Heart Scene: An Evening with Heart , The American Heart Association Gala

What lies beyond us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

The title to one of Frankie Valli’s hits, Oh, What a Night, aptly describes the night we had at the American Heart Association’s Heart Gala 2008.

We arrived at the Waterfront Banquet Facility on North River Street in Wilkes-Barre sometime after 6 p.m.

We were greeted warmly by Julanne Hogan, Gala Director and Jason Jarecki, Communications and Marketing Director. As we made our way to the dining room, someone called out to us, “We watch your show. It’s great.” We were off to a very good start.

I was dressed in a classic After Six Tuxedo that I had purchased for an award ceremony many years ago. Much to my delight, it still fits.

Kitch bought me a fancy white shirt for the evening, and although I felt a bit uncomfortable in formal attire, it was beginning to settle in on me that this was going to be a very special experience for the both of us.

Once inside the dining room, we were surrounded by beautifully decorated tables divided evenly on both sides of a hardwood dance floor that was in the center of the room.

It was a very festive occasion. That was documented by the convivial greeting we received from one of our inspirations, Karen Stavish. As we posed for a picture and made small talk, I wondered how Karen would react when she discovered that her kindness to us would be central to my remarks.

No sooner was the picture taken when Genny Falzone appeared and greeted us warmly before introducing us to her husband, Frank. Genny was one of our nurses in the cardiac step-down unit, and she helped us during our cardiac rehabilitation sessions.

Of all the people we met, Kristen Mullen owned the most infectious smile in the room. A photographer for the Citizens Voice, Kristen’s smile lit up the room wherever she went. Her face is a roadmap of Ireland on a beautiful summer afternoon.

She is pleasant, professional and a delightful young woman who worked the room with charm and grace. "Would you mind if I took your picture?" she asked.

How could one refuse such an enchanting young lady? "Not at all," we replied.

Outside a huge white tent housed a cash bar and the items that were featured in the silent auction designed to raise money for the Luzerne County Chapter of the American Heart Association.

There we met Dr. George Moses and his date. Dr. Moses is one of the "good guys" of our community. We have known him for years. He was one of my mother's favorite people.

Shortly after my picture was taken with Dr. Moses, I felt a cold sensation in my throat. I swallowed whatever it was and thought nothing of it.

We made our way back into the dining room, and we took our seats at table number five. It was the Host table as in Dr. William Host, the CEO of the Wyoming Valley Health Care System.

Marisa Burke, our master of ceremonies for the evening, was just about to start the program.

Marisa covered many news stories with Kitch in the days when WARM radio was the king of the hill in Northeastern Pennsylvania. The two met and had a wonderful conversation shortly after we arrived.

As Marisa talked about the program and people began to eat their salad, I felt a strange sensation in my nose.

Then it happened, with geyser-like force, blood spurted from my right nostril. The night of my dreams was about to enter damage control mode as I tried unsuccessfully to prevent the flow from soiling the white tablecloth and my new shirt.

In seconds I was in the Men's Room surrounded by a wonderful medic named Rich who I first met me in the Cath Lab at the General Hospital in June, Judy Maxwell, a charming nurse who manages the operating rooms at Wilkes-Barre General Hospital and Jason Jarecki. They came to help.

After what seemed to be an eternity, we made some progress. My nostril packed with tissue, I returned to the empty seat next to Kitch whose face was etched with an expression of worry and concern.

I assured her that everything was fine, and I would be OK. I actually believed that, and things went well through dinner and the live auction that followed.

When Rusty Flack, a WVHCS board member and our auctioneer, finished his work, and the winners of the trip to Africa, Colorado and Mexico were certified, Marisa introduced Maggie Koehler, the CFO of the Wyoming Valley Health Care System.

As if choreographed by a dark spirit, when Maggie spoke these words, "I am pleased to introduce this 2008 Luzerne County Heart and Stroke Gala Honoree, Dr. Anthony Mussari," my red Niagara began to flow again.

The moment I had been waiting for since September, the opportunity of a lifetime very well might not happen.

In some ways, it was like Memorial Day all over again. The pain was not as great nor was the danger, but it hit me with such speed I barely had time to think.

With my speech in one hand and some tissues in another, I walked to the podium. The room grew silent. I went into a zone that is reserved for teachers, preachers and performers who are about to deliver their first line.

Intense, determined and focused, but never showing my fear or at least trying not to, the words came easily, "I dedicate these remarks to a woman who has been an inspiration for me. On January 29, she wrote a letter about Heart Scene: A Journey of Discovery and Recovery, and the word she used to characterize our work touched my heart in a special way."

As I spoke, I devised a way to swallow the blood during my pauses. My hands shook as I struggled to turn the pages of my speech. At one point these pages became somewhat of a Jackson Pollock painting, sprinkled with the bright red blood that was flowing again.

There was an instant when I thought to myself: "Perhaps I should just give up and politely excuse myself?" The answer was a resounding "no." I would forge ahead advising the audience that I was experiencing a problem with a nose bleed, but i would do my very best to give them what they deserved.

I did just that occasionally using tissues Kitch had sent to the podium to help me. As I approached the end of the speech and the words of Coach Herb Brooks, "Great Moments are born from great opportunities," the fingers on my right hand were covered with blood and the pockets of my tux were filled with soiled tissues.

The speech ended, and much to my surprise, I received what will be the last standing ovation of my lifetime.

it was a stunning moment. I did it. I had my moment. I told my story. It affirmed Dr. Michael Harostock and his team of caring and competent professionals. I talked about my near-death experience, and how it transformed my life, and I didn't disappoint the audience or Karen Stavish.

It was over now, and the words of Emerson raced through my memory: "Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail."

Like Rocky Balboa, I searched the audience for Kitch.

By the time I got back to the table, the nose bleed turned into a hemorrhage, and with the help from Kitch and the Falzones, I was taken to the emergency room at Wilkes Barre General Hospital.

That is a story for another time and place.

As we left the parking lot I could hear the lyric of one of the most popular songs of the year I graduated from college:

Oh, what a night.
Late December back in '63.
What a very special time for me,
'Cause I remember what a night.

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