Archive for February, 2011

For over a year, I have written about the trials and tribulations of being me! For over a year, over 2,000 of you have tuned in to see what could possibly happen next.

As many of you already know, I turned the blog into a book. I wrote in detail about the circumstances which led to my heart attack, and the aftermath. I am proud to say that I received from the publisher a copy of the book cover AND the formatted draft of the book. I finished the final review of the book moments ago and sent the notes back to the publisher. From here, the book should begin to get printed within the next two weeks.

As you might imagine, it is nearly impossible for a new author to get publicity. May I ask all of you who have tuned in for a favor? If you like what you’re read, and you think what this book represents is good, will you repost this blog link on your Facebook walls? I would be forever grateful to all of you for that. In the meantime, keep tuned in, as I begin the process of getting a new heart. For you; I have included the cover of the book.



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My heart attack was in 1989. The doctors then said I had only three to five years to live unless I had a heart transplant. Guess what. They were wrong. In 1997, my defibrillator started shocking me regularly. Again the doctors told me that I would probably die in a year without a heart transplant. They were wrong. In 2005, the doctors that examined me for the Social Security Administration were amazed that I was still alive. They asked me if I were on the transplant list. When I told them that I was not, they assured me that I needed to get on the list fast or I will surely die. They were wrong.

One year after that, in 2006, I was being worked up for the transplant and one of those doctors told Denise and I that I had less than six months to live. No no no… Not yet!!!

Finally the walls came crashing in. I was taken off the transplant list, my heart failure syptoms became overwhelming and I was constantly finding myself in emergency rooms. The doctors in the hospital told my family that I really only had a few weeks left to live. I should be placed in hospice. One week passed…still alive. Two weeks past and I am still here. When we hit the third week in hospice, Denise brought me to the doctor. We left hospice behind, and did what we could to regain what was left of my life. The doctors didn’t back down though. They insisted that I really had very little time left on this earth. That was in 2007.

Fast forward: We are here in 2011. I am still skulking about and once again I have this doctor trying to tattoo an expiration date to my ass. According to the report generated by the test I had a week ago, my one to two-year chances of survival is poor. When I asked what they were trying to say, I was told that the doctor didn’t think I would survive more than a year or so without a heart transplant.

If I actually died every time the doctors had predicted it, I would have set the Guinness Book Of World Records for the most time a guy can die in one life time. I have a tough time taking these comments too seriously. Can you blame me? Oh I am making haste preparing to get back into the transplant program. That’s all. As for the expiration date: there will be no tattoo’s on my ass. Not yet.

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