Days like today give us opportunities to make choices. What to think. How to react. Since I’m pretty plugged in to social media compared to most 14 month olds, I’m seeing plenty of both.

Beneath it all, there’s this other choice. A choice that – whether we’re thinking about it or not – accompanies the others.

That choice: What to hope for.

It’s easy to hope for comfort and healing for the marathon victims and their families, for the safety and efficacy of our law enforcement officers, and for justice for the bad guys.

Here’s what I hope for that’s not so easy:

1 – Rage short and focused, not long and broad. Hate and anger are real. I’m not perfect, I feel them. But they are terrible things. Difficult to contain. It’s all too easy to lump whole groups of people in with the bad guys.

Religions and countries are not the bad guys. The bad guys are. They tried to make a difference with hate, and they got me with it. At least for today.

I feel what I feel, but if I hold on to the hate or let it spread, they win. I hope to let hate go.

2 – Act, don’t stew. Frustration and anger always lead to armchair quarterbacking, but rarely lead to action. I don’t mean I need to take action in this particular situation as I think the Feds wouldn’t appreciate it much, but I do have a choice today. I can make a difference.

I can do something today that makes people’s lives better. People are hurting on the news. They deserve help, but today I can’t help them.

People are hurting quietly everywhere I look. Their stories are not on TV. I can make a difference for them. I hope I do.

3 – Remember. I will remember today. I’ll remember what happens. I’ll remember the choices people make: What they choose to say, what they choose to do, and what they choose not to. I will remember what I do as well.

But will I remember to do something tomorrow that makes the world a better place? Will I remember next week? Next month?

The spirit of making a difference strikes many of us when the day reminds us that we should. Many days don’t. I hope I remember this, remember to make a difference on days when nothing reminds me to do so.

I hope I remember. If I don’t, I hope you remind me.

First off, enjoying my vaca here in Flaahrida. Evidently vacationing at the G-parents’ house is a bonus for the parents since you can’t give me to just any babysitter. Even though I’m a treat and a half, you gotta be trained up right to watch me.

Been enjoying the pool and the beach. Had a nice visit from fetal cardiac intervention brother Eli who lives here in Dixie. And went to my first Sox game. Only spent 3 innings in First Aid cooling off. It gets hot down here!

It was nice, though, heading in to First Aid and just telling them that I’m not just any schvitzy kid. 30 seconds of the story and they rolled out the couch for dad and me to stay just as long as we pleased. A little A/C and I was ready to go back out and see the Sox blow the game at the end. Do they do that?

The red carpet treatment at First Aid caught my attention. I have to say, there are few advantages to having a heart that is, shall we say, repair prone. But that doesn’t mean there are no advantages.

Just recently, when I went to the hospital because of a nasty respiratory infection. There must have been 30 kids in the waiting room. Then I heard the triage nurse say, “I looked at this kid’s history. It just earned him a free pass into a private room. No sitting with sick kids for this little guy.”

This got me to thinking, “Who are you callin’ little, sistah?” And just after that, “How else can I cash in on the science experiment cranking away inside my chest?”

A few things come to mind:

- Let’s say someone has something I want. Handful of cash. Hoodsie. Yodeling pickle. Anything. I could pull a full on Fred G. Sanford, “Elizabeth, this is the big one…I’m comin’ to join ya, honey!” People might actually take me seriously and give up the goods.

- Will probably win karaoke contests if I sing Heart Attack by Oliva Newton-John. A) It’s such a quality tune. B) Who’s gonna vote against me?

- If I ever get dumped, I’ll be pretty used to dealing with the broken heart.

- But then I’ll get more chicks because of a veritable cornucopia of pickup line possibilities available just to me:

- “Is there a helipad nearby, or is my heart just taking off? No, wait, I think it’s SVT. Anyone have any ice?” (Heart moms will get this one. Sorry normal cardiac people.)

- “I think I might turn to a life of crime, and make it my mission to steal your heart. But before I do, what’s your blood type, and can we get you an echo?”

