I've come to realize, for now at least, that I am a different version of myself...a lesser functioning Melissa than what I was two months ago. It's not exactly a negative thing, or a scary thing, or even something I think about too often but it does seem odd at times that I'm still me, just different. And it's not even easy to describe in what ways I am different. Mostly, they are things that I feel inside, not outward things, other than the obvious 7-inch scar down the center of my chest. Things like how slow I am in the morning, or how hot water in the shower makes my heart flip-flop, or how tired I am when I lie my head down at night even after doing nothing all day. How it scares me to hear about celebrities that die young of cardiac arrest (Brittany Murphy, most recently) or the realization that everything we see, everything we are, everything we do can all be over in the blink of an eye. I know it sounds morbid, but when you've had to face death, it's an unavoidable thought.

But, the flip side to this new Melissa is that it's not all negative. In fact, I think that BECAUSE of the fear and BECAUSE of the bad days I still experience health-wise as my heart continues to heal, I am becoming a more positive person. I've come to notice just how wonderfully beautiful the simplest of things can be. Like taking a walk and feeling each muscle expand and contract to propel me forward and with each step, I can feel the strength of my body returning. Like looking up at the sky, out over the ocean, the smell of freshly cut grass, or taking the first breath of morning air when you step outside your house, the sound of a dog barking in the distance, the feel of the breeze on your cheek, the tender kiss goodnight offered to you by a loving spouse, the sound of a child's giggle, the warm glow of a light in a house when you can picture everyone sitting around the dinner table inside enjoying each other's company and recounting the day's events. It can be nothing or it can be everything and to me, it's become everything and more. I don't wake up and begrudge the beginning of another day as I used to because back then, it meant dragging myself out of bed and into the shower to make it in to work on time. Now a new day means another chance, a brand new day to be alive and to take it all in.

I'm a new version of myself. I'm not the same Melissa I was two months ago. I'm not even the same Melissa I was one month ago. That person was too consumed by anxiety and post-operative pain to appreciate all that I have begun to let in to my life. It's a slow process, but I hope I can carry this torch on in to the future and not let this new Melissa disappear as more of life's challenges present themselves, as they inevitably will. I'm not saying she won't fade from time to time, but I hope she stays around for awhile, because she's really starting to grow on me.