In a couple of weeks it will be two months since my surgery. My chest scar and left arm scar are still there, of course, and have taken to a long phase of an enriched red colour. The cardiac surgeon seemed content with the progress, but I am a little surprised at the continued redness. Of course, how would I know? I have never had this happen before. Every once in a while the incisions will remind me that they are there – a sort of very mild “don’t forget about me” sort of pain, which seems to come at the time and place of some other force’s choosing.

The same goes for the pain in the sternum - every once in a while it will produce a very minor ache, but I have not had to take Tylenol for weeks. In the early days I thought I would become a Tylenolhead, but fortunately that did not happen. Maybe it is just thinking about it, but today seems like a day when the thing wants to act up a bit.

One of the things that I was warned about as a possible side effect of surgery was depression. I initially dismissed this worry, as I have never in my understanding of the word, suffered from depression. So I was surprised to have a visitor. I have been suffering from a low level background feeling of angst or worry about health, job, money, state of the planet, relationships, cats, dog, exercise, stupid letters written by now dead bishops from a church that I do not even belong to, online Globe and Mail comments posts, too much rain, not enough rain, housework, yard work, riding movers, the smartness of Ontario’s payments to Samsung, taxes, and other stuff. (Strangely I am not depressed about the Woman Who Claims to be Our Member of Parliament – she always brings a smile to my face) . I am either suffering from a moderate background depression (sort of Charcoal Puppy versus Black Dog) or it is the first signs of becoming a cranky old man. It is a bit like being in Kinburn and looking at the night sky: it is dark, but not Algonquin Park dark, as the lights of Ottawa and even Arnprior are making their presence known. That is the Charcoal Puppy.

I am lucky in that I hang out with some spiritual minded and smart people that I can meet up with most nights of the week. Going there makes a big difference. I am grateful and thankful for all that I have been given, but it is still interesting how this rumbling malaise IS there. Again, I am thankful for the lesson, as it gives me the chance to journey in the steps of others.

Another thing that still surprises me is the fatigue. Today I got up and made coffee and breakfast for my wife and myself, took the beagle out for a very short walk, then went for a gentle 2 K walk myself, came home, made some work related (keeping oar in water) phone calls, went via car with the beagle to get a chai, came home, made a sandwich for lunch and then I had to take a nap. The point is that the morning was not that strenuous and yet it tired me out.

There are two things that I want to do. The first is getting on my bicycle. The magic date, after some research, has proven to be two months after my operation which makes it April 23rd. (I would sneak out earlier but my wife who is caregiver / cardiac supervisor would not approve. She is away this weekend, but if I went for bike ride the cats would squeal) . There is a bit of an advantage for delaying the big ride. I am still putting aside money for each day that I do not ride to the African Caregiver Team, which includes the very green first responders, educators, medicine providers and others (check out the Bicycles 4 Humanity Ottawa link on the right)

The next thing on my list is to get the kayak in the water, but it looks like that is not going to happen until May Two Four Weekend. At least the water will be above death temperature. The kayak thing is going to be tough to delay though – I think that I may go out as soon as I here the first loon calling. I will just stroke gently.

So I still maintain that I am one very lucky person. Get rid of the fatigue and keep the Charcoal Puppy on her leash and I will be better than ever. And I just thought of this – puppies don’t like bikes and don’t like kayaks.