- Me: “You could get arrested, you know.”
- Babe: “What for?”
- Me: “Stealing my heart. But then when the cops find out what you stole, they’ll just laugh at you.”

Endless possibilities. Each one funnier and more charming than the last. Watch out, ladies.

- This whole threat of ‘failure to thrive’ should land me some serious cookies, candy bars, and ice cream for the foreseeable future. Who’s gonna say I shouldn’t eat them? Talkin’ to you, Michelle Obama. (1. This will apply if I ever start eating solid food. 2. FYI, I’m gaining weight slowly but fine on the feeding tube.)

- In kindergarten when everyone else is learning to draw hearts, I’ll be the only one to sketch and name all of the valves correctly. Gold star for Ari!

- If I lose a fight in the school yard, the other kid just beat up on the heart kid. Nice work, tough guy! If I win a fight, someone just got their ass kicked by the heart kid. Few other people have this advantage. If you want to know what it’s like, ask any member of the Charlotte Bobcats.

These are all the advantages I can think of now. If you come up with anything, let me know. Back to the pool.

Later peoples.

Oprah: Ari, what’s shakin’? Where you been? What you doin’?

A: Since the mitral valve dilation, been pretty good. Essentially quiet life. Been gaining weight slowly but steadily except for the 3 week RSV diet. RSV is bad bad bad for kids like me who already take 6 medicines to help my heart and keep my lungs clear. Because, when you need meds like that, what you really want is a lung infection, right? At least now I know what it feels like to be an 80 year old chain smoker. Something to look forward to.

Since then, pretty quiet. Still not eating much by mouth, but when I’m not sick, been keeping food down pretty well. To give you a sense of what the mitral valve dilation did for me, before I went in I was throwing up 3 or 4 times a day. Ate no solid foods. Nothing by mouth. No toleration of high calorie formula. We overnighted at the Barf-o-Rama hotel.

Now up a little on formula calories. Eating a little solids. I throw up here and there, but not every day.

And, get this, my breathing rate per minute while sleeping was 60+ breaths before the mitral valve. Now it’s more like 30+. So big big difference in cardiac function.

Does my heart look “good.” Well, can’t really say that with ventricular dysfunction and a busted pulmonary valve, but it’s on the better side for me. Good-ish. Fine-like. Acceptable-asterisk.

Timothy: Ari, do you prefer sweet or sour pickles? The world wants to know!

Yodeling.

You think I made this up for the mailbag, or do we have actual family history with the Yodeling Pickle? Hmmm…

Eating is Overrated: Ari, since you are the authority on everything, I will ask you. My husband and I are arguing over whether it would be acceptable for me to order a prime rib in a restaurant. The problem is that my GI system doesn’t work, so if I swallowed the meat I would vomit, thus wasting the food. My opinion is that I could simply chew the meat, and then discreetly spit it out without swallowing, (but still wasting). His opinion is that I should be happy sipping on water and watching him enjoy steak or pizza or whatever, and then use the money we save by not ordering me food to do an activity that I can participate in. Who is right?

A: Lemme get this straight. You can’t digest food, but you want prime rib, and your husband said no? Okay…

Go to the restaurant and order the prime rib, but bring your dog as she’s a nice girl. Chew and enjoy, then give the “softened” prime rib to the dog. Food no longer wasted. Problem solved there. Then ask nice doggie to whack your husband across the punim. That way he gets the bitch slap he deserves.

And justice for all.

Julie: Ari, when chipping to an uphill pin, do you club up?

A. Being only in the 1^st percentile on the growth chart, my short game is very good. Meanwhile, I play 1 club golf as, with my skill, don’t really need the other 13. So the question is moot. Sorry can’t be of more assistance.

Erin: Question from Kane: “How you eat that pickle without barfin, man.?”

Army training, sir!

That’s a fact, Jack. See you in Italy.

Linda and Nancy: So AriMan, who’s your pick for Best Picture this year?

