Yup, I came THIS close...

The morning of Sunday May 16 was clear, a good day for surgery.

We'd decided that neurosurgeon Dr. Carl Bruce would be our man for the brain surgery, and that the permanent solution (clipping the aneurysm by opening the skull) would be a better choice than packing the aneurysm with coils, via the blood vessels.

And Dr. Bruce's credentials were (and are) impeccable, with both Scottish and Canadian pedigrees. So no air ambulance to Orlando, thanks.

Instead, I continued to enjoy the hospitality of the Tony Thwaites wing, Room 5B, where the service from the medical team was quick, professional and courteous.

Erlinda was with me, as you would imagine, but she didn't get a lot of conversation from me that morning, because they began giving me "quiet" stuff pretty early, and I started getting groggy.

It was interesting to me that I was perfectly calm, unworried about how the surgery would turn out. We'd prayed together, and I'd decided that I couldn't affect the outcome of the surgery, and whatever God decided was right would be fine with me. Except, of course, that I didn't like the idea of leaving Erlinda as a widow. That wasn't too appealing.

So somewhere before 9:00 a.m., they wheeled me into the operating room and the surgery started soon afterward.

I wish I had pix of the surgery itself to share with you, but unfortunately I wasn't able to do snapshots at that time, since I was otherwise occupied.

Erlinda sat and waited (not so patiently) in the lobby, probably wishing she could be at least a spectator in the operating room.

As a registered nurse for more than 33 years (yes, she's over 29 years old) she's served in many nursing capacities.

Fortunately, she had company: Pat Haakmat came by to provide moral support.

So did Jeff Sutherland and his wife, Blossom, who both stayed for hours.

Melford Thompson helped make the atmosphere brighter. He's almost always upbeat and positive.

And Iralyn Trott offered her support, both to Erlinda and to Pat.

I was in the operating room until almost 9:00 p.m. (can you believe it?). Finally, when it was all over, they took me to the Intensive Care Unit.

Yes, I know, this picture sure doesn't look like late evening. That's because I took it some weeks later.

The next day, Monday, Erlinda was able to come visit me, although I don't remember much of her visit, since I was very much under the influence of some pretty strong pharmaceuticals.

I think I do remember her face looking a mite concerned, though.

Thanx to Tony for this image and several others in this series.

Also on Monday, my Brother Tony arrived from Orlando, just about the same time as my Uncle Roy Ebanks, brother to my late Uncle Harvey Ebanks. They got suited up to come in and see me.

As I looked at this pic later, I kinda wondered, were they protecting themselves from me, or vice versa?

Apparently I was able to move my arms around and talk to them.

In this shot, they seem pretty intent on what I have to say, although I'm not sure it was completely intelligent, considering all the stuff being pumped into my veins.

Later, they took a break from their vigil (actually, the hospital staff allowed them only brief, sporadic visits) to drop in at Hope Gardens, where there is a great vegetarian restaurant, complete with jungle motif.

As you can see, Tony's chair is empty, since he was the photo shooter. The lady between Erlinda and Iralyn is Beverly Adams, who was kind enough to accommodate Erlinda in her home for a couple nights. The rest of the time (once I left ICU), Erlinda stayed with me, in my room, 24 hours. What a gal! Love her.

After three days in the ICU, they transferred me on Wednesday back to the Tony Thwaites wing, Room 17.

Over the next few days, a variety of family and friends came to visit. In this pic, Erlinda and Tony are flanking my cousin Lloyd Levy and his wife, Jean, who live in Palm Coast, Florida, but happened to be visiting Jamaica just at this time.

In this shot Tony looks very solicitous, and he was. By now it was Thursday, and I was feeling a bit better.

My head was still all bandaged up, and they still had me on oxygen (although I didn't think I really needed it), plus some kind of drip (saline, perhaps?).

I must tell you that at this point I was largely oblivious to details like that, plus my memories of the first few days after the surgery are hazy at best.