The directions for tomorrow’s heart procedure include the following line:

Wear lightweight, foldable clothing.

The word that stands out is “foldable.” To me this implies that, at some point, a patient arrived wearing something that could not be folded. And I want to know what that was. Did the person not want it folded because they were afraid it would be ruined? Or was it legitimately incapable of being folded?

Being the rule questioner that I am, the first image that popped into my head was this gigantic goldfish suit we had at Whole World Improv Theatre, where I used to perform. Seeing those plainly stated instructions about foldable clothing makes me so badly want to retrieve that costume.

It’s fascinating to think that tomorrow I will have a literal change of heart. The doctor will send a catheter through the femoral artery and up to the heart. Then they’ll deliver a device (called a septal occluder) through the catheter and place it over the hole between my right and left chambers. The device will remain there forever, and heart tissue begins to grow over it within days, ultimately covering it. Wild!

The weird thing about this procedure is that you go from broken to fixed with no in between. What I mean is that, if someone were to hypothetically have surgery to repair a broken leg thanks to some cheap rollerblades purchased on Amazon, the issue is far from resolved once the anesthesia is worn off. In many situations, surgery is just the first step. But in tomorrow’s case, the hole will just go away. It’s magic!

I’ll end on a more woo-woo note. I can’t help but wonder if closing the hole will somehow make my proverbial heart more whole.  

Well, off I go to eat more food as I count down to “fasting” status.

Let’s hope it’s one of the last sleepless nights I spend fighting with the nasal cannula. I’m ready!