2:15 a.m. (2-22-2009)
maybe it's not my bio-
rhythms!
maybe i'm just living
in the wrong part
of the planet;
wrong time zone
wrong latitude,
attitude,
altitude
& daylight savings time
in a couple of weeks
is only gonna
make it
WORSE
-c. rsr 2009 as is all this stuff!
(rsr aka rr)
Monday, February 23, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Have I Got Rhythm?
Well . . . Quite a weekend. Friday nite synagog + interfaith dialog people (Vortex of power: husband, rabbi, & cardio Doc M in same room; worship, food, talk; Dr. M’s nice wife; chocolate dipped strawberries; cream puffs . . .) Lot’s o’ sleep fri-sat-sun. Then home prep for full moon holiday/new year of trees/fruit + nut fest & feast. Small Tu B’Shvat seder here. 6 people, 5 cats. Before that: .6 mile walk up+ down block, gathering moon beams. + before + after that: my pulse feels regular to me, & to an afternoon guest ( a Swedish Jew! Yes!) + to a dinner guest (who used to practice medicine). Can it be . . . that I’m back in sinus rhythm? Keep praying & eating chocolate + fruit, & diovan, flecanide, atenolol, warfarin . . . pet the cat & read a poem by Neruda in Spanish. Steve has a quiz Monday. Tall Bob will stop by and we’ll look at trees in the back yard, which to share, etc.
We forgot to serve KASHA at our dinner, so there’s a pan full in the fridge. Mom’s Dad always said: IF THERE’S A FLY IN THE KASHA, SPIT IT OUT.
Hope + love to all.
Ciao + MEOW!
– rr
We forgot to serve KASHA at our dinner, so there’s a pan full in the fridge. Mom’s Dad always said: IF THERE’S A FLY IN THE KASHA, SPIT IT OUT.
Hope + love to all.
Ciao + MEOW!
– rr
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Begin here (=Part Two)
Begin again, begin here, begin now.... dear few readers: it is a new
month, a new day, a new evening. Diego is standing by helping me type;
Gabrielle is in the bathroom towel drawer ( a good warm spot!), Steve
sits on the couch and writes by hand. Two tabbies sleep in the
kitchen. Luna, who is actually a tortie tab, is on top of the fridge,
and Sheyna Meydel is on a beloved desk chair. I think I saw Frida dive
into the pink room, which has many hiding places.
I am sitting up typing which is progress for me and less on Steve's
"to do" list. Steve has selected an attractive font for me, in size
18, which I like and recommend for the myopic and presbyotic amongst
us.
This first day of February started out lovely and mild; sky: blue; and
inside a geranium produces a peach blossom. I hauled in a window box
at autumn's end and we are likely to have petunias soon! Not bad, eh?
As for me: sleep was deep and long and upon waking my body wanted and
had REST, really good rest, with three cats taking turns joining me.
Gobs and Sheyna and Diego took turns having individual cuddle time. I
thought to get up and be ready to walk when Steve came home from the
library but a short amount of time vertical in the kitchen made it
clear to me that more horizontal was what my body wanted. My pulse
feels slightly more regular to my untrained hand but I am still not
sure what is going on with me. I will take up my theme of where did
January go but first: some big news of today, and then a preface here
in the second day of this typing re: how I got into this epistle....
Ethel (Steve's mama) called early this afternoon. Virgil died last
night. He was 89 and nearly two months and his ticker had been running
on only a cylinder or two so it wasn't a surprise but everyone agrees
it is still sad. Ethel is the youngest of 7 siblings. She had 3
sisters and 3 brothers. Now she has only one living sister, Lura, who
is two years older than is she.
All their lives, even into their 80's, Ethel and Lura were referred
to, by their older sibs, as "the little girls." So now only the little
girls remain.
Virgil was a twin and Viola, his "womb-mate" left this world last
autumn after a swift and ferocious attack by cancer.
They are both missed. Perhaps it is because they were twins, or
because they were the gender balanced center pivot of a large group of
sibs that they had such sweet and sunny personalities. ...
As for these words: as aforementioned, kind and good doctors E. and M.
called Friday. Dr. M. said
"e mail me and tell me how you are." He also said that he could get me
back into sinus rhythm with medication. Dr. E said Call Monday morning
and make an appointment with my secretary to Come Right Back Up Here
and have a cardioversion. Well. That is two different opinions, isn't
it, and how am I the patient and my dear spouse and kitty family, and
extended friends and family beyond this little cottage, to make sense
of it all? I was thinking I had to write Doctors E and M and I
couldn't quite think of where to begin or how to sort it out or what
to tell whom so I decided to do what I usually do: just tell the whole
megilla (that means scroll literally, but in this case and often it
means the whole story) to everybody and push SEND when done and see
what wisdom the universe gives me in return. Not knowing how to sort
it out: begin here, begin now, begin at the beginning.....
Actually "begin here" are the words Steve left on the screen for me
this morning, before he went off to work. Yup, he turned on the Mac
or as we say around here got it all Beamed Up for me his one step away
from Luddite wife. I *am* glad I learned to type on a manual
typewriter, even though I often pound these keys too hard; and I *am*
glad I took typing in summer school in high school even though it may
well have been the summer of love and all I can remember is a certain
dreariness. Anyway: Diego is now on top of the computer, which is
better than sitting on the mouse pad biting my hand moving the mouse,
and we were saying, WHERE DID JANUARY GO??? And what is going on
inside this body of mine, especially with mi corazon?
So: it was Elvis' birthday, and then it was the eve of the full moon.
We were ensconced at the Ray-Mar, subsisting nicely on microwaveable
food, and Luna was stretched out on the bed, totally luxuriating on
being the Queen of Room 23 and The Only Cat in the room. It was a mild
evening; synagog services were lovely. Despite some discomfort I could
feel new good energy coming from my heart. Yes, sinus rhythm! We
walked from the synagog to the infusion center and then tarried a
while outside the Gonda Building, loving the Chihuly. I was amazed:
gaze this way and see the full moon; gaze that way and see the 13 part
giant Chihuly! And the weather was mild with cloud cover and I felt
great walking back to the car.
Then I had to take the lasix, and the next day, the other lasix. They
exhausted me, but they did what they were supposed to do and took off
the fluid that was sitting on my lungs. Seven pounds gone! I had a
Headache with a capitol H and attributed it first to the lasix then to
the anesthetic then to the cardioversion....and days later Dean the
nurse-who-talks-like-a-doctor said that some people get a headache
from the catheter going into their atrium. Whatever the cause, I had
the H, and the weather radio was unequivocal about a Big Storm Coming.
We knew Sunday was our only chance to move south to Iowa, but it was a
Honey I Can't kind of a day. My head hurt WAY too much to move and I
was nauseous and dizzy. I looked at the sky (we had a door that opened
directly onto the natural world from our room number 23) and thought,
it looks clear, maybe the weather radio is wrong, but the next day:
there it was. Snow, and snow, and snow coming down, and school getting
out early or closed in Rochester Minnesota and Iowa City Iowa and
everywhere in between. DO NOT TRAVEL except in case of an emergency.
An emergency was what we didn't want to have so we exercised Wisdom
and stayed put even though Steve was about to miss the first day of
first year, second semester, Spanish, at 9 in the morning; and no two
ways about it, he was going to miss the second day too...
The snow was fine for a walk and walk we did. I felt strong and
healthy. We ate out: an omlette.
The next day (Tuesday the 13th) we left our motel home and got
ourselves on the road, after a stop at the wonderful Good Food Coop
and some soup and nut/veggie burgers in The Back Room Deli. (When in
Rochester, do go there! Also stop and gaze at the Chihuly even though
you are passing by when Gonda is locked. You can love the giant glass
art from the sidewalk, and even from your car....)
Per orders, we stopped and walked every hour, or, in some cases,
after only 45 minutes, so that I would not clot. (Sitting for the 4
hour car ride was absolutely forbidden!) There was no more snow coming
down, but there was wind, and it was COLD. In little towns in
Minnesota and Iowa we left the car running, Luna warm inside, and
walked two blocks down and two up again in Main Street USA. When we
entered Iowa at Chester and stopped for gas the nice lady in the
convenience store said O HONEY! It is so cold out. You can just walk
around my store. She was a sweetie and told us her story of good care
at Mayo; cancer survivor; many pounds lost.
By the time we got to Waterloo it was colder and light was waning so
we opted to hike all the aisles at the Hy-Vee supermarket just north
of Allen Memorial Hospital where our dear friend Barbara sometimes
works. We thought of her and said hello to the building. Oh, back at
Hy-Vee we bought two pears.
Between Waterloo and Cedar Rapids we took it slow and stayed in the
right lane as snow was coming down again......
BEGINNING AGAIN, BEGINNING HERE, BEGINNING NOW: 7:57 p.m. 2-2-09
The sky is overcast. Small snowflakes fall. I don't know what the
groundhog saw today. Despite intentions to walk with Steve, I didn't
get out. Through the window I saw a good looking sunny day. Bits and
pieces of the mundane got done. And, I got myself in and out of the
tub and put on fresh clean loungewear, thus in some way preparing
myself to join the normal beings.
But I am not normal now. Something is wrong.
For sure I am in a-fib. How I got here and what to do about it are the
questions.
I will resume the chronology of January, but first some comments
symptoms and questions from NOW.
And of course, thanks, especially today to Kirsten who, when I
returned her call, gave me her e mail and promised to pass this
epistle on to Dr. E. I don't think she expected it to be so long, and
it will be a surprise to him too, as well as to Dr. M, but at least it
should arrive legibly typed. As aforementioned I don't /didn't know
where to begin so I tell all and let the reader skim skip or delete.
One never knows what is important. Once I interviewed an old Rabbi and
he told me about teaching an Israeli guest how to eat potato chips.
The non-American was about to take utensils to that side dish on the
plate next to the Famous Nebraska Steak and the Sensitive and Clear
Thinking and Tactful Rabbi simply said " May I have one of those?" and
reached over and fingered a potato chip, thus teaching by example.
This anecdote was DELETED from the transcript of my interview with the
rabbi when the interview was published in the journal of the Nebraska
Jewish Historical Society. Extraneous? Perhaps to some. But I thought
it was a gem.
Speaking of gems: when I told Maria they gave me more joules this year
than they did in '05, during cardioversion, she said, Oh they gave you
jewels? Rubies and emeralds....... Well we need something to laugh
about in the worst of times (which this isn't but something is
wrong...it's a fib......).
