Quadruple Bypass

In a quiet room where hope hung low,

Uncle John lay still, patient as the snow.

The morning light streamed through the window pane,

Casting warmth on a heart that had weathered pain.

With steady hands, the surgeons began their task,

In whispered prayers, we found strength to ask.

They worked with precision, each heartbeat a plea,

For every breath, a miracle we longed to see.

Quadruple bypass, a dance with fate,

A chapter of struggle, but never too late.

With wires and tubes, he faced the unknown,

A warrior in battle, his courage was shown.

Days turned to nights, recovery’s embrace,

With each passing moment, he found his own pace.

The laughter returned like soft summer rain,

As friends gathered ‘round to share in the gain.

Physical therapy, each step was a fight,

Yet Uncle John stood, a beacon of light.

“I’m alive!” he proclaimed, joy bursting anew,

With gratitude echoing, his spirit it grew.

Now he tells tales of resilience and grace,

Of love, of family—a warm, sacred space.

Through challenges faced, he stands tall and proud,

Uncle John, our hero, forever endowed.

So raise a glass to the journey he’s made,

A testament to strength that will never fade.

In the heart of our family, his story will live,

A tribute to triumph, and the love we all give.