I was healthy and fit, a proponent of physical exercise, weighed myself daily with pleasing results, known for immodesty about how formerly and regularly I ran the Virginia 10 Miler in Lynchburg, and annually saw a reputable cardiologist.
In 2013, Dr. Robert S. Gibson, Professor of Cardiology, UVA, listened attentively to my heart and said, looking seriously, “Bob, your heart murmur has changed. I want you to see Dr. John Kern, one of our surgeons.”
Dr. Kern and his team worked as beautifully and rhythmically as the London Symphony orchestra renders Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream.
In 2013, the only surgical access to the heart at UVA was by “open heart surgery,” a vivid image of which I did not visit in my mind. Thank God, Dr. Kern and Dr. Kern’s team, my aortic valve was replaced, I felt no pain, and was soon home in the loving care of my wife.
Cardiac Rehabilitation soon returned the good feelings associated with physical exercise.
I was sent home with a “Gratitude Journal,” told to regularly record something for which I was thankful. It proved helpful.
The first page of the 5 by 8.5-inch spiral-bound journal asked these questions:
What are you thankful for and grateful for in your life?
What are the most important things in your life?
Might surgery change your perspective on life? If so, how?
How could surgery affect how you live or spend your time?
Can you imagine surgery as an opportunity?
After surgery, could you use your heart’s strength to live with more kindness, care, and gratitude?
I have the “Gratitude Journal” in front of me now. Its piercing questions, answered reflectively, turned out to be an important element of my full recovery. Prayers of family and friends were realistic sources of strength.
Once home, I was welcomed by a pleasant surprise gift from my wife, a recliner. The “Gratitude Journal” and the recliner were a good combination. Days ago, the recliner became inoperable. It was soon replaced but its occupant continues to count his blessings, “naming them one by one,” as he hums the old hymn with a thankful, healthy heart.
Two years ago, a medical school classmate phoned me with a prayer request: “Bob, like you, I’m having my aortic valve replaced at UVA. Please remember me in your prayers. I’m having the new procedure. It will all be done with catheters and without the outdated open heart method.” I was honored by his request and I sincerely complied. In a follow-up call, he assured me all went well.
Yes, I believe in prayer because I believe in God. Years ago, my wife had a “suspicious lump” in her breast. I called one of my Pathology professors for his recommendations. I remember how unexpectedly relieved I felt when he said, “I will pray for your wife.” Thankfully, no cancer was found in her biopsy.
Readers are invited to reflect on their own experiences, thoughts, and feelings about living meaningfully. This writing aims to encourage self-consideration rather than providing a model to be replicated.
“What are the most important things in your life?”
Most things in my life are unimportant, except for two: a synthetic aortic heart valve and a Medtronic pacemaker for bradycardia.
There are other things, but I hope I have not overvalued them: All Creatures Great and Small TV Show, Barclay Sheaks paintings, Perry Como’s Music, desktop computer, Dottie’s good cooking, and Rosie, our rescue dog, a small, quiet companion who, like her owners, is elderly and limps.
“(After surgery), could you use your heart’s strength to live with more kindness, care, and gratitude?”
My family, including the one I was born into, provides my happiest and my saddest moments. I’m thankful to have been born into a family that loved me, disciplined me, and kept me in their thoughts and prayers. I’m the only surviving member of my family of origin.
My wife of many years and I are blessed with four children, four grandchildren, and six great grandchildren. We number two dozen around the table on special occasions, happy events, unsurpassed. It is sad that misunderstandings sometimes prevent full attendance and happy family celebrations. From time to time, we have become small gatherings of those remaining compatible.
Yes, I could express more kindness, care, and gratitude. I could stop offering excuses when I disappoint others. I could listen more attentively instead of impatiently wanting to move on to my own interests.
Days ago, Warren Buffett thoughtfully answered questions during the televised annual Berkshire Hathaway shareholders’ meeting. Much of what he said, while drinking Coca-Cola, eating fudge, and recalling he never exercised, is noteworthy. But he was wrong when said “luck plays an important role in life.” My football coach was not wealthy, but he was wise and often delivered his wisdom loudly, as in yelling, “You make your own luck.”
Life is a gift. Even a long life is relatively short.
Buffett correctly said, “We live in the best time and best place in the history of the world.”
A meaningful life is limited only by our willingness to be decent and virtuous. We need to be good people with good intentions and associate with others who are ethical.
Everybody has failures. I have been blessed with good teachers, but my Master Teacher has been my failures. Learn from failures and look at the bright side of things, but don’t be satisfied with the superficial.
Enthusiasm and a fair-minded sense of humor make life more pleasant.
Happiness ultimately comes from doing what you are good at and enjoy doing. Fulfilling lifelong selfless goals can be a spiritually joyous experience.
Each person is the combination of body, mind, and spirit, as perceived by ancient Greek philosophers. Based upon the limitations of modern science, the body ordinarily dies shortly after cardiopulmonary function ceases.
Theologians tell us the spirit lives after death and remains alive eternally.
Living fully in the present according to some observers means, “I am where my shoes are.” If clothing defines living in the present, it is more accurate to say, “I’m living where my hat is.”
Age is a relevant risk factor in medical disorders. Neurologists are now proposing an important distinction between “biological age” and chronological age. By measuring biological markers (lab tests), it is possible to determine one’s biological age compared to their chronological age.
The research reported in a recent issue of Neurology notes its value in estimating age-related diseases, and unlike calendar age, biological age can be changed.
Waiting to be more clearly understood, I wonder if there is a “spiritual age” for each of us. One’s spiritual age would have its own markers.
Scripture teaches that humans are uniquely created by God to have both physical and spiritual aspects, enabling an intimate relationship with Him.
Humans have material and immaterial components. The body is tangible and temporal, while the soul, spirit, will, conscience, mind, and emotions are intangible and exist beyond the body’s lifespan, and are no less real than the material self.
Psalm 90, the oldest psalm, was written as a prayer by Moses in 1440 BC.
Moses’ prayer teaches us two things: 1. God’s nature is eternal, and humanity’s nature is fragile. 2. Our time on earth is short.
It is a rational certainty that our Creator knows our fragility and the brevity of our earthly existence. Throughout the Old and New Testaments of the Bible, God repeatedly reassures us of His Presence: “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, forthe LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” Deuteronomy 31:6 (KJV).
Moses highlights humanity’s sinful nature and shortcomings before God. “You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence.” Psalm 90:8.
Our lifespan, no matter how many years, is characterized by trouble and sorrow, but swiftly passes, and we depart into the existence of an afterlife.
“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12. Moses is not asking God to give us a Type A Personality. We are to use the ability given to us by God to make the most of each day with a heart of wisdom, enabling those with faith in God to live by the right priorities.
Robert S. Brown, MD, PHD a retired Psychiatrist, Col (Ret) U.S. Army Medical Corps devoted the last decade of his career to treating soldiers at Fort Lee redeploying from combat. He was a Clinical Professor of Psychiatry and Professor of Education at UVA. His renowned Mental Health course taught the value of exercise for a sound mind.