A year ago today, doctors calling themselves the pros from Dover placed a stent in my heart. That made the blood flow and made me live.
Good for you, Pros from Dover!

They stripped me down, the team of three boys and two girls; they let me hold my hospital gown over my privates and they let me keep my scapular on, and they let me hold my simple one-decade rosary in my left hand.

"We're gonna give you something to relax you," they said, and they shot something into my arm.

One of the women said "We're gonna insert this catheter into your artery," and with gloved hands she moved my masculinity out of the way and inserted the catheter into my right femoral artery.

"Watch the monitors," Trapper said, and I did, fascinated as the monitors showed the progress of the probe up along my body and right into the heart.

"There it is!" cried Hawkeye. "That's the blockage!"

And even I could see it, in the right cardial artery. Right there on the video screen. "We're gonna fix that," Hawkeye said.
I think that's when I passed out.

When I woke up, I was in the hands of the recovery nurses. Their first job, at least in regard to me, was to stop the bleeding.

You cut into the femoral artery, you get some bleeding.

They strapped me into this device called a FemStop. Invented during the Inquisition, I think.

Two hours of that, and then two hours of a twenty pound sandbag on the inside of my thigh.

And then two more hours of the FemStop.

But eventually they stopped the bleeding and gave me some orange juice.

That was this day last year.

This day this year.... I went for my daily walk (3 miles); I listened to baseball (Dodgers beat the Braves 5-4 in 11 innings), I prayed my Rosary and I made some plans for tomorrow.

Life is wonderful!