Just to update you on things, I went to the Northwest Medical Center in Margate, on the morning of May 9, 2018, to possibly undergo an 'angioplasty procedure' (an implant of a stent in one of the arteries of my circulatory system) - following three tests I'd taken (over the last two weeks), leading to the discovery of an 80% blockage in one of the vessels...

My brother Glenn was nice enough to get up early, and drive me to the hospital. We arrived just in time for the 6:00 AM appointment, at one of its newly-opened extensions. (In fact, Northwest Medical was still under construction, while me and the other patients were each waiting our respective turns to see a doctor.)

Seated in the waiting room, with an HDTV tuned to the local ABC News affiliate, I was would eventually have my name called by a receptionist at the front desk. A security guard asked me to empty my shorts pockets (of wallet, keys, and my smartphone), and a small plastic shopping bag (containing my meds). After filling out a short questionnaire, and providing the receptionist with my I.D. card, as well as Medicare and Medicaid cards, I would later be required to have some blood taken from my left arm.

Afterwards, I returned to the waiting room for further instructions. It was there that I'd discovered that one of the other patients was one of my neighbors from Oriole Gardens (and the person who drove her there was yet another recognizable friend from yet another building from the same condo complex)!

"Small world," I'd said to them... Well, someone had to say it!

The neighbor patient and I were then called forward, to follow one of the female doctors to the cardiology wing of the hospital. There we each settled into separate bays to await further instructions.

In my bay, I was asked to remove my clothes (and store them all in a large clear plastic bag), put on a hospital gown, and sit on a mobile stretcher/bed. Eventually, the doctor and her assistant began to shave the hair off parts of my body for the E.K.G. stickers. They even shaved off all the hair on my right arm, in order to apply the catheter to my blood stream (where iodine would be pumped in during my procedure). It was when they began to shave around my private parts that I began to worry... and NO, not for THAT reason! I was worried that, for the second time in my life, the angioplasty (rod, balloon, and stent) would be inserted by way of an artery, with the incision taking place around my groin!

At 8:45 AM, the stretcher/bed was wheeled into the O.R., where I met the surgeon who was about to perform the procedure. I slid off onto a lower table, where my arms and legs were properly positioned. The iodine and saline solution was entered through the catheter, as I began to slowly fall asleep (or, as they'd like to call it, being in 'twilight').

As I'd dropped off into 'La-La-Land', I began to wonder if I'll be staying at the hospital for several days, laying in a horizontal position with a weight on my groin, until the incision completely heals up (just like the last time, back in September, 2001). I began to fantasize visitors (friends and family, real and fictional, humans and anthropomorphic characters) coming to see me during my recovery...

I slowly began to wake up, to discover that I had returned to the bay I'd came from. I'd asked the doctor's assistant for my smartphone, so I can check the time on it. It read 10:44 AM. It was then that I'd noticed one obvious thing: I didn't have a weight, pressing down on my groin. They didn't make an incision there.

"Did the doctor insert the stent through my arm?" I'd asked the assistant.

"You didn't need the stent this time," she replied. "The blockage wasn't as intense as first speculated. They thought it was 80%, when (in fact) it was only a 40-to-50% build-up of plaque. You'll be able to leave here this afternoon."

Relieved to hear this good news, I began to text my sister Rhonda (back in New York), my friend Philip (from Reading, Pennsylvania), and my amigo Funimal (down in Miami).

I took a short break from all communications, to have breakfast in bed (delivered from the hospital's cafeteria), consisting of two pancakes with syrup, a bowl of oatmeal, one scrambled egg, a small serving of fruit cocktail, a cup of hot coffee and a pint of 2% milk. Since my right hand was sort of constricted during the procedure, I had to eat my meal using only my left hand (which was a slow and tedious process).

Later on, the doctor gave me a list of "Dos and Dont's" to perform at home, during my recovery - including to take showers only (no hot baths), no long walks or bike-riding, not to drive any type of car (which was no problem, as I have no car or driver's license to speak of), and not to operate any heavy equipment (which scuttles my plans to rent out that John Deere tractor)!

More importantly, I have limit the prescribed meds I'm currently taking. I can still take my Plavix knock-off, but I cannot take baby aspirin for a few days. (They are both blood thinners, but the aspirin is stronger, and might hinder the recovery.) I also have to change the bandages on the incisions of my right arm, four times, before it would completely heal. I have to remember to wash the arm with soap and water, and apply an antibiotic cream to the incisions, before applying a fresh bandage...

Using my smartphone, I'd contacted Glenn, and asked him to pick me up - which he did, after 1:00 PM. He felt just as relieved as I was, having to deal neither with heart surgery, nor angioplasty.

We drove to the strip mall across the street from Oriole Gardens, where I bought some Neosporin (antibiotic cream) at a pharmacy, and a small fruit salad (consisting of chunks of melon, cantaloupe, and honeydew, plus grapes and strawberries) at the supermarket next door.

Returning to my condo, I was able to relax, safe in the knowledge that I wasn't going to have signs of a heart attack or stroke any time soon. It's now just a matter of getting the "O.K." from the cardiologist (assigned to me by my 'primary provider'), before having to see one more physician - later in the month - for one last medical ritual... a colonoscopy! (And, compared to THAT, the fear of having an angioplasty procedure was the real "pain-in-the-butt"!)