MY POST-SURGERY BLOG – MARCH 2026

Shortly after surgery.

Dear friends,

If you’ve been keeping up with my blogs, you know I had spinal neck surgery in early February. I’m happy to report it went well—actually, better than expected. So well, in fact, that my doctor didn’t even need to do a fusion. Turns out my vertebrae had already taken care of that on their own. (Nice to know something in my body is proactive.) She cleaned out the area around my spinal cord and added some padding—basically giving me an improved model going into the future.

It was my first time overnight in a hospital (two nights) and my first time for major surgery.

I’m now in week six of an eight-week recovery. I’m doing pretty well. There’s still some pain, but I’m improving every day and getting stronger. I still have aches and pains lingering in other parts of my body. My goal remains a pain-free life. Wishful thinking, hah?

Thank you for sharing your own experiences, suggestions, prayers, and good wishes. They certainly helped me through a difficult time.

Six Weeks Later.

I hope you all had a happy St. Patrick’s Day. We celebrated in style—corned beef and cabbage three times. By the third round, I must admit I had enough corned beef and cabbage to last another year.

We just got back from a community celebration with food, drinks, desserts, singing songs, and prizes. Sadly, we didn’t win anything. Still, we had a great time and met some new neighbors, which is always nice.

St. Patrick’s Day always brings back memories. When I was a kid, my Uncle Frank, who lived downstairs, said to my cousin Roseann (his daughter) and me, “Come on, we’re going to the parade on Fifth Avenue!” Next thing you know, we’re in Manhattan, it's windy and freezing cold. We stood on the sidewalk, watching marching bands, firefighters, police officers, and military units go by. Despite the weather and cold feet, it was a day I remember fondly.

Then came the “I’m of legal drinking age” years… and let’s say the celebration changed a little. Those were the bar-hopping days—green beer, loud music, and questionable decisions. If you remember everything from those years, you probably didn’t do it right.

In my opinion, San Francisco took things to another level. Their celebrations lasted all week. And yes—this is true—they had snake races. Real snakes. Downtown. In the financial district.

Apparently, it ties back to the legend of St. Patrick driving the snakes out of Ireland—though historians say the snakes were probably a metaphor for the pagans he converted to Christianity. Either way, in San Francisco, people brought actual pet snakes, put them on a table, and watched them slither to the finish line. I don’t know who first thought, “You know what this holiday needs? Snakes.” But it worked.

On St. Patrick’s Day itself, one of my favorite bars, The Royal Exchange, would close off the street, and the green beer flowed like the water in San Francisco Bay. Let’s say hydration was not an issue.

One of our most memorable St. Patrick’s Days was spent in what would later become our hometown for a couple of decades—Crested Butte, Colorado. We were on vacation, skiing during the day and making the rounds of bars and restaurants at night.

That evening, we went to the Forest Queen restaurant. Of course, we ordered corned beef and cabbage and Irish coffee—because at that point, it was a tradition for us. The corned beef was lean and served like a thick steak.

After dinner, we crossed the street and headed upstairs to Penelope’s Restaurant cigar lounge. I got myself a nice, expensive cigar, a snifter of brandy, and was settling in when the power went out, and it was a total blackout.

Now, in a small mountain town, that’s not exactly shocking. But instead of everyone panicking, the staff lit candles and made everyone feel comfortable. There we were, sitting in a candlelit room, enjoying a cigar, thinking, “This is pretty cool.” Moments like that stick with you over the years.

These days, our St. Patrick’s Day celebrations are more about eating than getting drunk. This year, we had two celebrations. On Saint Patrick’s Day, earlier in the week, we tried to get into an Irish pub we’d been to before. No reservation. Big mistake. Apparently, everyone else had the same idea—only they planned.

We ended up at one of our favorite diners instead—and honestly, it worked out great. They served a full meal: soup, salad, corned beef and cabbage with all the fixings, dessert, and Irish coffee, all for $29.95. The portions were so big that we had enough leftovers for another meal. Then today was our community celebration.

As I continue recovering, I’m reminded how important these moments are—good food, good memories, and good company.

Wishing all of you good health, a little luck, and plenty of reasons to celebrate—preferably without needing three servings of corned beef.