Staying positive during and after illness

A number of friends have commented on my positive approach to life in light of the serious operation I underwent in April. What I know is that I was one of the lucky ones--operated on about a week after my diagnosis and extensive testing--and a three-month recovery that was not fraught with major problems. I was well-treated by the healthcare system in this country, and from my conversations with others who have experienced the system, I had an excellent experience. I am thankful for that. Because had I landed on a long waiting list for an operation, I may not have concluded thusly. And I probably would not be doing well at all. 

The positivity comes from knowing that my diagnosis was correct and that the resultant surgery was successful. None of these things is a given, especially the latter. The tests I went through were extensive and difficult, but tolerable. The mitral valve repair surgery that I underwent is at present fairly routine, but still, there are always risks with any kind of surgery where anesthesia is involved. I knew beforehand that my quality of life without surgery would be null. So there was no question in my mind that surgery was my only option. I wasn't afraid of it. I was rather afraid of not having it soon enough, because my quality of life prior to surgery was poor. I couldn't sleep and I had a hard time breathing properly. You don't live long with those symptoms--all signs of congestive heart failure. 

I am a scientist by training and a fairly pragmatic person. I understand the pros and cons involved in most medical procedures and I can discuss them rationally with the doctors and nurses. I was interested in my condition and in the different types of testing, and told them so. So they weren't afraid to be open about aspects of my treatment that they may not have discussed with another type of patient. There are some people who don't want to know any of the details, and that also has to be respected. But I wanted to know. 

So my positivity evolved out of the knowledge that my only option was surgery, and that it went well. I am grateful for a second chance in life. My brush with mortality has taught me to be grateful for every single day, and to be grateful for my husband and the friends who have remained in my life. There are people who distance themselves from you when you become ill. Perhaps they think you will ask them for help, or perhaps they are scared for themselves. In any case, I am happy to be together with those I can call real friends. With them, I can let down my guard and they know that I can tell them that I have good days and bad days. But the good days far outweigh the bad ones, and knowing that makes me smile.