Thanksgiving

Last week, we got some challenging news: Joe, Clyde’s father, was diagnosed with arterial calcification.

The valve at the top of the heart, when closed, looks a bit like a pie cut into three wedges; when the heart pumps, those three wedges swing outward and upward, allowing oxygenated blood to spew back into the bloodstream. In Joe’s case, this valve had calcified, becoming hard and inflexible. As a result, his oxygen supply was restricted, and fluid was building up in his chest and lungs.

As calcification progresses, the damage to the heart becomes more and more severe. Forty percent calcification requires emergency surgery; Joe’s doctors euphemistically told us that eighty-percent calcification is “incompatible with life.”

Joe’s valve was seventy-eight percent calcified.

Monday, Joe underwent emergency valve replacement surgery. Doctors split him open, removed the problematic valve (they said it looked like a slice of polished stone), and replaced it with tissue taken from a cow. (Which made me wonder: would vegetarians have this procedure?)

Since the operation, his recovery has been remarkable. By the end of the first day, they had him up in a chair; as of last night, he was feasting on beef tips and rice. We’re still puzzling over some issues about proper blood clotting, but his chest tubes have already been removed, and Joe is as bright, alert, and wry as ever.

He should get out of ICU today … Thanksgiving Day.

* * * * * * * * * *

Today, I’m thankful for many, many things.

I’m thankful for my family of birth: my mother, my brother, and my brother’s wife and children. I’m particularly thankful that, after some hard and distant years, we are increasingly reconnected and involved in each other’s lives.

I’m thankful for Clyde, who for almost fifteen years now has been my perfect companion. I’m noisy; he’s shy. I’m spendy; he’s prudent. I’m all ideas; he’s all action. We are, in so many ways, opposites — and yet, we fit together like two pieces of a single soul.

I’m thankful for Clyde’s family — his sister, who always accepted me, and who led her children and husband to do the same. I’m thankful for Clyde’s mother, who, by example, led everyone in Clyde’s hometown to love and accept us as openly and completely as she did. I’m thankful for Clyde’s father, who calls me his son and whose passion for travel has taken me — and the entire family — to the far corners of the planet, one great trip at a time.

I’m thankful for my closeness to Clyde’s sister’s boys — for the casual comfort we feel in each other’s presence, for the easy-going rapport we’ve always had, for every time they call me their uncle.

I’m thankful to be here, and to be relatively healthy. After watching Joe’s ordeal, I have half-jokingly declared myself a vegetarian and half-heartedly committed to exercise.

Since Monday, at eight out of nine meals, I’ve eaten smaller portions … and I’ve actually eaten kale, zucchini, tomatoes, and broccoli. I’ve decided to go back to avoiding red meat. I’ve dropped fried foods from my personal menu. In short: I am thankful my valves are working … and I want to do everything I can to avoid first-hand experience with the medical miracle that has kept Clyde’s father alive this week.

I’m thankful for old friends — W. and D., the Atlanta crew, and far-flung friends like Barbara and Lisa in Minneapolis, Turpin and Michelle in Seattle, and Georges in Edinburgh. I’m thankful for new friends, like Kim and Martin in London.

I’m thankful for the hundreds of notes and letters I get from MadeByMark.com readers — folks who read one of my books, or who use one of my decks, or who stopped by one day to read about Topamax or Tivo or iPods or restaurants … and who kept coming back for more. Your presence here means a lot to me.

I’m thankful for the opportunity to pursue my dream — a reality Clyde’s patience and support makes possible — and for the fact that day after day, every day, I have the chance to do what I love to do: write about life, write my books, and write about ideas and insights that I hope others can use to make their own dreams come true.

For all this, and for so much more, I’m truly and deeply thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving, folks.