My Procession

Lub,dub. Lub, dub. Lub, dub is my mantra and the march that sets the measured pace of my life. As I become more anxious the song plays quickly and when I sleep the song quietly becomes a hymn.

Lub, dub, lub dub. For 45 years, I ignored this procession of beats. I don’t know why, but I thought no matter what I said, no matter how many things failed me in life, the sounds of my heart would always remain. Surely, the machine inside my body would never do me wrong. That was before the clot clinging to my heart detached and mercilessly attacked and cut off the blood supply to a part of my brain.

Heartbreak couldn’t have been worse.

Now, I can’t feel my left side from my mouth to my feet, and unfortunately eating has become a community project. Being the senior vice president of an affluent oil company hasn’t been able to help me, that is, aside from my medical expenses. I must say that I am a bit embarrassed. Family, friends, and colleagues come to see me here at the hospital, and I am not in my usual position of power. It’s not a matter of walking into a room full of executives feeling like a million bucks and demanding results for my firm. Basic functions of life are no longer basic for me. I can’t walk on my own, I can’t shower on my own, and my grandkids think I’m playing when I can only smile with half my face.

What must they be thinking of me? Are they ashamed of me? Do they think I’m a cripple? Will I ever be the same again? Martha, my wife, holds my left hand thinking that if she were to just provide a memorable touch, I would be able to feel again. I can’t feel her grasp, but I do notice her warmth. I feel vulnerable and suddenly ask them all to leave. Whether I’ll ever regain function of my left being again remains to be seen. But lying in my bed, alone, without the noise of the thriving world to distract me, I listen.

Lub, dub. Lub, dub. What a beautiful, steady sound. I imagine an aria with soaring strings rhythmically gushing forward the fuel of my life. Its metronome is persistent and thankfully ever-present. I yearn to hear its song forevermore.