Is Ishtar nominated?

Not sure about the other categories, but Elmo Ducks is a shoe in for best musical.

Hilary: Have to know – boxers or briefs?

A: Depends.

Cris: What are your thoughts on politics? I hear rumor that in about 34 years you’re planning on running for President. Is there any truth in that??

A: My schedule is pretty tight. Not sure if there are openings in 34 years. Will check with my admin team and get back to you. Plus, not only am I the president of the fake valve club already, I’m also a client.

Terisa: Hubby says send JW to public school when he’s old enough, I say private. Might have reached a compromise in a charter school down the street. Hubby says he should go public b/c he did and he’s fine and he got a good education. I say private b/c parents tend to invest more in their child when paying out of pocket so therefore kids tend to behave better (not as disruptive and prob not as many guns due to parents actually being involved in kid’s life) so teachers are not having to discipline 1/2 the class hour, therefore better education. What are your thoughts? And do want to go private or public?

A: Stirring the pot with a little education debate, ay Terisa? Everyone that meets me says, if I were theirs, they’d home school because they’d miss me too much.

I’ve met Hubby so not so sure that’s the greatest argument for the public school system, but I’d say, with the utmost certainty, go with my answer on the underwear question.

Nancy: What are your favorite things to do to pass each day?

A: My favorite thing to pass each day? Poop! (Oh, to do to pass each day…will think about it and get back to you.)

Pat: No question, just want to tell you, you are soooooo cute……..

A: Awww…thanks Pat. How you doin’?

Taylor: Are you excited about your baby sister yet? Probably not- but watch out! I so love seeing new pics of you any old time, you amazing little warrior.

A: Still not so sure I have a grasp on the whole little sister thing yet. I hear babies whine and stink and puke all day. How uncivilized.

Kim: You’re the cutest pickle muncher I’ve ever seen!!!

A: Coming from someone that has a pickle muncher fetish, this means a lot, Kim.

Deborah and Karen: Love the sweater! What do you like for entertainment? Do you watch PBS or Disney? Watch Big Bang theory? What is your secret of how you get cuter and cuter every time you get your picture taken?

A: More of a Netflix guy. Battlestar Galactica. Friday Night Lights. Weeds. Prison Break. Arrested Development. Youtube, I’d have to say the Elmo Ducks song, Elmo song, Elmo and Katy Perry. Elmo Elmo Elmo!

Ruth: Do you like NASCAR & if so, who’s your pick for the Daytona 500 on Sunday? I’m a Tony Stewart fan.

Doug: Two questions. I don’t want to put you on the spot BUT what is your favorite book and your favorite author?

Jill: Ari’s gotta be pulling for the hottie Danica. And Doug, totally a loaded question…

A: Danica = meow. Rainmaking Conversations by Dada. And Jill, I got your totally loaded right here…

First, this is a pic in the ER from a recent visit to the Children’s. I got RSV a few weeks ago despite getting the vaccine every month and it threw me for a loop. Home now and doing much better.

It’s been busy for the last month, so haven’t had time for an update. Meanwhile, people ask me questions all the time. Let’s have some fun with that. Introducing…Ari’s Mail Bag.

In the comments below, ask me questions. What’s up with me. Politics. World affairs. TV shows. Celebrity gossip. Dating advice. Sports…anything you like. Sky’s the limit. I’ll answer all I can, hopefully sometime this weekend.

Until then, peoples…

I wasn’t the worst player on my high school golf team, but I was nowhere near the best. 50/50 I’d club a drive up the middle for 230 yards, or I’d shank it dead right into the woods.

Either way, Coach Hennessey would say, “Some days chicken, some days feathers.” It worked in any case. See the beauty of it?

Yesterday was chickenfeathers.

The echo looked OK. Showed some improvement, and, for shiz, this is what we’re looking for. Better than bad is good, right? We couldn’t tell the status of his left atrial pressure via echo (feathers!). His pulmonary hypertension reading was lower than before (chicken!), but still not great (feathers!). This takes a while to get better typically anyway if, indeed, it’s going to get better, so headed in the right direction.

