The Subsequent Shoe
Pretty much ever since my heart surgery in 1984, I’ve resigned myself to a kind of semi-permanent suspense. Would I need another surgery? Am I “fixed” now? What would life be like now that I could play outside and have a reasonable expectation of not passing out? How long would that last?
A common refrain from those in the adult community of congenital heart defect survivors is “You are never fixed.