July 30, 2026

The signs were all there, as they usually are.  I knew this year’s transition back to Martha’s Vineyard was not going to be easy.  For one, I’d agreed to stay here in NYC far longer than usual because of all the Knicks and World Cup hoopla.  So even at it’s best, I was only going to get about two months worth of sun and fun this season anyway.

And come to think of it, I was under the same timeline one year ago.  In early June, partial knee replacement surgery had me recuperating in my Upper West Side studio apartment for a full two months before managing to escape (and work a bit) for all of August and September.

But this time around, my examples of delays were more random and unique.  This started a couple of Fridays ago, when I managed to grab my car from my sister’s front yard in Southern New Jersey, where she and her husband so graciously allowed me to store it for the winter.  Over the months they’d noticed there was a “check engine” light on; they drove it to a mechanic who offered some initial great news.  This was easily rectified and not a problem at all.

However…

He noticed the brakes had come undone and the car was “un-drivable”.  Better to find this out in Jersey rather than the Vineyard, I rather resignedly understood.  After a one-thousand dollar repair, we were ready to go.

So I picked up the car and promptly embarked on the two-and-a-half hour drive back home.  But almost immediately I noticed some unmistakably troubling sounds from under the driver’s side hood with every bump I happened to travel over.  This loud clunking noise probably should have had me turning around to go back to that same mechanic, but I was due back in New York City -  I was supposed to be traveling the next Monday.  And I felt a bit better when things seemed to improve over the smooth highway.

And of course I hit crazy traffic.  The World Cup final was scheduled in two days.  I might have been better off walking across the George Washington Bridge…

And the Henry Hudson Parkway is completely unforgiving to a car attempting to mask the reasons for INCREDIBLY LOUD CLUNKING sounds…

In a rather uncharacteristic nod to good thinking, I managed to brave the Saturday rainy weather to take the car to a Midas shop in Jersey. Good thing; it turns out the left side strut had completely snapped.  Fifteen hundred dollars later, the travel was suddenly less dangerous.  (The excellent mechanic suggested I change the back struts as well, but as of now I’m holding on to the next $1K…)

Many hours later, my problematic VW Jetta Sportswomen was safely parked back on West 87th Street.

I worked the crazy World Cup shift at Bar 135.  The ensuing road trips of the next week were met with ridiculous traffic at almost every turn.  And then, well - I had to follow up on a medical procedure that had been pending for some time.

Way back in October, I finally was able to secure a preventative test for heart health, where issues run in the family.  The ensuing calcium score indicated that almost all of the plaque registered existed in one artery.  I’d spent most of the past winter in search of a respected cardiologist who would be willing to actually check out the lone artery.  I finally found one.  This past Monday I underwent an angiogram to see if something needed to be done.

Oh, and yes - there had been terrible delays in the waiting rooms leading to this day; on one occasion I actually watched the entire Argentina/England game and much of the post-game analysis before my 3:20 appointment was ready for me at around 6.  But I was relieved to hear my cardiologist predict I’d be spending no more than three hours at the hospital for the following angiogram to be complete.

Well - very fortunate for me to have taken these precautionary measures.  It turns out I’d had what is known as the “widow-maker” for quite some time.  They were able to put in a stent and repair what could have been an instantly disastrous situation.  But it was hard for me to keep my even-keeled composure when the three-hour prediction turned into a reality of 24.  The following late morning I was walking across Central Park, talking to friends and family on the phone.  They couldn’t understand my frustration, as what is 24 hours in comparison to having been granted what could be seen as a life-saving procedure?

And now, here we are, only two days later, and I believe I’m finally able to put things into perspective and gratefully accept the inevitable delays that occur no matter what you’re doing.  I’m following doctor’s orders by not lifting anything heavier than ten pounds.  I’m taking my medicine.  And I even called an employer on the Vineyard to inform him of my inability to work a shift scheduled for tomorrow.  He wasn’t overly happy about the news, but we’re all learning to accept things when delays can’t be avoided.

And today was the day I was supposed to return to the island - but I’ve postponed this trip by two weeks.  I need to be here in New York City for the two-week follow-up.

I need to try to be smart…

Perhaps I’ll even return to the Midas in Jersey to change those back struts…

I can easily foresee another traffic jam when I finally head back to Martha’s Vineyard on August 12th.  But hopefully I’ll remain calm and reflect on how fortunate I am to be safe and healthy…

I’m not sure which way I’d bet on the odds of that scenario working out, however.  This latest delay can’t magically turn me into a completely different person, after all.

But stranger things have happened.  And I’ll give it a try!