In any case, we’re home. Chicken!

Since the cath, Ari hasn’t thrown up, and this is the biggest clinical sign that his mitral valve needed to be dilated to improve his cardiac function to a temporarily workable level. It’s wide open for the time being. Chicken fricassee! Everyone is glad he’s doing well, but we all hoped it would be a even little better. Let’s just hope it’s enough to gain some weight and kick the can down the road.

For now, it’s back to doing what we do. So let’s all join in and sing in time…

…I keep a close watch on this heart of mine.

And the verdict is…It’s Pajama Time! Besides that, no news on how his heart is doing. The procedure is trying and he’s taken a few days to settle out, but he’s in a better mood now. Obviously.

Plan is echo in the next few days to see what’s up. Until then, we won’t know. This, of course, drives us bananas.

We need some solid improvements by echo to be in an OK place. His right side pressure needs to be lower. And we need to get a sense that his left atrial pressure is lower, which you usually can’t measure except in the cath lab, but they put a new hole in Ari’s heart that can give us a bit of a sense of how that’s doing, but not much.

You can think of both of these pressure readings like a car and RPMs. There’s a green zone where we all drive every day, a yellow zone you shouldn’t drive in for long, and a red zone that you can, indeed, drive in, but after a while you’ll blow the engine.

Ari was driving in the red zone before the cath. He looked fine on the outside, but ultimately it’s unsustainable. The engine can only take it so long.

Unlike a car, however, we don’t know what, exactly, his green zone territory is. All we know is it’s not where he was a few days ago. Not exactly bleak, but we need some real movement.

More info as we get it.

Meantime, when the world goes bananas, get in your pajamas.

Whahappen?

Conversations with 5 senior attending cardiologists and we’re still trying to figure this out.

People have this nifty capacity for interpreting the same situation differently. For example, I left Ari in CICU just before 1 a.m. Woke up at 6 and called to see how he was doing. Much better, his nurse said. Had a quiet night, and his numbers look good.

“Though,” she says, “he was up to his old tricks. Was rolling around in bed and one of his IVs fell out. He’s no worse for the wear. Oh well.”

To which I replied, “You mean around 10:30 p.m. he reached up, grabbed ahold of one of the IVs in his scalp, and tore it forcefully out. Then, after we stopped the Kill Bill-like blood gushing out of the side of his head, I held him (which is no easy feat with all the wires and a head geyser) until he settled out. Then we washed his hair and changed his bed and he was no worse for the wear.”

“Oh, I guess you were here for that.”

Yeah, I guess I was.

Meanwhile, the upshot is two wolves are battling. One wolf is the good wolf, fighting for better heart function, and time to heal and remodel. The other is the bad wolf, with his high atrial pressures, lack of heart relaxation, failed valves, and pulmonary hypertension threatening Ari’s survival.

Question is, “Which wolf wins?”

In the cath lab yesterday Ari was “fragile,” “weak,” and “unpredictable.” Managing him was “delicate.” He required a lot of “support” to keep him stable throughout the procedure.

Once again, Ari looks good in the showroom, but under the hood not so much.

As one of Ari’s doctors, said, “Ari’s heart is very sick.” We love him, though he’s about as sunny as Superstorm Sandy. He makes this guy look like Tony Robbins.

Right after the cath, even Wayne, who is typically on the positive side when there’s reason to be positive, was resoundingly noncommittal on where Ari’s path will take him.

At different points yesterday we heard everything from…

“I bet he’ll get better and we’ll kick the can down the road. Then he’ll be bigger, his heart should remodel well, and we’ll fix his pulmonary valve at some point when he’s more robust. Then he lives his life.” (Good wolf.)

To…

“He may need a new pulmonary valve now-ish, and maybe tinker around with a few other things while we’re in there. He may just need perfect valves for a chance to improve.” (Temporary wolf stalemate.)