It took me an hour to get from out-of-the-tub to sitting at this
computer. During my few days in normal sinus rhythm *that* symptom was
gone. What symptom? Well, for many years I had what I called my p.b.h.
(Post Bath Headache)(Not to be confused with GBH, Great Blue Heron);
or, at the very least, a tremendous need to remain horizontal in my
post-bawth dry cycle. In my young teens I sat on the shower floor mid
washing, to guard against falling from lightheadedness. I never told
my parents about it at the time, and I had black coffee and aspirin
for breakfast most high school mornings. When I was under the care of
the Wonderful Doctor Kelly Cobb who graced us with her wise and
intuitive healing for about 7 or 8 years before moving to Louisiana
from whence she came and we were trying to figure out my headaches she
said I Think Something Vascular Is Going On. This was well before my
a-fib diagnosis. I think Something Vascular has been going on for a
long time, and at the very least I experienced episodes of a fib on
occasion before they became persistent and then diagnosed.
Particularly memorable: a huffy puffy incident in the late 20th
century while attempting to hike with my sister up a mountain along
the Hudson River in New York.....
So, it is with Effort that I sit here. I yearn for the horizontal. Any
minute now I am going to take a break into it. I really need a lap
top. I can't fathom laying back pen in hand and scrawling all these
words only to ask Steve to type them on my behalf when he comes home
from The History Of Jazz. The words are coming out of my fingers just
now and they are awakening more words. Last night I couldn't sleep
because I was thinking about the stories I want to write, stories
significantly removed from this topic. Stories R Us. It's my calling.
But my stamina is low. A break is needed now.... There, I've got my
legs up on the low table and the keyboard is resting on a pillow which
is resting on my thighs. This will have to do for now if I want to
get this work of words done tonight, which I do. Of course, I can't
see the keyboard so I will have to trust that summer school, high
school typing class to see me through. (How I love the old Royals!)
And, a lot of proof reading by me later, and by Dear Steve.
Another symptom is this breaking out in sweats.
So, what to do about it, docs and lay people?
I want to call forth a team of advisors and have you come to some
agreement. PLEASE???
A-fib feels so incredibly like anxiety, but I know what I feel is a-fib.
Post bath while horizontal I was looking at the Dec. 08 Yoga Journal.
It has poses for anxiety relief. Would that help a-fib?
In one place in the article I skimmed the Journal says pressure on on
the bones under the eyes slows the heartbeat. Many of the asanas or
poses are inversions, and my instinct tells me not to do them. Am I
right? It wasn't even a month ago that a catheter snaked from my leg
to my heart....
Mayo's exit instructions were a little vague.
No lifting for a week, not more than 5 or 10 pounds (which is it, 5
or ten?); after a week, return to work. Do not remain sedentary. Walk
every day. I phoned the nurse who seems like a doc who is actually a
physician extender, a funny term that fills my funny mind with an
image of a gizmo with which to reach boxes of tea off high shelves. So
I asked the PE what should I do, it's cold out; should I lie on the
floor and do some crunches? And he said NO! We were in there with
catheters. Don't do any ab isometrics and NO! Don't go out and walk
in this cold. Don't even breathe that cold air! We were down your
esophagus..
It's true, they were, and it often feels like a bunch of wrestlers or
some circus acrobats are in there jumping around. But that feeling is
subsiding. It's not quite a month. Healing is slow. But then again, a
month is a third of the three months that follow the ablation, the
critical three months in which I've got to remain in sinus rhythm, and
I'm already out....So, what to do, team??? Please, Help me now...
Ok, I'm sitting up....There are just too many typos. I had to look. I
don't know how long I can sit up. I will have to take breaks.
It hurt to sit up. That's another symptom but I don't know what it is.
In the area of my lower right abdomen, about 4 inches right of the
belly button and an inch down there is a pain. It's sharp and it has
been there since yesterday. Persistent. And hurts more with position
shifts. Is it a) a muscle pull from yesterday's typing session (for I
sit here on a futon with legs akimbo and rear on futon and computer on
low table) b)something to do with the journey of the catheter up that
right side or c&d) something to do with my digestive or reproductive
systems? That has nothing to do with the ablation or this typing?
Because truth be told I've felt that pain before, intermittently for
at least a year but never this constant. Do I need an ab ultra sound
or what? Didn't I have a whole body CT scan two months ago (almost)?
Would that rule out....whatever????
But what to do next, what to do....
I must have been in sinus rhythm for just a few days. Or a week and a
half? When I had my inr checked 6 days ago and a nurse came and
listened to my heart and felt my pulse I said what's it like and she
said FIB. But I already knew that then. What was a surprise was: she
said *it felt like fib when you were here on the 16th too* and I said
IT DID??? If so that would give me not even a normal week at home.
Then she said that was you wasn't it and if she doesn't know, well how
do I? Since we exited the hospital together and she had a bike helmet
on and we had a conversation now we probably have more of a sense of
who one another is. Are. Whatever.
Anyway...back to the chronology: I felt pretty good but my activity
was limited, partly by Our Climate, or The Weather. Then on the 22nd
of January I went out to see Dave the Great PT who had gotten me into
great shape between a fall on a bone on bone knee in '02 and the
slowing down after the diagnosis of a fib in 04. I didn't want
*ANYONE* to touch my torso but Dave worked on my left arm creaky with
the old elbow break that never was correctly set after injury, and he
did some gentle Headache Be Gone work on my occiput. Then I went to
be Gentle in the Gym. I rode the stationary recumbent bike 5 miles. It
felt easy but I did notice my rate was erratic on the wrist readout;
then again my speed wasn't consistent either. I felt fine. I took the
elevator upstairs and was determined to walk .
.......................................
........... It is 8:51 and I am back in the bed. My wrist won't like
this and I don't have the strength to get up and get my wrist support.
No one is in this room but me and Luna and she woke from her nap and
looked at me and said NOW. She did. Say NOW. Write this now.
Even in fib, the recumbent, with its back on which to lean, wasn't too bad.
Then with ridiculous determination I took the elevator upstairs and
walked 4 rounds clockwise and 4 rounds counter-clockwise, or vise
versa, making a mile. I had That Huffy Puffy Feeling and the voice in
my head chanted am I in fib or am I just deconditioned, am I in fib or
am I just deconditioned . . . I gave myself permission to tarry at the
windows, well placed at frequent intervals, to really tarry and catch
my breath and watch the play of soon-to-be-sunset light on the
landscape. Then I drove home. And hours later commenced the "Judaism
is aerobic" pre-Sabbath (1-22) housecleaning prep, and I *really* felt
huffy and puffy, and I slept good and sound, and woke for meds with
breakfast and slept again, a deep nap, tired in my mind and my muscles
including my heart. . .The good nap caused Lateness to the cardiology
appointment. The EKG was not a surprise. A-FIB. (1-23-09)
Oh -- of course three days before we were part of the miracle of the
powershift. The kitties, Steve, and I huddled 'round the radio just
like grandma and grandpa did and listened to the inauguration. Someone
will give us a disk; we'll see the colors in motion, even though we
saw them in the newsprint, and NPR's power of verbal description met
the day. The kits clearly paid attention. They liked best the speech
by our new president, and the classical music.
President Barak Obama can you help me now?
Sec'y of Health Daschle, who was on the board of Mayo, and was Senator
of one of my previous homes (South Dakota), can you help me now?
I was exhausted, and felt Lost in the Universe, though happy to have a
new President and to be in the season of Aquarius. . .
And the Chinese New Year came, a Cow Year, and I felt no shift and my
INR was a bit low. And I went to a New Doctor here on the east side,
so as not to have all my docs in one University basket. She's two
years older than am I, and smart, and personable. We had great
rapport. She said: we are old cars.
Then Mary gave me gentle healing touch and said I was cold all over
but there was lots of heat coming off my heart, like energy leaking.
She told me to visualize my heart beating normally and to think that
where and how I was was just the way things were supposed to be. The
music she had--possibly Native American flute--was conducive. . .
And then I didn't go out to hear Mary's brother sing. I couldn't.
And then the 2 Good Doctors called, and it was Sabbath again. In the
Global Jewish Book Club we read about getting out of Egypt.
Had I been in de Nile?
No, I *was* better for a little bit of time! Steve saw it: my energy
shift up, then come crashing down again. He said it was dramatic. (The
sinus week; the fib again week.) He said I thought I understood
before, but now I really understand.
Then January ended, and it was February, and it was now, and now---What?
There is a Fellow in Cardiology here at the U of I (UIHC), a very nice
fellow. He was in the Twin Cities, and he could have gone to Mayo, but
he chose UIHC. Amazing! And he is from Nigeria. His first name means
"on-the-right-path." So, I get it, that Doctor On The Right Path
wanted to come here and work with Kind and Good Dr. M. And that it's
smaller here. He has more opportunities. But: he thinks there are so
many doctors at Mayo each one doesn't necessarily have as much
experience as the good docs here. But: my first cardiology experience
at UIHC was a traumatic one with Dr. Bad + Mean. And, though they both
allege to be tertiary health care clinics, most of the time I, and
many, many other people I know, feel themselves, as patients, to be at
the bottom of the isosceles triangle at UIHC.
The Mayo team feeling is palpable. Everyone's nice. But: in this year
I felt myself to be more in the hands of paraprofessionals half my age
than Real Doctors. Then again, in '05 I had the good fortune to be
under the care of kind and wonderful Dr. E who just happened to be on
Joseph floor 4 when I was.
Minnesota and Iowa have crazy rivalry.
Each state makes jokes about its neighbors.
Minnesota has lakes. Iowa has rivers. Minnesota is a union state. Iowa
is a right to work (yourself to death) state.
Rochester, Minnesota, and Iowa City, Iowa, are both company towns.
In downtown Rochester there's the Mayo campus, and its surrounding
eateries and hotels.
In I.C., there's the U, and it's surrounding bars, and hordes of
adolescent males so full of beer and testosterone they may at any
moment puke on their shoes. Or yours.
In I.C. the civil religion is football, not our favorite thing. Guys
bashing into each other? War games? Sheer brawn? And with the
requisite beer and brawl afterwards?
But Iowa produced a former governor who is now Sec'y of Agriculture!
And Minnesota doesn't even know who their senator is.
