This past Friday, I went under the knife for the first time in my life.

It was a routine surgery, but nonetheless, it was invasive as a knife cut into my body around 10:00am. I wasn’t awake for it, thankfully. And, that hour of my life seems to have become a vapor. No memory or recollection. No dream or deep, ponderous thoughts. One moment you are in the operating room; the next, you are in the recovery room. What happened in between these two places is a mystery. For those of you who have experienced surgery, you can surely understand.

Prior to my surgery, I had to undergo a full physical exam. My surgery was scheduled for a Friday, so my exam was on the Monday prior. On Wednesday, I received a rather alarmed call from my doctor. He was cancelling my surgery, claiming my blood work came back “severely anemic”. Even though I had explained my hereditary anemic condition – indigenous of those with Mediterranean backgrounds. My father has this condition, as do I. If you looked at my blood work up and didn’t know I had this condition, it would appear I was bleeding internally. Thus the panicked call from my doctor. Even though I was confident the low blood count and irregular numbers was attributed to my anemic condition, the doctor was more confident it could be something else. So, on the day I was scheduled to make an appearance in the operating room, I instead paid visit to a specialist and had to release my mental preparation for surgery.

I had 2 days between the call from my surgeon and the visit to the hematologist. Within that 48 hours, my wife and I were everything from concerned to confused. The former for the obvious reasons – what in the world could be wrong? And, the latter from the fact that I have never felt more healthy. I have purposed myself to eat better, exercise more and despite the physical reality of predisposed to lethargy, my mind has determined not to give in to being tired all of the time. I yawned and slept my way through my twenties, but my thirties have been spent more energized, more stimulated. My anemia hasn’t dissipated or “gone away”. Instead, the worries have been replaced by a simple love of life; one that I hadn’t experienced in the decade where I thought I knew anything – that know-it-all wasteland of our twenties where anxiety was the only way of life.

One never knows the disposition of people, particularly doctors. So, I sit down with this new doctor. He looks at me directly. “This is pretty straightforward”. My heart sank a bit. He continued…”you’re in perfect health”. I asked him to say it again. Long story short, the blood work proved that I did have the anemic condition I’ve had since birth, and despite it, I was in great health.

I was feeling, physically, amazing. There was nothing within me that gave a hint to illness, despite the alarming report I was preparing myself to confront that day, with that doctor. I realized even though I’m getting older and things “break down”, I was very inspired for some reason. And, that inspiration was generating something within me that I can only describe as energy. I think I have reached the stage of my life that has me trying to figure things out less and open myself up more to the idea of inspired living.

I realized, walking out of this doctors appointment that gave the wonderful report of great news, that my life was truly energized by the ability to be inspired and engaged by each day, no matter how mundane or exciting or everything in between. I understood how little I actually have and that has inspired me to realize how much I really do. Sometimes, this is just enough of what we need to be spirited enough to move past our challenges and shortcomings. This surgery and the days leading up to it has provided me a unique opportunity to appreciate, in a new light, how inspired living is the only way to live.