To…

“His heart has trouble relaxing, and his pulmonary hypertension is back, so we should make sure we keep transplant in mind as a real option, and perhaps even list him. After all, he has dysfunction in his left ventricle, his right ventricle, and his left atrium, which is covered in scar tissue as well. It may never relax. And three of his four valves are non-native, one valve has completely failed, he’s had 2 major open heart surgeries already, and he’s not yet 11 months old. (Bad wolf.)

In other words, “I think he’ll get better,” to “Let’s list him for a transplant.”

Well, that clears it up.

What we know for sure is he was fragile during the cath. For example, his heart stopped cold at one point, and they had to give him chest compressions to get it started. (In our debriefs, one doctor felt this was important to mention, others didn’t. I’d say I’d put that on the note-to-self, bring-it-up list. But what do I know. I’m not a cardiologist.)

His mitral valve stenosis gradient was reading 8 on echo. 8 would be characterized as “moderate” stenosis. Via cath – which is much more accurate than echo – it was reading 13, which is “severe.” You might think, “bad wolf” and you’d be right, but now it’s reading zero, and the valve is functioning properly. From bad to good.

We’ve neutralized one enemy for a time.  Is it enough?  And, as they put it, “We don’t put Melody valves here, so those numbers don’t mean what they usually mean. Well, we don’t know.”

His pulmonary hypertension was back at “full systemic” pressure. This is bad, and not sustainable long-term, though there’s hope it’ll recede again in the coming weeks/months. Post dilation of the valve it was unchanged, as was his left atrial pressure, which was reading 20. 5 to 9 is normal. Below 15 is typically manageable, above 15 not sustainable.

One doctor said, “But we released a flood gate. That can make things worse for a heart before it gets used to all this blood flowing around. Sometimes.” Cue Zep: Mean old levee, taught me to weep and moan…

Given the difficult cath and sick heart, they decided to leave the breathing tube in and send us to CICU instead of the floor.

For the first several hours he looked like hell. Eventually we extubated him. This went fine, though he needed narcotics for discomfort and he wouldn’t settle out. Rough 6 hours or so.

Eventually he settled out and relaxed. His heart rate, blood pressure, breathing, and oxygen saturation improved to a pretty good point where he was stable. (Good wolf! Well, maybe…) He actually looked improved, but tired, and is already smiling like his usual self.

Except for the fun of yanking the IV out of his head, not much happened late.

The plan is to move him to the floor today as he’s not acutely in danger, keep him and watch him, figure out a new medication plan, and send us home when he’s stable in a few days assuming no curveballs.

We haven’t yet ruled out Ari’s swim lesson on Saturday. He started them last week.

We’re still left, however, with the question, “Which wolf wins?” Well…

A long time ago, a young Navajo boy was brooding over his poor performance in his first hunt with the men of the tribe. The brooding lasted through the night and into the next day, when his father, seeing his son sulking, sat down with him.

The father said, “Inside of us all there are two wolves. From the time we are born until the time we move on from this life, they battle. One wolf is Evil. It is regret, sorrow, greed, hate, inferiority, procrastination, false pride, misery, deceit, hubris, self-pity, guilt, anger, and bitterness. And pulmonary hypertension, high left atrial pressures, atrial and ventricular non-compliance, free PR, valve failure, failure to thrive, and heart failure.”

“The other is Good. It is love, joy, kindness, abundance, loyalty, courage, honor, politeness, optimism, unselfishness, compassion, empathy, warmth, harmony, and hope. And low atrial pressure, relaxing atria and ventricles, pulmonary vasculature relaxation, easy breathing, strong cardiac function, weight gain, swim lessons, and peek-a-boo.”

The young boy went away and thought about his father’s words. Later, he came back and asked, “Father, which wolf wins?”

His father replied, “The one you feed.”

I wish it were this simple. What can I say? It’s not so easy to feed the good wolf all the time. Yesterday we were intent on helping the bad wolf pack on a few pounds.