Minnesota is Scandinavian. One person who drew my blood had a tattoo
peeking out of his shirt sleeve. Is that a Celtic design, said I? No,
it's Viking, said he. Me: Are you a Viking? Him: Viking's not an
ethnic group; it's a job description.
Oh, wow. . .
Iowa has more people of German origin than any other state. Also more
Methodists.
So what does this have to do with anything? Not much, except that I'd
like to visit a Minnesota state park. . .
And the Mayo Clinic has a wonderful palpable team sensibility. And
UIHC is renowned for a competitive feeling, a pecking order like the
worst dysfunctional family.
But, I never received a thorough report from Mayo after this visit,
like I did in '05.(NOTE: IT ARRIVED LATER THE SAME DAY!!!!!) Is that a
particular delinquency, a change in protocol, or an accidental
omission; or, in the case of the thorough report in '05, the work of
the Great Dr. E???
I have a friend living and dying in Saint Paul, from ALS. I have to go
thataway anyway.
But now, but now.....
Near the Mayo campus, in downtown Rochester, there is a mosque, and
next to the mosque is a store. In December I bought thick
Levantine/African yogurt there. All the men had beards, and the ends
of all their beards were dyed orange. I didn't know why, or who to
ask.
In January a woman from Somalia came to my hospital room to draw my
blood. Her hair was covered, her fingers were long; her hands
especially beautiful. Her father ran a gas station, and spoke seven
languages, and taught his children to Respect Other Cultures. She
explained to me about the Eid it was in December, and how henna-ing
the beard is a way to dress up for the holiday.
Everyone I met in Rochester--the many people from there who chose to
stay, and the people from Cambodia, Somalia, Trinidad, and England,
seemed to like it there.
Well, I'm a New York born 2nd generation American. I belong in the
shtetl, on the border of Russia and Poland. I belong in a world that
flourished between two World Wars and was destroyed.
As far as I know, none of my ancestors, before my parents, lived into
their 80's. Oh maybe one or two. On both sides of the family we are
full of heart disease. And words. We are the people of the book. We
are full of what we read, and stories we tell.
And I need help figuring out the next chapter of this story of me. Of
mi corazon.
Dear Team of Who is Out There
Dear Kind and Good Doctors E and M
can you help me now?
Can we have a cabinet meeting and come up with a plan? A team of
opposites working together, here in the wonderful world of a new
president, whose life, like mine, has been shaped not by competition
but by organization and cooperation?
For the first time in my life I am older than the president!
I know it's greedy, but I want to see a little more of this world, to
act in it, to walk in it, to breathe in it, and to write about it. I
want to be strong and fit again, like I was under Dave's care, before
the a-fib diagnosis of '04 (which nearly coincided with the
re-election of the Bad President, and heartbreak for the whole wide
world).
I can't do much now. The lasix took that 7 pounds away. I got rid of
another 5, by carefully limiting my intake when (once again) confined
to couch potato land. I take the flecanide almost precisely. Steve
helps me so much: oatmeal and flecanide early, then more
sleep.....Okay, today there was Wheatina and it got into my nightgown
and on the sheets but...I'm trying! What should I do now besides
STOP WRITING ALREADY??
month, a new day, a new evening. Diego is standing by helping me type;
Gabrielle is in the bathroom towel drawer ( a good warm spot!), Steve
sits on the couch and writes by hand. Two tabbies sleep in the
kitchen. Luna, who is actually a tortie tab, is on top of the fridge,
and Sheyna Meydel is on a beloved desk chair. I think I saw Frida dive
into the pink room, which has many hiding places.
I am sitting up typing which is progress for me and less on Steve's
"to do" list. Steve has selected an attractive font for me, in size
18, which I like and recommend for the myopic and presbyotic amongst
us.
This first day of February started out lovely and mild; sky: blue; and
inside a geranium produces a peach blossom. I hauled in a window box
at autumn's end and we are likely to have petunias soon! Not bad, eh?
As for me: sleep was deep and long and upon waking my body wanted and
had REST, really good rest, with three cats taking turns joining me.
Gobs and Sheyna and Diego took turns having individual cuddle time. I
thought to get up and be ready to walk when Steve came home from the
library but a short amount of time vertical in the kitchen made it
clear to me that more horizontal was what my body wanted. My pulse
feels slightly more regular to my untrained hand but I am still not
sure what is going on with me. I will take up my theme of where did
January go but first: some big news of today, and then a preface here
in the second day of this typing re: how I got into this epistle....
Ethel (Steve's mama) called early this afternoon. Virgil died last
night. He was 89 and nearly two months and his ticker had been running
on only a cylinder or two so it wasn't a surprise but everyone agrees
it is still sad. Ethel is the youngest of 7 siblings. She had 3
sisters and 3 brothers. Now she has only one living sister, Lura, who
is two years older than is she.
All their lives, even into their 80's, Ethel and Lura were referred
to, by their older sibs, as "the little girls." So now only the little
girls remain.
Virgil was a twin and Viola, his "womb-mate" left this world last
autumn after a swift and ferocious attack by cancer.
They are both missed. Perhaps it is because they were twins, or
because they were the gender balanced center pivot of a large group of
sibs that they had such sweet and sunny personalities. ...
As for these words: as aforementioned, kind and good doctors E. and M.
called Friday. Dr. M. said
"e mail me and tell me how you are." He also said that he could get me
back into sinus rhythm with medication. Dr. E said Call Monday morning
and make an appointment with my secretary to Come Right Back Up Here
and have a cardioversion. Well. That is two different opinions, isn't
it, and how am I the patient and my dear spouse and kitty family, and
extended friends and family beyond this little cottage, to make sense
of it all? I was thinking I had to write Doctors E and M and I
couldn't quite think of where to begin or how to sort it out or what
to tell whom so I decided to do what I usually do: just tell the whole
megilla (that means scroll literally, but in this case and often it
means the whole story) to everybody and push SEND when done and see
what wisdom the universe gives me in return. Not knowing how to sort
it out: begin here, begin now, begin at the beginning.....
Actually "begin here" are the words Steve left on the screen for me
this morning, before he went off to work. Yup, he turned on the Mac
or as we say around here got it all Beamed Up for me his one step away
from Luddite wife. I *am* glad I learned to type on a manual
typewriter, even though I often pound these keys too hard; and I *am*
glad I took typing in summer school in high school even though it may
well have been the summer of love and all I can remember is a certain
dreariness. Anyway: Diego is now on top of the computer, which is
better than sitting on the mouse pad biting my hand moving the mouse,
and we were saying, WHERE DID JANUARY GO??? And what is going on
inside this body of mine, especially with mi corazon?
So: it was Elvis' birthday, and then it was the eve of the full moon.
We were ensconced at the Ray-Mar, subsisting nicely on microwaveable
food, and Luna was stretched out on the bed, totally luxuriating on
being the Queen of Room 23 and The Only Cat in the room. It was a mild
evening; synagog services were lovely. Despite some discomfort I could
feel new good energy coming from my heart. Yes, sinus rhythm! We
walked from the synagog to the infusion center and then tarried a
while outside the Gonda Building, loving the Chihuly. I was amazed:
gaze this way and see the full moon; gaze that way and see the 13 part
giant Chihuly! And the weather was mild with cloud cover and I felt
great walking back to the car.
Then I had to take the lasix, and the next day, the other lasix. They
exhausted me, but they did what they were supposed to do and took off
the fluid that was sitting on my lungs. Seven pounds gone! I had a
Headache with a capitol H and attributed it first to the lasix then to
the anesthetic then to the cardioversion....and days later Dean the
nurse-who-talks-like-a-doctor said that some people get a headache
from the catheter going into their atrium. Whatever the cause, I had
the H, and the weather radio was unequivocal about a Big Storm Coming.
We knew Sunday was our only chance to move south to Iowa, but it was a
Honey I Can't kind of a day. My head hurt WAY too much to move and I
was nauseous and dizzy. I looked at the sky (we had a door that opened
directly onto the natural world from our room number 23) and thought,
it looks clear, maybe the weather radio is wrong, but the next day:
there it was. Snow, and snow, and snow coming down, and school getting
out early or closed in Rochester Minnesota and Iowa City Iowa and
everywhere in between. DO NOT TRAVEL except in case of an emergency.
An emergency was what we didn't want to have so we exercised Wisdom
and stayed put even though Steve was about to miss the first day of
first year, second semester, Spanish, at 9 in the morning; and no two
ways about it, he was going to miss the second day too...
The snow was fine for a walk and walk we did. I felt strong and
healthy. We ate out: an omlette.
The next day (Tuesday the 13th) we left our motel home and got
ourselves on the road, after a stop at the wonderful Good Food Coop
and some soup and nut/veggie burgers in The Back Room Deli. (When in
Rochester, do go there! Also stop and gaze at the Chihuly even though
you are passing by when Gonda is locked. You can love the giant glass
art from the sidewalk, and even from your car....)
Per orders, we stopped and walked every hour, or, in some cases,
after only 45 minutes, so that I would not clot. (Sitting for the 4
hour car ride was absolutely forbidden!) There was no more snow coming
down, but there was wind, and it was COLD. In little towns in
Minnesota and Iowa we left the car running, Luna warm inside, and
walked two blocks down and two up again in Main Street USA. When we
entered Iowa at Chester and stopped for gas the nice lady in the
convenience store said O HONEY! It is so cold out. You can just walk
around my store. She was a sweetie and told us her story of good care
at Mayo; cancer survivor; many pounds lost.
By the time we got to Waterloo it was colder and light was waning so
we opted to hike all the aisles at the Hy-Vee supermarket just north
of Allen Memorial Hospital where our dear friend Barbara sometimes
works. We thought of her and said hello to the building. Oh, back at
Hy-Vee we bought two pears.
Between Waterloo and Cedar Rapids we took it slow and stayed in the
right lane as snow was coming down again......
BEGINNING AGAIN, BEGINNING HERE, BEGINNING NOW: 7:57 p.m. 2-2-09
The sky is overcast. Small snowflakes fall. I don't know what the
groundhog saw today. Despite intentions to walk with Steve, I didn't
get out. Through the window I saw a good looking sunny day. Bits and
pieces of the mundane got done. And, I got myself in and out of the
tub and put on fresh clean loungewear, thus in some way preparing
myself to join the normal beings.
But I am not normal now. Something is wrong.
For sure I am in a-fib. How I got here and what to do about it are the
questions.
