A couple we've known for years, some thirty years younger than us, who have experienced their share of fear and anguish through a dread medical condition, hugged my husband yesterday early afternoon when we came across each other on one of the trails in the forest. A year ago our friend Barry underwent surgery that opened his cranium so that a shunt could be put in place that reaches from his brain to his stomach, where it drains the fluid accumulating in his brain.

Barry is an amateur athlete, concerned with his health and his physical condition, involving himself in competitive running and bicycling, a member of the RCMP's SWAT teams, accustomed to responding to hard emergency situations requiring strength of force. Or he was, before his medical condition forced him into retirement. He still is involved in competitive sports. But he is no longer the man we'd known who suffered from nausea, dizzy spells and blackouts.

So he and his wife Sheila had a fairly good idea what we had gone through in the aftermath of my husband's open-heart surgery. And so they were immensely pleased to see my husband out in the ravine for what has for decades been our normal daily recreational hike through the ravined forest where we often meet them. And the hugs were warm and sustained and appreciated.

Only a week earlier I was informed that another of our friends, a similar age to Barry who had described to me his years-earlier episode of heart failure and recovery, is now scheduled for a January surgery to implant a cardiac pacemaker. Rob is a giant of a man, easily six-foot, four-inches in height and with the physiognomy to match. He'd had no warning of his impending heart failure, no indication in the way of symptoms.

And nor did my husband experience any of the classic symptoms that might have alerted us to his compromised heart condition with a compromised (attributed to an undiagnosed and unsuspected previous heart attack) mitral valve that was struggling to perform and major arteries that had become incapable of supplying sufficient oxygen and blood to his heart, through blockage. But invasive nuclear-medicine tests pinpointed the problem interpreted by a cardiac specialist who advised that with my husband's otherwise-excellent physical health he was a good candidate for surgery to preserve the assurance of a trouble-free future.

I can hardly myself believe that I'm no longer on my own, without the presence of my husband accompanying us, taking our two little dogs into the ravine for their daily trysts with nature and other dogs whose walkers are dedicated to immersing themselves for brief periods in this natural setting in our community that so much enhances the quality of our lives in so many ways, from providing a superb recreational opportunity to those interested, to cleansing the air of impurities that accumulate in any urban setting.

We were certainly apprehensive. On previous occasions, my husband had descended the first long hill into the ravine, timed to meet me and our puppies at the conclusion of our hour-like hike. Descending and ascending that hill gave us an idea of just how ready he might be to undertake a far more sustained amble in the forest requiring multiple ascents and descents. But we took our time and but for very brief pauses when we crested hills, this first excursion post-surgery while still in recovery mode went exceedingly well.

I am grateful beyond measure.