MUSING WITH CECIL BUFFINGTON ~ A haunting coincidence . . .

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 Musing With Cecil Buffington

A Haunting coincidence . . .

This past August I suffered a severe heart attack. It came from out of the blue, so to speak. I am an avid walker, several hours per day in many instances, and I regularly excercise with golf, yard work and other physical activities. I never had any reason to feel that I was a candidate for any kind of heart disease or any type of major illness.  To experience that hapless feeling when you are lying on a gurney waiting for an update on whether your doctor's expect you to live or die can be the most frightful and humbling experience in one's life.

The feeling when I was told of severe blockage that would necessitate open-heart surgery will forever live in my mind. My response to the doctor's of "do what you have to do to keep me alive" will stand out as the most important decision of my life.

There really was not a choice. With another imminent heart attack awaiting, probably very shortly down the road, it was a no-brainer that open-heart surgery was the only way to move forward.

My heart attack occured around 9:30 p.m. on the night of August 10, 2019. I vividly recall the moment when I realized that I was terribly ill. I broke out in a profuse sweat and my hands began to trimble, The nausea came shortly after that with total stomach content evacuation up to the point of dry heaving for several moments after the vomiting ended. My legs were so numb and heavy that I could hardly walk and my arms felt like I was lifting a heavy weight. My breathing was labored and I struggled to catch my breath. My daughter drove me to the hospital emergency room where I underwent a series of tests that determined I had suffered a heart attack.

It was a shock when I found out that I had five major blockages of 90, 90, 90, 80 and 50 per cent going into my heart. My journey to the operating table had now began in earnest.

Two days later I underwent surgery to repair the damaged arteries and give me a second chance at life. Of course there were a lot of prayers and promises to the Lord if he would just let me come out of this thing with some degree of normalcy and quality of life. Those first few days after the surgery are horrendous and cannot be explained in simple words. Excrutiating pain that can only be eased by strong narcotic medication is the norm after this type of surgery. I was able to walk just two days after the surgery and although there was a major loss of appetite that necessitated intravainous feeding, I did manage to start a srong recovery toward healing. Now as I think back on what happened that eventful night, I really am very lucky that I made it to the operating table. The doctor's told me that I was close to congestive heart failure that would have ended my life.

As I moved toward recovery, my mind flashed back to the death of my sister, Dianne. She was only 26 years old when she died, It was on a Thursday night around 6:30 p.m. My father, Hoyt Buffington, had died of a massive heart attack, also on a Thurday night around 9:30 p.m. as he watched a pro football game on television. Less than a year later, my mother, Lucille, died on a Thursday night around 6:30 p.m. of cancer that she had been battling for several years. My heart attack had occured at 9:30 p.m. on a Thursday night.

Thursday night has played a major role in the Buffington family tragedies past over the years. I know this is hard to believe . . . Can so many coincidences occure to one family. Believe me . . . yes, it can. I don't know why the good Lord chose Thursday night to be my life-line point of emphasis, but I do know that it almost went four for four in the end of life process for the Buffington family.

I believe there is a reason for everything, but I also believe there are coincidences that pop up from time to time in the life of an individual. It seems that four times in one family is just not likely. But what else can it be but a simple coincidence? I do know that Thursday will always be the day I expect to eventually go to meet my maker. Don't be silly you say, not likely at all you say . . . Well, we'll find out somewhere down the road. Meanwhile, I'll just keep treading carefully on Thursdays and await my destiny. From all this past precedence, don't bet too much against Thursday being involvd in that destiny.