I will resume the chronology of January, but first some comments
symptoms and questions from NOW.
And of course, thanks, especially today to Kirsten who, when I
returned her call, gave me her e mail and promised to pass this
epistle on to Dr. E. I don't think she expected it to be so long, and
it will be a surprise to him too, as well as to Dr. M, but at least it
should arrive legibly typed. As aforementioned I don't /didn't know
where to begin so I tell all and let the reader skim skip or delete.
One never knows what is important. Once I interviewed an old Rabbi and
he told me about teaching an Israeli guest how to eat potato chips.
The non-American was about to take utensils to that side dish on the
plate next to the Famous Nebraska Steak and the Sensitive and Clear
Thinking and Tactful Rabbi simply said " May I have one of those?" and
reached over and fingered a potato chip, thus teaching by example.
This anecdote was DELETED from the transcript of my interview with the
rabbi when the interview was published in the journal of the Nebraska
Jewish Historical Society. Extraneous? Perhaps to some. But I thought
it was a gem.
Speaking of gems: when I told Maria they gave me more joules this year
than they did in '05, during cardioversion, she said, Oh they gave you
jewels? Rubies and emeralds....... Well we need something to laugh
about in the worst of times (which this isn't but something is
wrong...it's a fib......).
It took me an hour to get from out-of-the-tub to sitting at this
computer. During my few days in normal sinus rhythm *that* symptom was
gone. What symptom? Well, for many years I had what I called my p.b.h.
(Post Bath Headache)(Not to be confused with GBH, Great Blue Heron);
or, at the very least, a tremendous need to remain horizontal in my
post-bawth dry cycle. In my young teens I sat on the shower floor mid
washing, to guard against falling from lightheadedness. I never told
my parents about it at the time, and I had black coffee and aspirin
for breakfast most high school mornings. When I was under the care of
the Wonderful Doctor Kelly Cobb who graced us with her wise and
intuitive healing for about 7 or 8 years before moving to Louisiana
from whence she came and we were trying to figure out my headaches she
said I Think Something Vascular Is Going On. This was well before my
a-fib diagnosis. I think Something Vascular has been going on for a
long time, and at the very least I experienced episodes of a fib on
occasion before they became persistent and then diagnosed.
Particularly memorable: a huffy puffy incident in the late 20th
century while attempting to hike with my sister up a mountain along
the Hudson River in New York.....
So, it is with Effort that I sit here. I yearn for the horizontal. Any
minute now I am going to take a break into it. I really need a lap
top. I can't fathom laying back pen in hand and scrawling all these
words only to ask Steve to type them on my behalf when he comes home
from The History Of Jazz. The words are coming out of my fingers just
now and they are awakening more words. Last night I couldn't sleep
because I was thinking about the stories I want to write, stories
significantly removed from this topic. Stories R Us. It's my calling.
But my stamina is low. A break is needed now.... There, I've got my
legs up on the low table and the keyboard is resting on a pillow which
is resting on my thighs. This will have to do for now if I want to
get this work of words done tonight, which I do. Of course, I can't
see the keyboard so I will have to trust that summer school, high
school typing class to see me through. (How I love the old Royals!)
And, a lot of proof reading by me later, and by Dear Steve.
Another symptom is this breaking out in sweats.
So, what to do about it, docs and lay people?
I want to call forth a team of advisors and have you come to some
agreement. PLEASE???
A-fib feels so incredibly like anxiety, but I know what I feel is a-fib.
Post bath while horizontal I was looking at the Dec. 08 Yoga Journal.
It has poses for anxiety relief. Would that help a-fib?
In one place in the article I skimmed the Journal says pressure on on
the bones under the eyes slows the heartbeat. Many of the asanas or
poses are inversions, and my instinct tells me not to do them. Am I
right? It wasn't even a month ago that a catheter snaked from my leg
to my heart....
Mayo's exit instructions were a little vague.
No lifting for a week, not more than 5 or 10 pounds (which is it, 5
or ten?); after a week, return to work. Do not remain sedentary. Walk
every day. I phoned the nurse who seems like a doc who is actually a
physician extender, a funny term that fills my funny mind with an
image of a gizmo with which to reach boxes of tea off high shelves. So
I asked the PE what should I do, it's cold out; should I lie on the
floor and do some crunches? And he said NO! We were in there with
catheters. Don't do any ab isometrics and NO! Don't go out and walk
in this cold. Don't even breathe that cold air! We were down your
esophagus..
It's true, they were, and it often feels like a bunch of wrestlers or
some circus acrobats are in there jumping around. But that feeling is
subsiding. It's not quite a month. Healing is slow. But then again, a
month is a third of the three months that follow the ablation, the
critical three months in which I've got to remain in sinus rhythm, and
I'm already out....So, what to do, team??? Please, Help me now...
Ok, I'm sitting up....There are just too many typos. I had to look. I
don't know how long I can sit up. I will have to take breaks.
It hurt to sit up. That's another symptom but I don't know what it is.
In the area of my lower right abdomen, about 4 inches right of the
belly button and an inch down there is a pain. It's sharp and it has
been there since yesterday. Persistent. And hurts more with position
shifts. Is it a) a muscle pull from yesterday's typing session (for I
sit here on a futon with legs akimbo and rear on futon and computer on
low table) b)something to do with the journey of the catheter up that
right side or c&d) something to do with my digestive or reproductive
systems? That has nothing to do with the ablation or this typing?
Because truth be told I've felt that pain before, intermittently for
at least a year but never this constant. Do I need an ab ultra sound
or what? Didn't I have a whole body CT scan two months ago (almost)?
Would that rule out....whatever????
But what to do next, what to do....
I must have been in sinus rhythm for just a few days. Or a week and a
half? When I had my inr checked 6 days ago and a nurse came and
listened to my heart and felt my pulse I said what's it like and she
said FIB. But I already knew that then. What was a surprise was: she
said *it felt like fib when you were here on the 16th too* and I said
IT DID??? If so that would give me not even a normal week at home.
Then she said that was you wasn't it and if she doesn't know, well how
do I? Since we exited the hospital together and she had a bike helmet
on and we had a conversation now we probably have more of a sense of
who one another is. Are. Whatever.
Anyway...back to the chronology: I felt pretty good but my activity
was limited, partly by Our Climate, or The Weather. Then on the 22nd
of January I went out to see Dave the Great PT who had gotten me into
great shape between a fall on a bone on bone knee in '02 and the
slowing down after the diagnosis of a fib in 04. I didn't want
*ANYONE* to touch my torso but Dave worked on my left arm creaky with
the old elbow break that never was correctly set after injury, and he
did some gentle Headache Be Gone work on my occiput. Then I went to
be Gentle in the Gym. I rode the stationary recumbent bike 5 miles. It
felt easy but I did notice my rate was erratic on the wrist readout;
then again my speed wasn't consistent either. I felt fine. I took the
elevator upstairs and was determined to walk .
.......................................
........... It is 8:51 and I am back in the bed. My wrist won't like
this and I don't have the strength to get up and get my wrist support.
No one is in this room but me and Luna and she woke from her nap and
looked at me and said NOW. She did. Say NOW. Write this now.
Even in fib, the recumbent, with its back on which to lean, wasn't too bad.
Then with ridiculous determination I took the elevator upstairs and
walked 4 rounds clockwise and 4 rounds counter-clockwise, or vise
versa, making a mile. I had That Huffy Puffy Feeling and the voice in
my head chanted am I in fib or am I just deconditioned, am I in fib or
am I just deconditioned . . . I gave myself permission to tarry at the
windows, well placed at frequent intervals, to really tarry and catch
my breath and watch the play of soon-to-be-sunset light on the
landscape. Then I drove home. And hours later commenced the "Judaism
is aerobic" pre-Sabbath (1-22) housecleaning prep, and I *really* felt
huffy and puffy, and I slept good and sound, and woke for meds with
breakfast and slept again, a deep nap, tired in my mind and my muscles
including my heart. . .The good nap caused Lateness to the cardiology
appointment. The EKG was not a surprise. A-FIB. (1-23-09)
Oh -- of course three days before we were part of the miracle of the
powershift. The kitties, Steve, and I huddled 'round the radio just
like grandma and grandpa did and listened to the inauguration. Someone
will give us a disk; we'll see the colors in motion, even though we
saw them in the newsprint, and NPR's power of verbal description met
the day. The kits clearly paid attention. They liked best the speech
by our new president, and the classical music.
President Barak Obama can you help me now?
Sec'y of Health Daschle, who was on the board of Mayo, and was Senator
of one of my previous homes (South Dakota), can you help me now?
I was exhausted, and felt Lost in the Universe, though happy to have a
new President and to be in the season of Aquarius. . .
And the Chinese New Year came, a Cow Year, and I felt no shift and my
INR was a bit low. And I went to a New Doctor here on the east side,
so as not to have all my docs in one University basket. She's two
years older than am I, and smart, and personable. We had great
rapport. She said: we are old cars.
Then Mary gave me gentle healing touch and said I was cold all over
but there was lots of heat coming off my heart, like energy leaking.
She told me to visualize my heart beating normally and to think that
where and how I was was just the way things were supposed to be. The
music she had--possibly Native American flute--was conducive. . .
And then I didn't go out to hear Mary's brother sing. I couldn't.
And then the 2 Good Doctors called, and it was Sabbath again. In the
Global Jewish Book Club we read about getting out of Egypt.
Had I been in de Nile?
No, I *was* better for a little bit of time! Steve saw it: my energy
shift up, then come crashing down again. He said it was dramatic. (The
sinus week; the fib again week.) He said I thought I understood
before, but now I really understand.
Then January ended, and it was February, and it was now, and now---What?
There is a Fellow in Cardiology here at the U of I (UIHC), a very nice
fellow. He was in the Twin Cities, and he could have gone to Mayo, but
he chose UIHC. Amazing! And he is from Nigeria. His first name means
"on-the-right-path." So, I get it, that Doctor On The Right Path
wanted to come here and work with Kind and Good Dr. M. And that it's
smaller here. He has more opportunities. But: he thinks there are so
many doctors at Mayo each one doesn't necessarily have as much
experience as the good docs here. But: my first cardiology experience
at UIHC was a traumatic one with Dr. Bad + Mean. And, though they both
allege to be tertiary health care clinics, most of the time I, and
many, many other people I know, feel themselves, as patients, to be at
the bottom of the isosceles triangle at UIHC.
