Three Years On.

The light rain on the roof and the half light of this Saturday morning made it very tempting to roll over and go back to sleep. However, it was like 5am on any other morning and the motivation remained strong. This morning was three years on from my major surgery that threatened to end my flying days…and maybe something more.

Three years ago, there was no half-light I suspect, rather spotlights focussed on my chest cavity as the surgeon carefully inserted titanium and Dacron where human tissue had once resided. Despite my new equipment, when I woke in the Intensive Care Unit, I was far removed from the Six Million Dollar man. I was a feeble form with nine tubes either inserting or removing some type of fluid. There were even wire probes protruding in case they need to give me an emergency “jump start”. It was all very surreal.

More to the point, it was the beginning of a very long road to recovery. As a young man I had been a State level athlete and run marathons – now I was limited to a 7-minute shuffle along hospital corridors and in time, the hallway of my home. Gradually the distance increased and I gained enough upper body strength to open windows without my son’s help.

The process of rehabilitation was one of the toughest journeys that I have taken and the challenges of those six months are too many to list here. Needless to say, the support of my family was critical as was the guidance of the health professionals. If there is one piece of advice I’d like to share, it is to do what you’re told.

Everyone has your well-being in mind, so follow their lead and follow it through to the end. The nurses, physios, surgeons and specialists all wish to see their labours succeed and you just need to comply, even when it hurts a little. Even in the immediacy of surgery, I saw patients defying their doctor’s requests to try and walk, or even just sit in a chair. Instead, as I walked the halls, I saw them just lying on their beds to the great frustration of those assigned to their care.

For me, three years on, I am as fit as can be expected of a 60-year old. Each day I am in the gym for a minimum of an hour and it pays dividends. In a recent stress ECG for the renewal of my pilot’s licence, I took the cardiologist’s treadmill to task and well exceeded the required level for my licence. And I still had more in the tank.

The real benefit is that I am fit to both fly and enjoy every other aspect of my life to its fullest and I have no intention of backing off. In hospital I remember the surgeon lamenting that for all the effort and resources, so many patients fall back to their old ways and end up on his operating table once again. Not me – once was enough!

So, as I celebrate this anniversary as I do every year, I am thankful. I am thankful that I am in a profession where my health is monitored and I am thankful that I live in a country where I was able to receive the required intervention. I am thankful for all of the skilled professionals, from nurse’s aides to surgeons. I am thankful for my family and for every one of my friends who were there to support me.

Today, I will reflect and then move on. And tomorrow? The gym will call again.