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William Nelson
Although I read all the updates as the notices arrive in my email, I haven't responded for quite a while due to a combination of events and, I'll admit, some laziness. The most interesting highlights came at the end of March and lasted into early April. I was concerned about a mild, but persistent pain in my left arm and jaw. It was much like a pain I felt 13-years ago, when I wound up with a stent insertion. This time, the pain level was moderate and not too troublesome during the day, when I had other stuff on my mind, but it kept me awake nights, wondering what it was trying to tell me.
I called my cardiologist's office and his nurse set up a checkup by a new (to our clinic) Nurse Practitioner. She said she didn't think it was a major problem, but that I should have a stress test to find out what's going on. I had to have a nuclear stress test, because I also have a pacemaker, inserted about 5-years ago. She set that up on Monday, March, 13th. My cardiologist was supposed to go over the results later that day, but one of his adult sons was very sick and wanted his dad. A week passed before the diagnosis. Although, I wasn't in imminent danger, the results weren't good. Several arteries indicated partial blockage. He said that test is about 85% accurate, but he wanted a more definitive result. As we'd done 13-years ago, we decided to pass off the surgery required for catheritization to his brother in a major Shreveport hospital. Our youngest son, Mike, drove up from Katy, TX to be with his mom during the operation. I had the procedure on the 30th of the month and wound up with a new stent in a different area than the first one. He said he took a close look at the first one and it's still doing fine. There was also a big surprise. They decided to keep me overnight to monitor how things were going. That also happened the first time around. As the nurse left, our daughter, Teresa, walked in, followed by her daughter, Amanda, and her daughter's daughter, Kennedy! Our daughter lives in Wauwatosa and our granddaughter and great-granddaughter live in Jackson, WI. They said they drove down to see for themselves if I was going to be OK. The surgeon came to check me out well into the afternoon. After a brief conversation and a few checks, he said I was good to go, but needed to check in with my regular cardiologist within two weeks. I told him I hoped I wouldn't need to see him again; he'd already put in his two stents worth.
It was pretty late on the 31st when we got home. Mary reminded me that our middle son's, Brad's, family was coming up that evening and would be staying in our guest room. They wanted to take us out to dinner on my 80th birthday, but called to be sure we didn't have other plans. That was before they knew I'd wind up in the hospital. He said they decided to take us out on the 1st because the restaurant wasn't open on Sunday. That's typical in this area for many restaurants. His wife and kids wouldn't all fit in our car, and we wouldn't all fit in their minivan, so she took the kids and Brad drove us in our car. I asked him the name of the restaurant and he said it was called the Loft. Never heard of it. I wasn't prepared for what came next. He pulled into an alley between two rows of old buildings in downtown Ruston. He stopped in the middle of the block and a lady came out from one of them. Brad said we should go with her, he'd already made the arrangements via his cell phone. She invited us into a freight elevator with two chairs and her, as elevator operator. I've been in a lot of freight elevators, but none with chairs and an operator. I told her, when I was a kid, all elevators had operators; usually dressed in a uniform. After she opened the doors, there was a drape across the opening. Mary and I were waiting as she pulled it open to a very large room, filled with about 30 of our friends and relatives. Not only our daughter and her girls, but our eldest son and his wife, Eric & Niki, who live in Eagle, WI, and one of one of Mary's cousins. She recently moved from Waukesha after her husband died, to Rosepine, LA to stay near her grandson. He and his son were the only two in the room I didn't recognize, but totally enjoyed talking to them. Mike's family and his wife, Julie's parents were there, as well as a retired mill superintendent I worked with for many years. I was totally surprised when they all yelled, "Surprise!" in unison. It's the first time in over 20-years all four of our kids were together with us at the same time. Eric was in the Air Force Reserves and was called up on 9/11, two months before Mike's wedding. He was sent to Afghanistan a few years later, when Brad was married. Some of the relatives wondered if Eric was for real! We spoke to him tonight and he certainly is. He retired from both his civilian career as a cop in Mukwonago and his overlapping job in the Air Force. That makes me feel old!
My dad died on the first day of spring in 1983, just after clearing the walks around their home on 36th Street, near Rohr Ave. He was 75 at the time and had many health issues for several years before that. I was surprised I made it beyond 75, but here I am after another decade. I still have a lot of projects planned and hope I'll live long enough to see them through. Time will tell.
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