The Mayo team feeling is palpable. Everyone's nice. But: in this year
I felt myself to be more in the hands of paraprofessionals half my age
than Real Doctors. Then again, in '05 I had the good fortune to be
under the care of kind and wonderful Dr. E who just happened to be on
Joseph floor 4 when I was.
Minnesota and Iowa have crazy rivalry.
Each state makes jokes about its neighbors.
Minnesota has lakes. Iowa has rivers. Minnesota is a union state. Iowa
is a right to work (yourself to death) state.
Rochester, Minnesota, and Iowa City, Iowa, are both company towns.
In downtown Rochester there's the Mayo campus, and its surrounding
eateries and hotels.
In I.C., there's the U, and it's surrounding bars, and hordes of
adolescent males so full of beer and testosterone they may at any
moment puke on their shoes. Or yours.
In I.C. the civil religion is football, not our favorite thing. Guys
bashing into each other? War games? Sheer brawn? And with the
requisite beer and brawl afterwards?
But Iowa produced a former governor who is now Sec'y of Agriculture!
And Minnesota doesn't even know who their senator is.
Minnesota is Scandinavian. One person who drew my blood had a tattoo
peeking out of his shirt sleeve. Is that a Celtic design, said I? No,
it's Viking, said he. Me: Are you a Viking? Him: Viking's not an
ethnic group; it's a job description.
Oh, wow. . .
Iowa has more people of German origin than any other state. Also more
Methodists.
So what does this have to do with anything? Not much, except that I'd
like to visit a Minnesota state park. . .
And the Mayo Clinic has a wonderful palpable team sensibility. And
UIHC is renowned for a competitive feeling, a pecking order like the
worst dysfunctional family.
But, I never received a thorough report from Mayo after this visit,
like I did in '05.(NOTE: IT ARRIVED LATER THE SAME DAY!!!!!) Is that a
particular delinquency, a change in protocol, or an accidental
omission; or, in the case of the thorough report in '05, the work of
the Great Dr. E???
I have a friend living and dying in Saint Paul, from ALS. I have to go
thataway anyway.
But now, but now.....
Near the Mayo campus, in downtown Rochester, there is a mosque, and
next to the mosque is a store. In December I bought thick
Levantine/African yogurt there. All the men had beards, and the ends
of all their beards were dyed orange. I didn't know why, or who to
ask.
In January a woman from Somalia came to my hospital room to draw my
blood. Her hair was covered, her fingers were long; her hands
especially beautiful. Her father ran a gas station, and spoke seven
languages, and taught his children to Respect Other Cultures. She
explained to me about the Eid it was in December, and how henna-ing
the beard is a way to dress up for the holiday.
Everyone I met in Rochester--the many people from there who chose to
stay, and the people from Cambodia, Somalia, Trinidad, and England,
seemed to like it there.
Well, I'm a New York born 2nd generation American. I belong in the
shtetl, on the border of Russia and Poland. I belong in a world that
flourished between two World Wars and was destroyed.
As far as I know, none of my ancestors, before my parents, lived into
their 80's. Oh maybe one or two. On both sides of the family we are
full of heart disease. And words. We are the people of the book. We
are full of what we read, and stories we tell.
And I need help figuring out the next chapter of this story of me. Of
mi corazon.
Dear Team of Who is Out There
Dear Kind and Good Doctors E and M
can you help me now?
Can we have a cabinet meeting and come up with a plan? A team of
opposites working together, here in the wonderful world of a new
president, whose life, like mine, has been shaped not by competition
but by organization and cooperation?
For the first time in my life I am older than the president!
I know it's greedy, but I want to see a little more of this world, to
act in it, to walk in it, to breathe in it, and to write about it. I
want to be strong and fit again, like I was under Dave's care, before
the a-fib diagnosis of '04 (which nearly coincided with the
re-election of the Bad President, and heartbreak for the whole wide
world).
I can't do much now. The lasix took that 7 pounds away. I got rid of
another 5, by carefully limiting my intake when (once again) confined
to couch potato land. I take the flecanide almost precisely. Steve
helps me so much: oatmeal and flecanide early, then more
sleep.....Okay, today there was Wheatina and it got into my nightgown
and on the sheets but...I'm trying! What should I do now besides
STOP WRITING ALREADY??
January 31st, 2009
Dear Iota of the Blogosphere,
Hello!
It's been a long month --
One of the biggest, right? And it has passed oddly for us, some of the
time marching along in sinus rhythm and some of the time plodding
along to its (my!) own strange beat.
Thank you to all for good wishes, and special thanks to yesterday's
special helpers who arrived by phone and car in the hours before
Sabbath: Mom and Dad, who helped us make bail; Drs. E and M, who
called to check in on me, and lifted much of the weight of the world
off my heavy heart; and Reb A and Chayele and baby MM, who made
delicious soup, baked challah, and delivered it to us in the midst of
preparing for their own family Shabbes. Thank you, thank you, thank
you, many more times than those words can fill these pages.
Note re: bail: we weren't in jail but we were feeling rather locked up
by debt. Yes, insurance pays for hospitalization, but it doesn't pay
for the motel down the block (for the husband and cat), nor for the
gas for the car for the 200 miles each way, nor for the headlight that
burned out. (At least that's what we think the problem is. We hope the
car does not have more significant electrical problems as does its
owner. Monday asap we will make an appointment with the The Car Doctor
to diagnose and repair the The One Eyed Car, hopefully before it calls
attention to itself.)
To whom it may, I'm back in a-fib, and I'm back in bed. I can barely
keep my head up. It occurs to me the cause of that might not be the
fib, but might be the newest med to join my pillbox, Diovan. It's a
cutie: nice shape, nice enough color. It doesn't get stuck en route
down the esophogus.
Every new pill (despite the seriousness of its necessity) gives me a
chuckle. Just think: someone has a JOB (for the pharmaceutical
industry) coming up with a shape, a color, and a name. It's evident to
me that in recent years the Naming Dudes have been hanging out at the
far end of the alphabet. Vioxx, Viagra, Zoloft, Xanax . . . What are
they thinking? My personal prize still goes to Premarin. Yes, please,
tell it like it is: Pregnant Mare Urine. Very nice, Drug Namers!
Also thanks to Maria, Masterful Nurse and Good Friend with whom I had
a long and lovely conversation Thursday night. She was the right
person to call at the right time.
And endless thanks to Steve, who has been doing a great job taking
care of me, and the house, and picking up the slack from my dropped
end of the rope of our universe, while juggling two jobs and taking
two classes.
And our wonderful kitty nurses, surround me with fur love and laying
on of paws . . . .
Speaking of bail: here's an odd syncronicity. The accused meat packing
plant owner 2.5 hours up the road made his bail this week too, and it
was 10 times mine. That's what he had to pay, which is one tenth of
the amount the judge set -- which is to say that amount is another 10
times more. This is apropos of nothing, except multiplying things by
ten (so easy! just add zero!), contextualizing dollar amounts, and
noting odd details. Watch your newpapers for the trial in a few
months. Meanwhile, The Accused is confined to Allamakee County which,
besides having a name that nicely rolls off the tongue, is one of the
lovlier places in Iowa. And, it's approximately halfway between here
and the Mayo Clinic!
What's up here: it was a lovely mild day, but I didn't attempt to
walk. I'm back in bed, and writing by hand, so when you read each one
of these words know that dear Steve put them on to the computer.
What's up medically: recap with hindsight and new news
January 5th early in the morning we checked into St. Mary's, which is
the part of the Mayo Clinic where heart stuff happens. It's also the
original hospital that some Sisters (as in nuns) built for the Dad of
the Brothers Mayo. Its atmosphere is cloistered; statues are Catholic.
(This is in marked contrast to Mayo's downtown campus where you can
find Miro and a giant 13 part Dale Chihuly and much more!)
I had a room at the end of the hall, a nice quiet courtyard facing
room as far from the nursing station as I could get, in the Francis
quadrant of the hospital. In fact, my room was a glance away from the
room I was in for my 2 previous visits, a street side room in the
Joseph wing, at a busy corridor intersection where doctors gathered to
confer and horizontal and wheel chaired patients rolled by frequently
en route to testing areas down another hall. In between my '05 and '09
rooms were elevators, with a statue of St. Francis and birds and small
mammals facing them. In 2005 we had photographed Steve and Luna with
St. F and the animals and we had said goodnight there most evenings so
it was good to see those old friends.
After check ins and tests I was taken away to a prep room and then a
procedure room, and Steve and Luna went off to the Ray-Mar Motel.
After a wait with a nice view (the back of the towers at the 2nd
Street entrance; me well oriented and facing due north; the sky blue)
I can't tell you much about what happened except to say I was OUT for
more hours than I had been since my tonsillectomy (52 years ago? when
they used ether and I was a noncompliant little girl whose last words
pre-procedure were: I'm not going to breathe that stuff, I'm going to
hold my breath forever . . . deep inhale . . . and wake in bed with
blood on the pillow and offerings of vanilla ice cream . . . ).
The drug I was given was fentanyl, which Wikipedia says is 80 times
stronger than opium. I felt no pain. My heart was entered via
catheters through my veins; anticipated work was done (except some
work on my right atrium wasn't expected). Dr. B assured me that while
I was under the team had done everything they could to make me go into
a-fib and I remained in sinus rhythm. Thus, a success.
I was rolled back to my room, reunited with Steve, and I had to lie
excruciatingly still for hours. I was hooked up to tubes, including IV
fentanyl. You don't want all the details, do you? I'm proudest of what
I said when I regained consciousness in the procedure room, just three
distilled requests:
Where's Steve?
Where's my cat?
Can I have some water?
More on the water later, but suffice it to say the procedure was
presumed to be a success.
The next day (Tuesday 6 Jan.) I sat in a chair, had lunch, and was on
the phone when I felt suddenly exhausted and wanted to lie down . . .
and that was the moment that I went back into a-fib. 11:57 a.m.
Discussion: what meds. Tikosyn suggested then dismissed: my fears were
not unfounded. What it does to QT intervals is exactly what we don't
want for mine. (If you are not a doctor you probably don't understand
this. Rest assured, neither do I, but one day I will read that book
about how to read and EKG . . . ) Decision: a return to flecanide, my
previous drug, an old friend abandoned a month prior.
