Opening My Heart (40 page)

It’s been two years now.

We got a puppy. On purpose I didn’t choose a lapdog or a purse pooch. Toby is a big, high-energy border collie and shepherd mix who needs lots of exercise. Intuitively, I knew that by fulfilling his needs, I would be fulfilling mine. He and I walk miles of city streets, explore its green spaces, and hike rugged country trails. We run together, he alongside me, stopping now and again to look up and check on me.
You can do it
, he seems to say, egging me onward, stronger, faster, longer. And when I occasionally need a reminder to be grateful and enjoy each moment, he shows me how and reminds me of my life’s purpose.

For years I lived my life, knowing it could be over in a heartbeat. My heart is fixed and healthy now, but I still live with that sense of urgency. This journey has brought me renewed health, a greater appreciation for each day, and the discovery that the set-points
for age and weight may be constant, but it’s possible to raise your
happiness
set-point. I know I did.

And yes, in retrospect, I guess I did have one of those sought-after “near-death” experiences. I went as close to the edge as you can go and made it back to tell the tale. I didn’t find out whether there’s life after death, only that there is life
before
death, and I want to live it to the fullest. Yes, I still lose my temper at times, sink into mindlessness, don’t meditate or exercise enough, and have a few pounds to lose, but when I get stressed out, my friends, family – and especially my children – keep me in check. Like the other day, I yelled at Max about his messy room – unmade bed, clothes on the floor, wads of used hockey tape, rotting apple cores, etcetera, etcetera. “This place is a pigsty!”

“Well,
you
would know,” I thought I heard him mutter under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Chill, Mom. It’s not open-heart surgery.”

The kid’s got a point.

And when I turned fifty and was feeling both joyful and a touch morose, Harry turned to me and said in his level-headed way, “You’ve lived half your life, Mom.”

If I make it to one hundred in good health, what a gift that will be, but I am willing to forego fewer days in exchange for a natural, dignified end when my time comes.

Ivan wanted to throw me a big birthday bash (not surprisingly, Ivan doesn’t do surprises), but what shindig could top open-heart surgery? I already got the best gift.

And yes, I still worry a lot about the health care system, but I believe the vision of quality health care for all is possible. The problems are fixable with the resources we have. It is our expectations that have to be brought in line.

I am lucky. I have no complaints about the health care I received, only praise. Many would claim that I feel that way because I received special treatment: I was an insider, was treated in a world-class hospital, had a brilliant surgeon, expert nurses, a posse of protectors, and a close circle of supportive friends and family. Nothing whatsoever can be concluded about the health care system based on my singular experience and I’m the first to admit I was fortunate – even privileged – but isn’t what I received what everyone deserves? It shouldn’t require fortune, luck, money, or connections to get what I got – not when it comes to health care. Why can’t everyone have great health care?

This is what I still don’t understand: why can’t we make sure that every human being gets what they need, whether it’s open-heart surgery, cancer treatment, mental health care,
HIV
retroviral agents, pain relief, attention to an ear infection, and, of course, clean water, healthy food, and safety?