Monday’s with Mike: A happy Father’s Day, thank goodness

Beth wrote about my sinus surgery last week—first, thanks for your thoughtful comments. They cheered me as I breathed through my mouth in pain-reliever land. Second, this surgery went a lot better than it did 21 years ago. (Still, I don’t ever want to do it again.) Third, my Wednesday surgery was the most mundane medical news in our extended family.

Early that morning, Beth’s nephew Ben, a vital 47-year-old father of four, was playing soccer to get some exercise before work. Ben doesn’t remember what happened, but he collapsed. Luckily, the facility had one of those AED (automated external defibrillator) things you see all over the place now, and someone there knew how to use it. Ben needed it to stay alive and get to the hospital.

Ben’s home already, and resuming normal activities. But hearing the story, even knowing in advance the outcome, made the ground shake under the feet of Ben’s friends and family.

I immediately got the same paralyzing fear I had a few years ago when I was told Beth’s heart had stopped, that she had been shocked back into rhythm, and that she was headed to emergency open heart surgery.

I can’t know, but Beth’s brothers and sisters had to have thought of their father—who at 47 had a heart attack and died shortly thereafter at home.

Ben’s immediate family was left to contemplate what had been imaginable—that the ever-reliable coach, devoted father and spouse was this close to vanishing from their lives.

I think we all contemplated what might have happened if the event had taken place elsewhere—some place where CPR and AEDs weren’t at the ready. I know I did—just as I did when Beth had her incident. And then I realized, as I did then, that the only thing that matters is that it did happen and life went on.

But not the same. Not for me, anyway. This happy ending had the healthy effect of reminding me that our lives, even when they feel like mundane grinds, are miraculous.

Ben and I always talk baseball and sometimes a little business at family gatherings. I always look forward to seeing him, now all the more. Ben’s one of those solid, low maintenance guys that are easy to take for granted—because that’s really the way they want it.

Sorry Ben, but those days are over.