Hindsight awareness: why was I only given 2 doses of flecanide before
my cardioversion the next day? If I had been "loaded" on at least five
doses, as I was in 05, according to protocol, would I be in sinus
rhythm now? I want to flip the calendar pages back to 1-7-09 and spend
the day resting in my hospital room and have 3 doses of flecanide, and
have my cardioversion the next day, and rest all that Thursday, and be
monitored, and ingest lasix to take off the 7 pounds of water that
were dripped into me during the Monday procedure, and move to the Ray
Mar Friday.....
As it was there was a whole lot of Hurry Up going on. In hindsight my
faith in Mayo drops. I had a cardioversion Wednesday morning (1-7-9)
and the room in which it was done spun around me when I came to. It
seemed like I was allowed to pause a very short time befoe I was
rolled into a recovery area...and the world spun a few minutes there
and then I was wheeled back to my room. I had to ask the person who
pushed me to Please Stop A Minute and Go Slower Please because of all
the whirling. Back in room it seemed like a team of cheerleaders were
jumping up and down saying Eat! Eat!Eat because we have to get that
flecanide in you and we know it makes you sick on empty. I said ya
gotta give me 20 minutes Please. Then I ate then I felt puke-ey but I
didn't . Then I had a Headache with a capital H and the doc said
That's no reason to stay in the hospital and I said wanna make a deal,
give me rx to make the headache go away and I'm outta here....deal
accomplished.
Mayo has a good exit protocol: don't go too far after discharge just in case.
We walked the one block to Ray Mar. I got an hour of tv comedy
Wednesday and Thursday, and lots of Luna love. I was back as an
outpatient for low molecular weight heparin infusions every 12 hours
through Sunday morning; I was back for a chest x ray for a cough,
caused by fluid sitting on my lung. I was prescribed 2 lasix and they
wiped me out but the 7 pounds went away. Cindy Nancy Daniel and his
grandpa came to visit Thursday; we visited C+N Saturday after the
infusion. Friday night was mild. We had a nice time at the synagog,
and then walked
.......CONTINUED IN PART 2: BEGIN HERE
Hello!
It's been a long month --
One of the biggest, right? And it has passed oddly for us, some of the
time marching along in sinus rhythm and some of the time plodding
along to its (my!) own strange beat.
Thank you to all for good wishes, and special thanks to yesterday's
special helpers who arrived by phone and car in the hours before
Sabbath: Mom and Dad, who helped us make bail; Drs. E and M, who
called to check in on me, and lifted much of the weight of the world
off my heavy heart; and Reb A and Chayele and baby MM, who made
delicious soup, baked challah, and delivered it to us in the midst of
preparing for their own family Shabbes. Thank you, thank you, thank
you, many more times than those words can fill these pages.
Note re: bail: we weren't in jail but we were feeling rather locked up
by debt. Yes, insurance pays for hospitalization, but it doesn't pay
for the motel down the block (for the husband and cat), nor for the
gas for the car for the 200 miles each way, nor for the headlight that
burned out. (At least that's what we think the problem is. We hope the
car does not have more significant electrical problems as does its
owner. Monday asap we will make an appointment with the The Car Doctor
to diagnose and repair the The One Eyed Car, hopefully before it calls
attention to itself.)
To whom it may, I'm back in a-fib, and I'm back in bed. I can barely
keep my head up. It occurs to me the cause of that might not be the
fib, but might be the newest med to join my pillbox, Diovan. It's a
cutie: nice shape, nice enough color. It doesn't get stuck en route
down the esophogus.
Every new pill (despite the seriousness of its necessity) gives me a
chuckle. Just think: someone has a JOB (for the pharmaceutical
industry) coming up with a shape, a color, and a name. It's evident to
me that in recent years the Naming Dudes have been hanging out at the
far end of the alphabet. Vioxx, Viagra, Zoloft, Xanax . . . What are
they thinking? My personal prize still goes to Premarin. Yes, please,
tell it like it is: Pregnant Mare Urine. Very nice, Drug Namers!
Also thanks to Maria, Masterful Nurse and Good Friend with whom I had
a long and lovely conversation Thursday night. She was the right
person to call at the right time.
And endless thanks to Steve, who has been doing a great job taking
care of me, and the house, and picking up the slack from my dropped
end of the rope of our universe, while juggling two jobs and taking
two classes.
And our wonderful kitty nurses, surround me with fur love and laying
on of paws . . . .
Speaking of bail: here's an odd syncronicity. The accused meat packing
plant owner 2.5 hours up the road made his bail this week too, and it
was 10 times mine. That's what he had to pay, which is one tenth of
the amount the judge set -- which is to say that amount is another 10
times more. This is apropos of nothing, except multiplying things by
ten (so easy! just add zero!), contextualizing dollar amounts, and
noting odd details. Watch your newpapers for the trial in a few
months. Meanwhile, The Accused is confined to Allamakee County which,
besides having a name that nicely rolls off the tongue, is one of the
lovlier places in Iowa. And, it's approximately halfway between here
and the Mayo Clinic!
What's up here: it was a lovely mild day, but I didn't attempt to
walk. I'm back in bed, and writing by hand, so when you read each one
of these words know that dear Steve put them on to the computer.
What's up medically: recap with hindsight and new news
January 5th early in the morning we checked into St. Mary's, which is
the part of the Mayo Clinic where heart stuff happens. It's also the
original hospital that some Sisters (as in nuns) built for the Dad of
the Brothers Mayo. Its atmosphere is cloistered; statues are Catholic.
(This is in marked contrast to Mayo's downtown campus where you can
find Miro and a giant 13 part Dale Chihuly and much more!)
I had a room at the end of the hall, a nice quiet courtyard facing
room as far from the nursing station as I could get, in the Francis
quadrant of the hospital. In fact, my room was a glance away from the
room I was in for my 2 previous visits, a street side room in the
Joseph wing, at a busy corridor intersection where doctors gathered to
confer and horizontal and wheel chaired patients rolled by frequently
en route to testing areas down another hall. In between my '05 and '09
rooms were elevators, with a statue of St. Francis and birds and small
mammals facing them. In 2005 we had photographed Steve and Luna with
St. F and the animals and we had said goodnight there most evenings so
it was good to see those old friends.
After check ins and tests I was taken away to a prep room and then a
procedure room, and Steve and Luna went off to the Ray-Mar Motel.
After a wait with a nice view (the back of the towers at the 2nd
Street entrance; me well oriented and facing due north; the sky blue)
I can't tell you much about what happened except to say I was OUT for
more hours than I had been since my tonsillectomy (52 years ago? when
they used ether and I was a noncompliant little girl whose last words
pre-procedure were: I'm not going to breathe that stuff, I'm going to
hold my breath forever . . . deep inhale . . . and wake in bed with
blood on the pillow and offerings of vanilla ice cream . . . ).
The drug I was given was fentanyl, which Wikipedia says is 80 times
stronger than opium. I felt no pain. My heart was entered via
catheters through my veins; anticipated work was done (except some
work on my right atrium wasn't expected). Dr. B assured me that while
I was under the team had done everything they could to make me go into
a-fib and I remained in sinus rhythm. Thus, a success.
I was rolled back to my room, reunited with Steve, and I had to lie
excruciatingly still for hours. I was hooked up to tubes, including IV
fentanyl. You don't want all the details, do you? I'm proudest of what
I said when I regained consciousness in the procedure room, just three
distilled requests:
Where's Steve?
Where's my cat?
Can I have some water?
More on the water later, but suffice it to say the procedure was
presumed to be a success.
The next day (Tuesday 6 Jan.) I sat in a chair, had lunch, and was on
the phone when I felt suddenly exhausted and wanted to lie down . . .
and that was the moment that I went back into a-fib. 11:57 a.m.
Discussion: what meds. Tikosyn suggested then dismissed: my fears were
not unfounded. What it does to QT intervals is exactly what we don't
want for mine. (If you are not a doctor you probably don't understand
this. Rest assured, neither do I, but one day I will read that book
about how to read and EKG . . . ) Decision: a return to flecanide, my
previous drug, an old friend abandoned a month prior.
Hindsight awareness: why was I only given 2 doses of flecanide before
my cardioversion the next day? If I had been "loaded" on at least five
doses, as I was in 05, according to protocol, would I be in sinus
rhythm now? I want to flip the calendar pages back to 1-7-09 and spend
the day resting in my hospital room and have 3 doses of flecanide, and
have my cardioversion the next day, and rest all that Thursday, and be
monitored, and ingest lasix to take off the 7 pounds of water that
were dripped into me during the Monday procedure, and move to the Ray
Mar Friday.....
As it was there was a whole lot of Hurry Up going on. In hindsight my
faith in Mayo drops. I had a cardioversion Wednesday morning (1-7-9)
and the room in which it was done spun around me when I came to. It
seemed like I was allowed to pause a very short time befoe I was
rolled into a recovery area...and the world spun a few minutes there
and then I was wheeled back to my room. I had to ask the person who
pushed me to Please Stop A Minute and Go Slower Please because of all
the whirling. Back in room it seemed like a team of cheerleaders were
jumping up and down saying Eat! Eat!Eat because we have to get that
flecanide in you and we know it makes you sick on empty. I said ya
gotta give me 20 minutes Please. Then I ate then I felt puke-ey but I
didn't . Then I had a Headache with a capital H and the doc said
That's no reason to stay in the hospital and I said wanna make a deal,
give me rx to make the headache go away and I'm outta here....deal
accomplished.
Mayo has a good exit protocol: don't go too far after discharge just in case.
We walked the one block to Ray Mar. I got an hour of tv comedy
Wednesday and Thursday, and lots of Luna love. I was back as an
outpatient for low molecular weight heparin infusions every 12 hours
through Sunday morning; I was back for a chest x ray for a cough,
caused by fluid sitting on my lung. I was prescribed 2 lasix and they
wiped me out but the 7 pounds went away. Cindy Nancy Daniel and his
grandpa came to visit Thursday; we visited C+N Saturday after the
infusion. Friday night was mild. We had a nice time at the synagog,
and then walked
.......CONTINUED IN PART 2: BEGIN HERE
Friday, January 16, 2009
Attended by Cats
An hour left of the REAL mlk day! We are back in Spruce Cottage, Kitty Nation. (We = 2 humans , 5 cats.) It’s good to be home and attended by cats! It’s good to wake 2 mornings in a row with Frida on my hip, and to dream at night of Black Cats.
Of course Luna was a bit disappointed. After a week as Queen of room # 23 . . . The Others are STILL HERE??