We’re thankful to have a lot of love and support, and this fabulous little dude named Ari who needs to grow, learn to swim, fish, ski, and golf. He needs girls (if that’s his thing), college, love, kids, grandkids, retirement, a condo in Boca, and sunrises on the beach with his old lady.

Lots of reasons to help us to stay the course.

And feed the right wolf.

Action Stations, Action Stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill.

Times change. Foreign policy evolves.

The blockade worked for a while, but intelligence suggests that the enemy is gathering, and in possession of weapons of mass destruction. Possession of weapons of mass destruction is an act of war. Boston Children’s Hospital forces are thus preparing to invade.

After progressing nicely for a while, Ari’s weight has been flat for a month. In the middle of the last month he had his first stomach bug and survived well enough (though the washing machine took a beating, and we can’t watch the movie Bridesmaids anymore), but his weight hasn’t progressed since.

His breathing is a little faster than it has been, and he throws up (not spit up, we’re talking straight-up hangover-like heaving), now several times a day despite measures to keep the ship steady. He’s not taking any food by mouth – milk or solids – and never gets hungry.

Mind you, all of this evidence is circumstantial. He could have a twitchy stomach. He could be a slow recovery from the bug. His formula may simply not agree with him, though it is pre-digested (ewww…).

We don’t know because our weapons inspectors have not had complete, unfettered access to cardiac weapons storage sites for a while. The borders are closed. If we want to see what’s going on, we have to go in.

And in we’re going, weapons free. Maybe George Bush had it right…if you know the enemy is going to attack, might as well get in there and get them first before they get any stronger.

The plan is to go in on January 7 to look around and see what’s happening, and shoot any enemies we come across. The most likely target is the mitral valve. If you remember correctly, Ari has a Melody valve in his mitral position, and had a 2.7 millimeter fenestration put in his heart, partly so we could access the valve in the cath lab for dilation.

Since Ari is only the 5^th person in the world to have a Melody valve in the mitral position (it’s intended to be a pulmonary replacement valve…it’s not FDA indicated for use as a mitral valve), it’s not an insignificant procedure to balloon it. Indeed, it’s not an insignificant procedure to balloon any valve, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

By the way, it’s not that the valve is necessarily going bad. You may remember that babies grow, and inanimate objects don’t. (How’s that for a biology lesson.) So he’s getting bigger and his heart is, we think, pumping more volume with more force, but the valve is still the same diameter. It hasn’t grown with him, so it may simply need to be right sized.

Imagine spraying the lawn with the hose and an everyday pistol grip nozzle. You turn up the water flow. What do you get? More resistance at the nozzle, and more spray. You can hear the spray, too.

During an echo, you can “hear” the spray as well. It’s called a gradient. The noisier the gradient, the more resistance at the bottleneck. If you widen the bottleneck, the flow comes faster, the spray goes away, and the pump doesn’t have to work as hard to get the volume of flow it’s trying to achieve.

At the last echo, while his heart looked spectacular, there was, indeed a gradient across the valve.

Thus the desire to dilate it.

Perhaps if we do that, he’ll tolerate food better, breathe easier, and start growing again.

Then again, it may be the busted pulmonary valve. It was busted last time we looked, and we’re pretty sure it didn’t magically fix itself. Maybe that’s it.

Maybe his pulmonary hypertension is getting worse again. Can’t know that until we get to the cath lab.  Perhaps the problem is that his left ventricle is not relaxing. There’s nothing we can do if that’s the case short of waiting for it to get better or transplant, so we’re hoping that ain’t it.

We might also find out his heart is fine(ish), and shoot no enemies. It could just be a coinkydink that he has twitchy stomach or needs a new formula. However, just like Dubbayah, we can’t take that risk.

So we are where we are, gathering at the border for a strike. Unless you hear different, prepare for news somewhere around Jan 7.

Condition one is set. All decks report ready for action.

