M-I-T-R-A-L. And I can use it in a sentence.

I’ve learned a lot about the mitral valve the past 12 hours. Starting with the spelling. Luckily, I’m a quick learner. Based on a flurry of, well, web research, valve replacement doesn’t really seem like an acceptable option. At least as long as Zora is outwardly asymptomatic for valve leakage. Valve repair has got to be Plan A for any surgery. Maybe the wisdom teeth analogy isn’t so bad. Except, of course, that unpulled wisdom teach won’t kill you. There is that vegetal growth issue.

Still, tomorrow, I think the important thing to do is get Zora home, if possible. And then try and get her to a different hospital, like Columbia Presbyterian. And interestingly, University of Maryland Medical Center in Baltimore is very proud of their repair/replacement ratio. Interesting, because I didn’t think I’d ever want to go to Baltimore for anything other than crab cakes or heroin. Actually, I know that hospital pretty well, as Shock Trauma. It’s where all the seriously hurt cops go. I’ve seem a few bloodied friends of mine there. Most of them pulled through. It’s a good hospital.