Greetings to all. Happy soon-to-be-new regime, & good shabbes again. (Steve will post this Friday morning from the community college after Spanish class.)
The week has been long, slow, and restful, except for the 2nd half of the drive home. There’s no way to avoid a mini blizzard caused by a passing 18 wheeler in the left lane, when you are driving cautiously in the right, and it is snowing, is there?
Special thanks to Colleen for feeding us and then demanding that we take her cell phone with us for the last 25 miles.
Mayo has a good policy: release the patient but advise: stay in the area for a day.
I received lasix to take off the water that sat on my lungs. I needed heparin injections twice a day. So, we went back and I was an outpatient.
Friday (1/9) I showered, dried, and dressed and we drove to a lively synagog service: lots of music, a well spoken rabbi, friendly congregation. My energy was up, heart in rhythm, the moon was near full, and cloud cover made the air gentle. We walked to gaze at the giant 13 part Dale Chihuly in the Gonda Building: wow! Moon this way, Chihuly that! And then walked 1 block north for infusion (of heparin), very nice nurses, of course, and in the lobby, a most interesting box. We had no details about it but the nativity scene was evident, as was the beauty. We assumed the handicraft work was done in Jordan, but a call from brother Adam, in which he had enough lines to Google and talk, revealed surprising news. Find out more about this gift from King Hussein and Queen Noor and do stop and see it when in Rochester.
Today’s the first day I didn’t have a severe headache! Some people get a headache from the heart catheters. “They” don’t know why
After care instructions were a bit vague , and a call to Nurse-who-seems-like-a-doctor Dean was most helpful. Getting on the floor and doing crunches is NOT ADVISED. No abdominal isometrics. Really 2 weeks of rest is needed. Gentle walking is good, but that’s not possible in this arctic air and icy land, so stay indoors . . .
Gentle’s the word. Be gentle to yourselves, you few readers, and let us know if you’re taping the inauguration (or who is, and how to watch later the same day). Gentle furry wishes from Kitty Nation! All the best,
RR – etc.
Of course Luna was a bit disappointed. After a week as Queen of room # 23 . . . The Others are STILL HERE??
Greetings to all. Happy soon-to-be-new regime, & good shabbes again. (Steve will post this Friday morning from the community college after Spanish class.)
The week has been long, slow, and restful, except for the 2nd half of the drive home. There’s no way to avoid a mini blizzard caused by a passing 18 wheeler in the left lane, when you are driving cautiously in the right, and it is snowing, is there?
Special thanks to Colleen for feeding us and then demanding that we take her cell phone with us for the last 25 miles.
Mayo has a good policy: release the patient but advise: stay in the area for a day.
I received lasix to take off the water that sat on my lungs. I needed heparin injections twice a day. So, we went back and I was an outpatient.
Friday (1/9) I showered, dried, and dressed and we drove to a lively synagog service: lots of music, a well spoken rabbi, friendly congregation. My energy was up, heart in rhythm, the moon was near full, and cloud cover made the air gentle. We walked to gaze at the giant 13 part Dale Chihuly in the Gonda Building: wow! Moon this way, Chihuly that! And then walked 1 block north for infusion (of heparin), very nice nurses, of course, and in the lobby, a most interesting box. We had no details about it but the nativity scene was evident, as was the beauty. We assumed the handicraft work was done in Jordan, but a call from brother Adam, in which he had enough lines to Google and talk, revealed surprising news. Find out more about this gift from King Hussein and Queen Noor and do stop and see it when in Rochester.
Today’s the first day I didn’t have a severe headache! Some people get a headache from the heart catheters. “They” don’t know why
After care instructions were a bit vague , and a call to Nurse-who-seems-like-a-doctor Dean was most helpful. Getting on the floor and doing crunches is NOT ADVISED. No abdominal isometrics. Really 2 weeks of rest is needed. Gentle walking is good, but that’s not possible in this arctic air and icy land, so stay indoors . . .
Gentle’s the word. Be gentle to yourselves, you few readers, and let us know if you’re taping the inauguration (or who is, and how to watch later the same day). Gentle furry wishes from Kitty Nation! All the best,
RR – etc.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Elvis's Birthday/Discharge
1-8-9
We left last night. We left slowly and on our own 4 feet. The Patient can't carry anything. The Husband slepped, then sat through son John Stewart, then made the next shlep which included a pharmacy stop in the hospital because due to slow + cautious departure & re-reading of notes by RN-who-is-like-a-doctor Dean (+he has a vinyard, too!) Patient realized she needed 6 pills to get through the next few days.
We are now at Ray-Mar, "in the shadow of St. Mary's." We are glad to be in her shadow. We will go back to deliver Thank-you notes, miscellaneous papers . . . . .
The three of us slept in one bed. Luna purred. We will take care of ourselves without nurses and doctors today.
We are not in charge of weather (or of our own heart beats!) but we will try and arrive home safely before shabbes. We can only hope that this plan will be realized. If necessary we can stay here and visit the synagogue with the new Rabbi who used to work at a cooking school in France, even though it's not true what Rabbi Jeff suspected ("a Rabbi who is a cook? Great onegs!") : - )
Yesterday was Molly's birthday. Today is Elvis's, and Nancy's; and Sunday is Daniel's Happy Birthdays! We hope to visit with Cindy, Nancy, Daniel later, today or tomorrow.
For now, we are off to get a heparin injection a mile away, and then come back to our simple room and rest. Oh, Elvis, you were all shook up, but can't boogie right now. Our word for the day is REST, in a simple room.
We wish you peace and rest and health this one week into '09 and love and thanks. And special healing wishes to Ann's Mom and family. The Quaker words Ann sends are good, as are the words you send us.
With gratitude, and happy birthday, and so much more
"We hold you in the Light."
We left last night. We left slowly and on our own 4 feet. The Patient can't carry anything. The Husband slepped, then sat through son John Stewart, then made the next shlep which included a pharmacy stop in the hospital because due to slow + cautious departure & re-reading of notes by RN-who-is-like-a-doctor Dean (+he has a vinyard, too!) Patient realized she needed 6 pills to get through the next few days.
We are now at Ray-Mar, "in the shadow of St. Mary's." We are glad to be in her shadow. We will go back to deliver Thank-you notes, miscellaneous papers . . . . .
The three of us slept in one bed. Luna purred. We will take care of ourselves without nurses and doctors today.
We are not in charge of weather (or of our own heart beats!) but we will try and arrive home safely before shabbes. We can only hope that this plan will be realized. If necessary we can stay here and visit the synagogue with the new Rabbi who used to work at a cooking school in France, even though it's not true what Rabbi Jeff suspected ("a Rabbi who is a cook? Great onegs!") : - )
Yesterday was Molly's birthday. Today is Elvis's, and Nancy's; and Sunday is Daniel's Happy Birthdays! We hope to visit with Cindy, Nancy, Daniel later, today or tomorrow.
For now, we are off to get a heparin injection a mile away, and then come back to our simple room and rest. Oh, Elvis, you were all shook up, but can't boogie right now. Our word for the day is REST, in a simple room.
We wish you peace and rest and health this one week into '09 and love and thanks. And special healing wishes to Ann's Mom and family. The Quaker words Ann sends are good, as are the words you send us.
With gratitude, and happy birthday, and so much more
"We hold you in the Light."
Gratitude & Mistaken Auspicious Dates
1-7-9
More thanks.
If I list all the people who help me here, The Reader (ha ha! You think there is 1 or 2?) will get bored but:
RN Dean-who-is-almost-a-doctor is a fab font of info;Kim comes up with the hair washing in bed equipment;
Hub S. does the job fabulously.
Nurse M. got 4 gold stars (NOT real!) for people skills from this peep.
Nurse R was so much fun.
I could go through the alphabet.
My word of the day is GRATITUDE . . . . . For Luna, S, Jerr; That mom made it to HER doc appt. and got some help I think; That I have COUSINS (yah cousins!) who forward my e's . . . . .
If you have a chance to try Fentanyl, IMHO – DON'T.
Now I might have made a MISTAKE (me?)! S. says Wikipedia sez Bloody Sunday was 1-9-5 not 1-5-5. That's in (our) Gregorian . . .on the old Russian calendars it was 1-22-05. (That would be 1905, my friends!)
[Typist's note: No, that's 1-5-05 oldstyle, 1-22-05 new style.]
Comrades, if you feel so called, check out the failed revolution at the Winter Palace, and for a song (from the highest singer) you might win our spare copy of the fat book The Shadow of the Winter Palace. (Dad, do you want it?) (Did we already give you one?)
Doctor P.B. here (from Merry Old England!) had 1-5-9 AND 1-9-9 available and I chose the former partly influenced by MISTAKEN AUSPICIOUS DATES. So, it's destinay for me to be here 1-5-9 'til 1-9-9? Dunno?
It's snowing in Minnesota Rabbi MW says, "Keep looking forward."
It was SO NICE of her to visit yesterday. I'd love to get to Friday night services.
Love to you all. May the snowflakes falling on your head be gentle . . . . .
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MOLLY!
p.s. Luna was a big hit yesterday and beamed me with her sweet cat scan for hours & hours.
ciao + MIAO!
pps Leaving tonight or TOMORROW for motel.
More thanks.
If I list all the people who help me here, The Reader (ha ha! You think there is 1 or 2?) will get bored but:
RN Dean-who-is-almost-a-doctor is a fab font of info;Kim comes up with the hair washing in bed equipment;
Hub S. does the job fabulously.
Nurse M. got 4 gold stars (NOT real!) for people skills from this peep.
Nurse R was so much fun.
I could go through the alphabet.
My word of the day is GRATITUDE . . . . . For Luna, S, Jerr; That mom made it to HER doc appt. and got some help I think; That I have COUSINS (yah cousins!) who forward my e's . . . . .
If you have a chance to try Fentanyl, IMHO – DON'T.
Now I might have made a MISTAKE (me?)! S. says Wikipedia sez Bloody Sunday was 1-9-5 not 1-5-5. That's in (our) Gregorian . . .on the old Russian calendars it was 1-22-05. (That would be 1905, my friends!)
[Typist's note: No, that's 1-5-05 oldstyle, 1-22-05 new style.]
Comrades, if you feel so called, check out the failed revolution at the Winter Palace, and for a song (from the highest singer) you might win our spare copy of the fat book The Shadow of the Winter Palace. (Dad, do you want it?) (Did we already give you one?)
