Lewis Grizzard wrote a hilarious book “They Tore Out My Heart and Stomped That Sucker Flat.” The title referred to his problems with heart disease and Lewis’s affairs of the heart. My caption has no double meaning. It is straightforward literally.

It started simply enough. Honestly I felt like a healthy spring colt free in a beautiful pasture except I needed an allopurinol refill to forestall gout. I depend upon a daily allopurinol tablet to counter the return of the painful condition.

We called the drugstore for a refill. They indicated I would have to contact my doctor for a new prescription. The doctor’s office said I had not visited since 2007 and they would not write a new prescription unless I appeared for a consultation.

Gout is a lifetime condition and I have yet to hear of anyone who became an allopurinol addict but that is another story.

I consulted my doctor to get the allopurinol prescription and in the process he used his stethoscope. While listening to the left side of my neck he remarked, “You’ve got a bruit.”

Having no idea what a “bruit” is I thought perhaps it might be a beauty spot or some other intriguing condition on my neck. It turns out a “bruit” has no connection with beauty and it might come from the root word brute since a “bruit” has the potential to be brutal.

The PDR Medical Dictionary defines the term as “a harsh or musical intermittent auscultatory sound, especially an abnormal one. A carotid bruit is a systolic murmur heard in the neck but not at the aortic area.”

A carotid ultrasound identified a 60 to 80 per cent blockage in my left carotid artery. The diagnosis was accompanied by a recommendation that I see a vascular surgeon immediately.

My good friend, Dr. Bill Pannell, the eminent general surgeon, was exceptionally generous in advising how to proceed. Bill recommended Dr. Maurice Solis who he described as an outstanding vascular surgeon conservative in regard to treatment.

Three visits to Dr. Solis produced a diagnosis, a decision, and an incision in that order.

Dr. Solis identified a 70 to 80 per cent blockage of the left carotid on May 11. He told me it was not an emergency but the current blockage increased my chances of a stroke by about 12 per cent during the next five years.

He explained the basic procedure for the carotid endartectomy (CEA) which is the most frequently performed operation for such a condition. My chief concern became: Is the ordeal of an operation worth a 12 per cent increase in my chances of not getting a stroke? June 8th was the date to give Dr. Solis my decision.

As a youngster I, like my fellow male classmates, got into fights from time to time. They consisted of wrestling contests which didn’t last long and usually didn’t involve significant blows being struck.

Boys often carried small pocketknives that in no way resembled switch blades made famous in the movies. On occasion during the course of a playground scuffle a boy would take out his pocketknife and threaten to cut his opponent.

I can’t actually remember anyone ever being cut but I always harbored a pervasive fear of being cut by a knife in anger or otherwise. I preferred cowboy movies to pirate movies because the cowboys didn’t seem to stick knives in people as often as did pirates.

I even convinced myself if I had to be wounded with a weapon I would prefer to be shot with a fire arm than cut with a knife.

Also high on my list of things I preferred to avoid was my lifelong dislike of being stuck with needles. I understand how people’s lives have been improved through the use of needles in medical applications and I applaud their life-saving life-improving utilization.

Somehow I prefer these wonder workers be utilized on other people and just give me a pill to swallow if that is an option. I do however heartily endorse the use of needles to sew my clothes together.

Amid these fears I made the intrepid decision to proceed with the carotid cleaning on June 23 as Dr. Solis’s first operation of the day. The purpose of being first is another story perhaps best not told at this point.

After all I had survived my dreaded colonoscopy none the worse for wear although I conveniently forgot no knives were used and only a minimum number of needles were employed.

After completing my daily run beginning at midnight I reported to the Surgery Center of the Medical Center of Central Georgia promptly at 5:30 a.m.

I was unable to think of a sufficient excuse to skip out to Central America. Besides I didn’t want to disappoint Merle since she looked forward to the experience and the joy of looking after me.

They did a lot of stuff which you who have had a lot of stuff done to you would recognize. I slipped into unconsciousness and my next memory involved bright lights above my head and someone saying, “Wake up, Mr. Wade. It’s all over. You did well.”

As they wheeled me into the recovery room my initial reactions were “I’m glad I survived. It’s wonderful to be alive. It was just like the colonoscopy.” I soon discovered there were significant differences.

Readers of Lewis Grizzard’s heart book will remember his amazement at the medical profession’s ingenuity in inserting tubes in most of one’s body openings during surgery.

I learned the reality of what I had overlooked when I felt an overwhelming urgency to expel kidney fluids. I announced to the nurse a need to get up and go.

She answered, “Oh you don’t have to worry about that you have a catheter in your urethra which will drain automatically.”

I replied, “ I wish the catheter would notify the nerve endings in that area so I don’t feel I’m about to burst.”

Dr. Solis told Merle all went well and he did not have to scrape the artery to remove the plaque but instead it popped out quickly in one piece. He said I was not to run that day. This was not a problem since the running had been taken care of.

It should have been a time of immense relief that evening when the nurse removed the catheter had I not chosen to watch as she withdrew each of the three giant sections of tubing. A primal scream accompanied ejection of the last part.

Relief in that area arrived 16 hours later when I was able to pass kidney fluid without feeling it was near boiling mixed with dried sand spurs.

Wednesday afternoon while walking the halls in my deluxe hospital gown still connected to the heart monitor in my room I made a vital discovery. The stairwells and the stairs between the first and fifth floors of the Heart Center make a wonderful place to run.

Well not actually wonderful but adequate when one is in captivity within the building. One and one tenth miles is admittedly not a lot but it was enough to keep the running streak going and since few people bother to use stairs, nobody saw me.

Merle reported while I was out of the room the monitor rose to 120 hearts beats per minute and for a while the numbers disappeared from the screen. I figured that was when I was on the first or second floors.

Later that evening Dr. Ayerdi, an associate of Dr. Solis, told me they planned to release me the next morning if the cardiologist concurred. Dr. Ayerdi said I could do anything I wanted except drive for seven days. I thanked Dr. Averdi and wished I had run three miles instead of one.

We arrived home late Thursday afternoon. I never had hypertension prior to 7:30 a.m. June 23. Now I have high blood pressure, excruciating headaches periodically, and I am unable to read for more than a few minutes at the time.

I have a prominent bulge and a three-inch scar on my neck which looks like I might have starred in a Saturday night back alley free for all. I am told all conditions except the scar will go away.

Was it worth it? Time will tell. Would I do it again? I don’t know. It was a learning experience which gave a better perspective of surgical procedures other people experience.

The medical professionals did their best in putting up with an unconventional old soul misplaced in time and temperament. I have to figure out how to keep Merle being nice to me. It was like a second honeymoon. Well the being nice part was like a honeymoon.

Thanks to family and friends for your concerns. IT IS WONDERFUL TO STILL BE ALIVE! It is 7:17 p.m. Saturday, June 27 and time to run. The streak continues yet another day.