My 75th birthday comes next month. I have experienced many joyous moments over the years, including meeting a beautiful young teacher in an elementary school hallway in Rockford, Ill., and marrying her nine months later. Equally memorable was witnessing the birth of our son.

Conversely, I have not been immune from life’s not infrequent slings and arrows — most notably the death of family and friends. The accumulation of years presents its unique quiver of challenges. The most daunting is discovering sudden health “surprises.”

I received such a “surprise” in February when I began experiencing intermittent chest pains that, at first, I dismissed as indigestion. Within days, however, the chest discomfort grew more frequent and intense, prompting me to make an appointment at Penrose-St. Frances Heart and Vascular Center.

Upon my arrival, I was wired to an electrocardiogram. The results indicated that I was experiencing arterial fibrillation (arrhythmia/irregular heartbeats).

I scheduled an echocardiogram and nuclear treadmill stress tests, and the results were sobering. “Our findings indicate you have ischemia,” a registered nurse informed me. “Ischemia is a condition where the arteries to the heart aren’t providing a sufficient amount of blood. If it’s not corrected, it can lead to myocardial infarction, a heart attack.”

The next step along this cardiac journey to remedy my ailing arteries was to meet with Dr. Clinton Malone, an Interventional Cardiologist (a cardiologist who typically practices catheter-based heart operations). Shortly after our introduction, I found myself on his operating table with his goal to perform angioplasty to restore blood flow through my restricted arteries.

Angioplasty is most effective when blockages are relatively minor. Unfortunately, Malone discovered my blockages were major: two severely blocked arteries and a third that was in less than ideal condition. He informed me that I required immediate open-heart surgery and contacted Dr. Betty Shin Wun Kim, the cardiothoracic surgeon on call that weekend, to arrange for her to operate the following morning.

The one blessing of learning one requires immediate open-heart surgery is there’s little time to brood. However, I did find time in the still hours of the night in the hospital to count my blessings.

Shortly after dawn, I was wheeled from my hospital bed to the pre-operation suite where I was greeted by my wife, Shirley, and my son, Hascy, whose smiles belied the palpable concern reflected in their eyes.

I asked Kim the sobering question: “What is the likelihood that I might not survive the operation?” She paused before responding calmly, “No more than 5% chance of such an outcome.”

After the four-hour procedure, Kim emerged from the operating theater into the waiting room and informed Shirley and Hascy that she performed three successful bypasses and the Maze procedure. Each of the next five days that I remained in the hospital, Kim monitored my physical progress.

I learned that she received her undergraduate degree from Yale College and earned her medical degree from Yale University School of Medicine. As a member of the U.S. Army, Kim completed her general surgery residency and a cardiothoracic fellowship at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. She rose to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel and served as a cardiothoracic surgeon with the 21st Combat Support Hospital in Operation Iraqi Freedom.

I learned from a nurse — one of many at Penrose who have abiding admiration for Kim — that before opting to pursue a medical career, she was a classical concert pianist. “I’ve never heard her play the piano,” he told me the night before my operation, “but, I’ll tell you this, she’s a phenomenal surgeon. You’ll be in the best of hands tomorrow.”

He’s right. Kim is phenomenal, as is virtually everyone I encountered during my week at Penrose. The entire sweep of personnel could not have been more competent and caring.

The question that perplexed me while I recovered is how do you adequately thank those who saved your life? Offering thanks, which I did in profusion, seems hardly adequate.

What I do know is that I will forever be in debt to the Penrose community, none more so that Kim. When I think of her, I’m reminded of a splendid painting, “The Agnew Clinic,” by Thomas Eakins and, specifically, the inscription he carved into the frame. The scene is of Dr. David Hayes Agnew and his medical colleagues performing a partial mastectomy in a medical amphitheater. The canvas was commissioned by students of the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine to present to Agnew upon his retirement.

The inscription reads: “Dr. Hayes Agnew M.D. Most experienced surgeon … most venerated and beloved …” So, too, Dr. Kim.