My cycling brother from another mother had his triple bypass yesterday afternoon and it went perfectly. According to his doctor, via his wife, it was a textbook surgery. The doctor “couldn’t have hoped for a better case”.
Six weeks, starting right now, we’ll be starting to help him work back to cycling strength.
I spoke with him the other day, before he went under the knife and I was heartened to hear him say that he’s already got a goal (if a lofty one), to get back into shape before the horsey hundred next May so he can kick our friend “Chuck’s ass in the hills”.
Now let me be very clear about this whole “lofty goal” thing. Chuck is the epitome of what we call, in cycling, a mountain goat. This guy will go out of his way to find a hill to climb on his bike. He likes climbing a lot more than I do (and that’s saying something)… So it was with great enjoyment that I relayed Mike’s boast to Chuck last night, with a wry grin on my face. His response was to chuckle and add, “Yeah, well he’s gonna need a leg transplant too”.
Leg transplant notwithstanding, it’s looking like my buddy will be back in working order shortly. Thank you to all of the people who commented with prayers and well wishes when I wrote a post about his condition last week. They worked.
When I got the good news last night I couldn’t help but think of one of the final scenes in Grumpy Old Men, where Walter Matthau is visiting Jack Lemmon’s character in the hospital. The nurse looks at Max Goldman (Matthau) and asks how he knows John Gustafson (Lemmon), whether he’s friend or family. Goldman responds with a cracking voice, “He’s my friend”. That’d be how I feel about my buddy, Mike. He’s my friend, but he’s my brother from another mother too.