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Heading into the procedure, I can honestly say I was nervous, apprehensive, downright frightened and to a lesser degree excited... all at the same time. While I tried to put up a brave front, inside I was terrified.

Even though this procedure was considered routine... well, maybe not routine but at least pretty simple, I shouldn't have been worried, but I was. This time I was going to know everything that was happening around me and everything that was going to happen to me.

At least a million thoughts were racing through me head, maybe more. What would happen in the procedure? Would I be awake or be asleep? Would I feel when they went up through my groin to insert the stint?

What would the first day and night of recovery be like? I have been told I was heavily sedated after the first procedure, because I was thrashing around all night and even tried to take out my breathing tube. Would I need a breathing tube to get this procedure? And what about the dreaded urinary catheter... would I need one of them, too?

So on the day in question, my wife and I set off to get to the hospital in Saginaw. On our travels down M-81, we stopped of at the Wal-Mart in Caro to pick up a few odds and ends we needed over the course of the next few days. While I was there, I was really hesitant to leave. Maybe if I continued shopping for the next several years, I wouldn't have to go.

Now this probably sounds funny, because I have been so adamant about turning my life around, not only for myself, but for my wife and daughter as well. So it wasn't like I was ever seriously contemplating putting of my procedure or not going, but I was just hesitant.

It was just all happening so fast. It seemed like a week or two ago I was at home recovering from my heart attack and in the blink of an eye, it was eight weeks later and it was time for my second procedure. Actually a lot has happened in the two months since the original incident; I've changed my eating habits, given up the things that poisoned my body, lost weight and really embraced the second chance I'd gotten.

Despite my nervousness and figurative knobby knees, we checked out at Wal-Mart and continued on to St. Mary's. After a mishap while checking in (I disregarded my sign-in instructions and ended up in the wrong place), I was in my own little cubby, I mean curtained area, in the world's most unflattering hospital gown.

Soon, one of the nurses was drawing my blood for labs prior to the procedure and it wasn't too long after that the "vampires" were back for more. Apparently, some nurses are good enough to draw your blood, but not to draw blood for a type and cross.

Shortly after the test were run, a nurse came in concerned that my cholesterol was high, which we all knew since my incident. However, when she told me how "high" it was, I nearly jumped around and danced around.

So what was the magic number? It was 256, which most consider to be way too high. But when you consider the fact that it was 325 on the day of my attack, I was happy. That was a lot of progress in just two months.

And so to answer the question, I take Lipitor daily, eat Cheerios each morning (they promise that with a bowl a morning for six weeks, you can lower your cholesterol by four percent) and have cut down on the fried, greasy fast food that plugged up my arteries and helped my cholesterol soar through the roof.

After this consult, I was wheeled to the operating room, where a nice lady proceeded to shave my groin and the tops of my legs, which tickled something awful. A heart attack couldn't kill me, but I thought this lady was going to make me laugh myself to death.

After I was tickled more than an Elmo doll, I was given some IV medication. I was told I would be awake for the procedure and could answer questions and that there would be something rubbed by my incision that would numb the area, but also burn. Luckily, the medicine kicked in first and slowly put surely things started to get a little foggy.

At first I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, that hearing that I was given medicine was making me react in a certain way.

I had awhile to think about it, because a minute or two later I was asleep. When I woke up an hour later, my doctor informed me he had examined the original stent, which was fine and had placed the first of two stents (the first time I heard I was getting two and not one). I went back under while the next stent was put in and woke up when the doctor asked me to take a breath and hold it. It seemed like the whole thing took twenty minutes, but lasted about 1 1/2 hours.

A long, uneventful night later and I was on my way home the next afternoon.

After a Thursday and Friday of relaxation, I was back covering baseball/softball regionals at Reese and this past week made treks to SVSU for quarterfinals and Battle Creek for the semis. Needless to say, I'm feeling pretty close to one hundred percent at this point.

In another positive note, my doctor has said that in three months I will be able to ride roller coasters, but shouldn't start with the crazy ones. Next summer, I should be back at Cedar Point standing in an hour long line, waiting to ride the Maverick. The summer of 09' can't come soon enough.