Dick Hardy
Recovery time feels like hospital time—
The tempo and flow, slow and strange,
Where minutes stretch into hours,
And a single day lingers for a week,
A week, an aching month.
The nights are long when sleep won’t arrive,
The days even longer when pain won’t depart.
Food no longer sings with pleasure.
Will I endure this new and uncomfortable world?
The answers hide behind a door I cannot find.
My mind urges, Move!—
But my body hesitates, heavy with doubt.
Will I ever be who I once was?
Never … maybe … Yes, if I dare to dream.
And dreams, gentle and persistent, pull me forward.
But now, something shifted. I’m not the same.
The sky is somehow bluer,
And my loves are deeper,
My gratitude more sincere.
I am not who I was, and I never will be.
Not everyone feels this change—
But in me, hope has unfurled, quietly,
I believe that God guided the surgeons.
And it is He who guides, pushing me forward.
As I continue to recover.
Growing stronger with each rise and fall,
As time, once distorted, finds its rhythm again.
Will I cherish this gift of time, this grace born of struggle,
To love more deeply, to reach beyond myself,
To give? … Yes, a thousand times, yes!
(Dick Hardy, SaddleBrooke, Ariz. Triple Bypass Surgery, Jan. 27, 2025)