Since writing Guardian in the Night, I’ve been asked a number of times to explain the concept of Fudoshin. I learned the concept originally from my martial arts teacher, Master Daniel Cohen, who taught me much of its meaning.

Unpack Fudoshin and you find flavors of ‘immovable mind’, ‘immovable heart’, and ‘immovable spirit’.

Gandalf and the Balrog explain more.

2:33 minutes in to the video: “You cannot pass.”

When Erica and I learned of Ari’s life threatening heart condition at our 18 week ultrasound, we faced a decision. We chose to fight. Fight to the end. With the support of our family and friends, immovable mind we had; immovable spirit we prayed would come.

3:10: “YOU SHALL NOT PASS”

Ari’s Ross procedure. Out of our hands now. The doctors and nurses took over from here. Wielders of the flame of Aror, they stood at the bridge and stared down the Balrog.

If we’re lucky, many of us have to do this only once. Or at least only once in a while. Somehow the doctors and nurses do it every day. This takes a rare and special quality.

Immovable heart.

3:38: You give everything you have, and you think you got him. Your tank now completely empty, you turn to leave, but with great vengeance and furious anger, the Balrog counterstrikes.

Emergency mitral valve surgery needed, with no good options for a kid with seemingly no reserve left. And then, after surgery, Ari himself is the last line of defense. He had but one weapon left to wield.

FUDOSHIN!

We can only do so much. The doctors and nurses can only do so much. But that little guy?

Immovable spirit.

4:17 forward: This is how I imagine Ari in his battle after his mitral valve surgery from Thursday June 21 to Saturday June 23.

With no one else left to fight the enemy, Ari takes up his sword.

And attacks.

Ari, of course, is not the only one who has done this. All these little warriors fighting for their lives. They have their families and their care givers, but at some point they all face their Balrog alone. They do so with a spirit most of can scarcely fathom.

As they fight, they teach. Master Cohen introduced me to meaning of Fudoshin.

Ari has filled in the rest.

Things I’m thankful for:

Mommy and daddy love Toddler Tunes on Pandora as much as I do. 24/7 baby.

People think it’s cute when I fart. This will last forever.

We can all relive Bobcat Goldthwait in all his 80’s glory on Youtube whenever we want. (Would you believe he makes dark, serious movies now? Who woulda thunk…)

Cougars like Katy Perry and Miley Cyrus. (And they are thankful for me.)

The Medtronic Corporation. May they keep making new and better heart valves.

I can just cry when conversation bores me. Works great to change things up. You should try it at your next high school reunion.

Rubber ducky, ‘cause he’s the one.

Deep thoughts, by Jack Handy.

My parents change my clothes when I puke. I shall bring them to all parties when I am in college.

Berserk hippos.

I’m me, ‘cause there’s only one thing that I know how to do well, and, I’ve often been told that you only can do what you know how to do well and that’s be you. Be what you’re like. Be like yourself.

The wonderfully delicious smell of baby formula. Nummy numm numm…

Really good health insurance.

I don’t have to spend 3 hours on the phone just to get a prescription refill from lovely mail order pharmacies. The really good health insurance people think it is somehow a good idea to make us use these instead of the nice, efficient local people. Dealing with mail order pharmacies is awesome. Like a colonoscopy. Every month. 3 or 4 times.

The Fonz.

I have yet to see a series of those snarky e-cards on Facebook about congenital heart defects. Not sure exactly how that would be funny. Then again, if it could be funny, I’d probably come up with it.

Love and support of family, friends, and even strangers, without whom I wouldn’t have made it this far.

All the doctors, nurses, and care professionals who have gone the distance for me.

Being home for Thanksgiving with family.

Having Boston Celtics Chestpump Guy, a.k.a. Suitcoat Santa, over for Thanksgiving today. No joke.

For my echo last week. Wayne said my heart looked “spectacular.” You know, for me, busted pulmonary valve and all.

Steve Guttenburg movies. All of them.

Happy Thanksgiving. Later peoples.