Heartbroken in Oceanside

Hello to anyone who is reading the first post of my new blog, "Straight From the Heart."  I am a 56-year-old Southern California resident, who works as a freelance writer/journalist.  I have blogged in the past about travel, which is my passion and what I spend my "extra" money on, but this blog is different.  It's personal, very personal.  It's all about my "broken heart."
And no, this isn't a country song, I didn't get fired from my job, my dog didn't die and my girl didn't leave me.
I'm talking about a different kind of heartbreak - the kind where a doctor in a white coat tells you that, essentially, your heart is broken.  In my case, the specific diagnosis was "severe aortic stenosis," which simply means that the aortic valve in my heart needs to go because it's kaput.  In its place will be a new valve, which could be made of metal and plastic, or tissue from a pig or cow.  I will get to some of those details in later posts.
For now, I'll just give you a little bit of the "how I got here."
About 8 or 9 years ago, I began to have what I call palpitations, and what a medical type would call heart arrhythmia.  I went to see a cardiologist, who noticed a heart murmur, which is a funny, kind of squishy sound that my heart makes on each beat.
The next thing I know, I'm having a test in which some lubricating jelly is squeezed onto my chest, and a handheld device with a bulb on the end is being moved around through the lubricant.  It's like a sonogram that a woman has to check her pregnancy, only this procedure is aimed at the heart.
I was told that I had aortic stenosis and one day, several years in the future, I would need a new heart valve.
Well,that day is today, about seven years after my initial diagnosis.
I'm not happy about it, but I don't have a whole lot of choice.  You see, there is no treatment for aortic stenosis other than replacement of the valve.  There's no pill or shot that can remove the calcium that has built up on the "leaves" of my heart valve, which is slowly closing up the opening to the aorta, the artery that carries life-giving, oxygenated blood to my entire body.
So, now I am looking at the prospect of, gulp, open heart surgery, and it's not fun anymore.
In subsequent posts, I will write about some of the decisions that I must make with the help of my doctors.  And what I know about the procedure I am facing, and what lies in store for me after the operation.
So fasten your seat belt, we're about to hit some turbulence, and things may get bumpy!