Richard Crystal - Journey of the Heart

Journey of the Heart

Copyright 2017 by Richard Crystal

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher, except in cases of a reviewer quoting brief passages in a review.

Published in the United States by TitleTown Publishing, LLC

www.titletownpublishing.com

Distributed by Midpoint Trade Books

www.midpointtrade.com

Cover Design: Mark Karis

Interior Layout and Design: Erika L. Block

Cover Photo: Copyright Jackie Gay Wilson

ISBN 9780996295-15-4 (ebook)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available upon request.

for Jackie

Preserve your memories;

Theyre all thats left you.

Paul Simon

Foreword

by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar

The passage from adolescence to maturityfrom worrying about our hairstyle to worrying about where our hair wentis a journey of ever-increasing challenges. The youthful conviction of our own invulnerability and immortality soon deteriorates into the inevitable tending to our growing list of ailments, some just annoying, some life-threatening. The Jetsons promised us Baby Boomers flying cars, robot servants, and a happy, pain-free old age. As I have found out through my quadruple bypass surgery and a diagnosis of leukemia, it aint necessarily so.

The poet Stanislaw Jerzy Lec once wrote, Youth is the gift of nature, but age is a work of art. The emphasis is on the word work, because thats what aging requires: hard work. But, as I discovered from reading Richards invaluable book, it also requires good humor, self-searching, and an awareness that were not in this alone. In his book, Richard discusses the issues of his health with humor, candor, and wisdom, thereby making it a lot easier for the rest of us who have to walk his same path. As Richard points out, its a journey that can be scary and threatening, but it also can be fulfilling and rewarding. We are fortunate to have Richard to illuminate that path for us.

Preface

In the fall of 2008, I had breakfast with Steven Cagan, a gifted composer and my friend of over thirty years. He had recently introduced me to The Tender Bar, J.R. Moehringers wonderful memoir about growing up on Long Island in the seventies. As I thanked him for the great read, he added that he hoped the book would inspire me to consider writing my own memoir. Granted, I had once sold an article about the riots at the Newport Jazz Festival to High Fidelity Magazine in 1971 and had minor success as a Hollywood screenwriter, but this was something else entirely. I laughed at the presumptuous suggestion, feeling that it was a premature notion. Further, the thought was intimidating for I was quite certain I didnt have the literary chops to confront such a challenge.

About a month later, on a nearby golf course in Encino, I experienced a rapid heartbeat and a burning in my chest whenever I would push my cart uphill. I immediately saw my cardiologist, who informed me that I needed to have open heart surgery to replace my aortic valve. We discussed potential options, but I really didnt have any. If I refused to undergo the procedure, I would most probably be dead from a massive heart attack within three years.

The sobering reality of my condition put me face to face with my mortality. Unexpected waves of emotion swept over me. My wife, Fran, gave me a journal to record the unfolding events of my surgery and to serve as an outlet for my feelings. And so I began to keep a diary. There were notes, times, images, even a poem or two. But nothing more.

When I began to regain my strength after the surgery, I found myself re-reading my journal and exploring some of my notes in greater detail. It began to intrigue me. What was really underneath these momentary images that popped into my head?

About a month into my recovery, I saw my cardiologist, Dr. Ilan Kedan, for a follow up. On my way out of his office, he asked me if I had gotten back to writing again. I told him I had. In fact, I was actually writing about the heart surgery. Dr. Kedan thought it was a wonderful idea and expressed interest in reading the finished work. It could be a helpful tool for his patients who would be undergoing a similar procedure.

It was the encouragement I needed.

I began to take the project seriously and started writing every day. I envisioned a short pamphlet for heart patients that would serve as a helpful aid, an honest account of the process. Using the notes in my journal as a launching pad, I began to recall, in great detail, the chain of events that began with my episode on the golf course. But as I continued working, something else began to emerge. The surgery that had opened my chest had unlocked a flood of memories. Like an archaeologist uncovering a buried city, I began to dig deeper and deeper and slowly rediscovered the events that had shaped my life.

Prologue

It was a beautiful day.

I stood on the first tee and looked down the fairway one last time before taking my back swing. I approached the ball, did a little waggle in the hopes of keeping loose, and repeated the mantra in my head, You dont play golf to relax, you relax to play golf. The head of the driver came down and made contact. Ping!

I lifted my head and watched with relief as the ball flew into the air and landed just off the left side of the fairway.

Good hit, Rip, Sandy shouted in encouragement.

Ill take it, I replied.

I put the driver in my golf bag and started wheeling my cart down the fairway to take my next shot. I love to walk the eighteen holes. Even if I play like a hack, I can always take comfort in the fact that I get great exercise. As I pushed my cart up a small hill on the way to my ball, I felt a slight burning in my chest. I reached up nonchalantly and started rubbing it.

You okay? Sandy asked.

Yeah, Im okay. Just got this burning going on. Feels like some kind of indigestion.

I get it too. Its probably acid reflux. Pop a Zantac before a round, and youll be fine.

Sandys diagnosis made perfect sense, and, by the time I reached my ball, the burning had all but disappeared. Feeling like my normal self again, my focus returned to the challenge confronting me for my next shot. I was about a hundred and forty yards away from the pin on the short par four. The seven iron felt right. Definitely a seven iron. I stood over the ball, reminding myself to keep my head down and follow through. Dont try to kill it. Youve got plenty of club.

I started my back swing, trying to feel the right tempo, turned my shoulder, came down with my club, and made solid contact. The ball lifted high into the air and landed on the front end of the green. Awesome. Now all I had to do to get my par was two putt.

The first putt was crucial. I needed to get the ball within three feet of the hole to seal the deal. I studied the green and saw that it was basically straight very little break, if any. That was a good thing. Just keep that head down, putt through the ball, and I should be okay. My stroke was steady, and the ball had a nice roll to it. My eyes widened with hopeful expectation as the dimpled white orb approached the hole. It slid by the right side of the cup at the very last moment, but I was only slightly disappointed. Im a bogey golfer and a birdie is a rare occurrence. Hell, Ill take a tap-in regulation par any time. Any time at all.