole in my heart in June. His speedy and caring work closed this whole chapter of my life, reassured me that there would be no more random strokes and clots in my brain.
No more ticking timebomb.
I set this appointment months ago, after my surgery, when I wondered what Autumn would be like for me. I wondered what being back at school would feel like, and how my recovery would be, and how much fiction writing I’d be able to get done. Would my imagination return?
I tried to make a good guess–October 2…a few weeks after school’s started, but before things got too insane. And I guessed I would have the time to make the trip to the doctor’s office on this date. It would be a beautiful day, I thought. The light would be golden this time of year. It would be a good day to close things out. It was a decision based on guesses.
Now it’s October 2. The last bridge, so to speak, in this recovery. My speech therapist said goodbye to me, and then my awesome neurologist said I didn’t need him anymore, either. I fully expect my cardiologist to wave goodbye, too.
And then, I’ll emerge, according to the doctors, fully, physically healed.
The psychological, emotional healing–it’s still in progress. The ground under my feet will not feel solid for a very very very long time, if ever.
Update: Well, it seems I’m not off my doctor’s patient roster yet. Got a test coming up, and then yearly visits thereafter.