I was going to write another column about our misguided, unethical, agenda-driven city council, but then it occurred to me that I can always write one of those. And as my buddy Bruce said, “You only have a two-year survival anniversary column you can write once.”

He’s so right. After all, if I try to write it at this time next year, it will be my three-year anniversary. And truth be told, only the Big Guy in the heavens knows whether I make three years.

So, what’s the anniversary? Is it trips around the sun? Technically, all anniversaries are. And even though many of you think I act like a two-year-old, this isn’t about birthdays or wedding anniversaries or the annual blessings of having the two most wonderful, kind and loving daughters on the planet.

Nah, once again, this is all about me.

Well, rather the new me. The new, two-year-old me and the engine that runs the body in which my spirit lives. My heart. As I’m almost sure some old saying goes; Changed heart, changed man.

On June 30, I celebrated the two-year anniversary of surviving a triple bypass surgery and replacement of my aortic valve. It’s also a love and appreciation message to so many of you, especially my daughters, who lifted me up in prayer and supported me through the most harrowing week and a half of my life.

Facing death, it’s not for the living. Hear me out.

And I think that’s the most important lesson of the main lessons I’ve learned in all of this out of my heart problems.

First is this: We have the greatest health care system on the planet, no matter how badly the government tries to continue to screw it up. I know, I can’t go an entire column without a government rant. But let’s face it, just how many countries are there where open-heart surgeries are routine multiple times every day across the nation?

Folks, I walked in the intensive-care unit that night after my surgery. Don’t ever tell me our healthcare system is so poorly rated. We have the best doctors, facilities and technology on the planet. I know. I experienced it first-hand.

Now, if you want to talk about policies and billing and insurance and the rest of it, sure, there’s room for improvement. But if you’re gonna get cut open, you want that to happen in the good ol’ US of A.

That said, here’s another thing I discovered in my first year after surgery: something my therapist likes to call hypervigilance. And it sucks. Imagine living where you now notice literally everything your body is doing, whether it’s: aches and pains, which is expected after open heart surgery; heart thumping, which is a side effect of most medications; numbness in your sternum; and the overall work required to get your body back into shape, because it atrophied so immensely after surgery.

Now imagine every time you felt any one of these you thought you were going to die. And just because I’m me, I have ongoing premature ventricular contractions that love to pop up much more often than the rest of you everyday humans. Yeah, I notice those, too.

The good news is that in my second year, particularly as I approached this anniversary, I have learned to handle them as part of my daily life. So, here’s the good news/bad news for me in this column (you are welcome to take them in the order you prefer): I’m going to die at some point in this life. As we all are. But there are important takeaways related to this last lesson.

I’m gonna do all I can to live as long as possible. After all, the government needs attention, and I’m happy to give it. But so do my daughters, my friends, whoever I can con into maybe being my wife one day, and then there’s all of you. So, there will be walks, exercise, a proper diet (as good as I can) and just overall healthy living in a faith-filled life. And I hope to do it all with a servant’s heart, which leads me to the most important thing in all of this which I only discovered this past year.

Life is about learning that dying doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t be your biggest fear. My mom had that mindset, almost to the point of it being obnoxious. She shared those thoughts with me time and again as she knew her time was drawing near. She knew I’d face death one day, and she wanted to prepare me.

Now, God knows I’ve hastened my demise the first 62 years of my life with sin, alcohol, two failed marriages and raising two kids (the first two were serious, the latter two were humor) and just my lifestyle in general. But the blessing from God to live these last two years of my life are not only about how to live, but when to live.

When to live, and to live for Him, is every day you wake up. Don’t wait until you’re laid out like a bullfrog in the operating room for 10 hours. If you’re gonna have a heart attack, let it be attacked by the Holy Spirit. It’s the only way to live.

In Truth and freedom.

Craig Hall is owner and publisher of The Business Times. Reach him at 424-5133 or publisher@thebusinesstimes.com