Doctor P.B. here (from Merry Old England!) had 1-5-9 AND 1-9-9 available and I chose the former partly influenced by MISTAKEN AUSPICIOUS DATES. So, it's destinay for me to be here 1-5-9 'til 1-9-9? Dunno?
It's snowing in Minnesota Rabbi MW says, "Keep looking forward."
It was SO NICE of her to visit yesterday. I'd love to get to Friday night services.
Love to you all. May the snowflakes falling on your head be gentle . . . . .
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MOLLY!
p.s. Luna was a big hit yesterday and beamed me with her sweet cat scan for hours & hours.
ciao + MIAO!
pps Leaving tonight or TOMORROW for motel.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
cous cous; no epiphany
DO NOT PANIC; I AM BACK IN A-FIB
Nurse Dean-who-should-be-a-doctor breaks the new to me:
Tikosyn’s the word.
For a consolation prize I get citrus cous cous salad (* required special notice, 4 hr advance to marinate!)
Neither the Chinese food deliverer or I know from which culture comes this exquisite delicacy. The Reform Rabbi of Rochester knows! This is her first pulpit, but before she was a rabbi she worked at a cooking school in France. The delicacy is North African. Okay—that’s a it general and it doesn’t reflect population trends in patients coming here. Rabbi points out that there might just be someone new in the kitchen. In any case, if you’re ever in hospital at Mayo, order citrus cous cous salad.
. . . . .another hour passes, more news:
After falafel (The Best! King Hussein was here!) it’s back on Flecanide, a drug but one I’ve had before. Then NPO (nothing per oral) after midnight and a cardioverson (=mini-electrocution, sans demise) tomorrow morning. Stay tuned for a report on the latest Mayoist trends in dosage of joules of electricity, and what meds are used in the damatic scenario.
Hope your medical care is much less complex than mine is and that your entrees are at least half as good.
“It’s the day the Wise Guys showed up” explains my husband and translator (from Christian dominant culture to Jew me) but NO EPIPHANY YET this January 6th.
Love to y’all
and ongoing wishes for a fab aught nine
(previous updates)
Nurse Dean-who-should-be-a-doctor breaks the new to me:
Tikosyn’s the word.
For a consolation prize I get citrus cous cous salad (* required special notice, 4 hr advance to marinate!)
Neither the Chinese food deliverer or I know from which culture comes this exquisite delicacy. The Reform Rabbi of Rochester knows! This is her first pulpit, but before she was a rabbi she worked at a cooking school in France. The delicacy is North African. Okay—that’s a it general and it doesn’t reflect population trends in patients coming here. Rabbi points out that there might just be someone new in the kitchen. In any case, if you’re ever in hospital at Mayo, order citrus cous cous salad.
. . . . .another hour passes, more news:
After falafel (The Best! King Hussein was here!) it’s back on Flecanide, a drug but one I’ve had before. Then NPO (nothing per oral) after midnight and a cardioverson (=mini-electrocution, sans demise) tomorrow morning. Stay tuned for a report on the latest Mayoist trends in dosage of joules of electricity, and what meds are used in the damatic scenario.
Hope your medical care is much less complex than mine is and that your entrees are at least half as good.
“It’s the day the Wise Guys showed up” explains my husband and translator (from Christian dominant culture to Jew me) but NO EPIPHANY YET this January 6th.
Love to y’all
and ongoing wishes for a fab aught nine
(previous updates)
Office Window Signs
What t0 read while waiting for a morning echocardiogram: lots of pet pix and quotes.
A very pet friendly support staff here.
Two selections:
"Don't accept your dog's admiration as conclusive evidence that you are wonderful."
--Ann Landers
"Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea."
--Robert A. Heinlein
A very pet friendly support staff here.
Two selections:
"Don't accept your dog's admiration as conclusive evidence that you are wonderful."
--Ann Landers
"Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea."
--Robert A. Heinlein
New Year Greetings
dear peeps,
hello! aloha!
shalom! salaam!
happy aught nine! fare thee well '08!
the night is clear and stars and planets are bright but the chill and the wind are a bit (a bit?) of a deterrent to gazing.
'08's last day ended with a magnificent sunset followed by a young moon and jupiter frolicking together for our enjoyment in the southwest. it was hard to walk on ice and stargaze at the same time but we managed!
having discussed with mr. s that the chinese new year and mlk day and the inauguration of our 44th usa pres would be as good a time for greetings as any here i sit at one of "my" times, the one that comes around a couple of hours after midnight. what can i say? that i am an owl? i was *trying* to settle down but in reviewing the day and preparing for the next one my mind perks up. what can i say? it was something that happened in utero?
this at one time was going to be an us sort of letter, us being 2 humans and five felines, or 155 years of combined mammal wisdom (and only 118 of them human!) but truth be told only ten fingers are on the keyboard. ten others carried this machine up from the basement. this is the south side of the dining room and the home office is supposed to be the south side of the living room but the rooms keep morphing into one another. still it is good to be in a cozy cottage. sure beats a tent and it seems appropriately modest for the cold season and the equally chilling economic forecast.
frida kahlo (a cat!) is massaging a pillow behind me so i am really missing out on something by not leaning back into her magic healing touch...
WE hope this finds you warm and well, all of you, coast to coast and here and there in the middle.
now i might as well get to the me part because there is so much me me me going on it's hard not to....
steve and luna will be part of the trip when WE go to minnesota but i'm the one who is having a catheter ablation for atrial fibrilation next monday which is like any minute now, the 5 of jan, arriving at saint mary's (which is part of mayo) at 5:30 a.m. the weather radio is enough to keep a person up at night. of course we will travel sunday the 4th, marcia's birthday, and her smile will guide our way......
if you want details on the general scenario i suggest
a-fib.com
which, you will find out when you get there, is by and for lay people attempting (like me!!) to understand what is happening when the heart starts marching to the beat of a different drummer. when one's own heart does that.
if you want to know what's up with me, i invite you to visit my blog
RR-HEART.blogspot.com
as best we can (and that part of the we will be mr s) we will try and organize it into sections such as
s's update
just the facts pls m'am
and the bla bla blog itself....
i guess i've been blogging most of my life, since before there was a blog. (you can ask my mother!) i suspect what a blog is is: a log of the bla bla bla that goes on inside of one's own mind. well why would anyone (else!) want to look in there? well, some of us do, and some of us don't, so you are invited, and the choice is yours.
i started the RR-Heart (**we think it's not case sensitive....) in a spiral notebook, one of my Preferred Things on which to write, and the bla bla bla part already in there will have to get typed up. could be worse. i've been enjoying the return to The Pen On Paper but my wrists are tired and it's time for this. Mr S won't e mail or call out much--just one to the folks, and if you know them by all means call esp. since i am worried about the anxiety of the mother. she will worry about me and i will worry about her worrying about me...it's a female thing...no it's a Jewish thing....wuddever...
hmmm i think to do all this ( and the laundry as well) (but not that tomorrow, 1-1-9!), and the cleaning out of the car, and the looking over of all the right papers from mayo, and looking round about the house for healing and spiritually uplifting books, it might be wise to forgo that party tomorrow. going to the hospital, and welcoming a new year, both call out as times to get one's affairs in order, as the phrase goes (and isn't it a wierd one, with its multiple meanings??), don't you think?
anyway, please send me nothing but healing thoughts and or prayers, as is appropriate to your belief system, and know that we thank you.
may you be warm and well, and i wish upon you at least one set of greengoddess eyes in which to gaze deeply. may all the animals who cross your path be friendly (and furry and flea free..) may your dreams grow and your hearts beat true.
we are sending this to a bunch of you with love from us all. in addition to being all over the place in geography you are all over the place in age. we THINK the oldest person we know (and not very very well) is 96. she swims every morning and walks every afternoon; what more example could we want? then again she was a coach or gym teacher and probably had a more magnificent physique than i ever did in our never-co-existing-in-time primes. hmm. the good thing is knowing people of all ages which i guess makes us somewhere in the middle which is.....middle age!
the middle can cut a wide swathe....
we think the only people we know who were born in the aughts are from this new century (and some of you we haven't actually met yet tho you have been out and about for half a year!)
anyway, however old you are and whatever calendar you live by, enjoy this new turn of the page. let us know what's up with you and turn to the blog (and other cyber places it will tell you about) to find out what's up with us, or at least some or one of us.......
more later. it really is probably bedtime for owls, as well as pussycats.
ciao, and meow, and love, and solidarity,
rebecca r.
on behalf of me, and me and steve, and
todos los gatos
top of page=luna on the fridge,our kitchen, not too long ago.....
hello! aloha!
shalom! salaam!
happy aught nine! fare thee well '08!
the night is clear and stars and planets are bright but the chill and the wind are a bit (a bit?) of a deterrent to gazing.
'08's last day ended with a magnificent sunset followed by a young moon and jupiter frolicking together for our enjoyment in the southwest. it was hard to walk on ice and stargaze at the same time but we managed!
having discussed with mr. s that the chinese new year and mlk day and the inauguration of our 44th usa pres would be as good a time for greetings as any here i sit at one of "my" times, the one that comes around a couple of hours after midnight. what can i say? that i am an owl? i was *trying* to settle down but in reviewing the day and preparing for the next one my mind perks up. what can i say? it was something that happened in utero?
this at one time was going to be an us sort of letter, us being 2 humans and five felines, or 155 years of combined mammal wisdom (and only 118 of them human!) but truth be told only ten fingers are on the keyboard. ten others carried this machine up from the basement. this is the south side of the dining room and the home office is supposed to be the south side of the living room but the rooms keep morphing into one another. still it is good to be in a cozy cottage. sure beats a tent and it seems appropriately modest for the cold season and the equally chilling economic forecast.
frida kahlo (a cat!) is massaging a pillow behind me so i am really missing out on something by not leaning back into her magic healing touch...
WE hope this finds you warm and well, all of you, coast to coast and here and there in the middle.
now i might as well get to the me part because there is so much me me me going on it's hard not to....
steve and luna will be part of the trip when WE go to minnesota but i'm the one who is having a catheter ablation for atrial fibrilation next monday which is like any minute now, the 5 of jan, arriving at saint mary's (which is part of mayo) at 5:30 a.m. the weather radio is enough to keep a person up at night. of course we will travel sunday the 4th, marcia's birthday, and her smile will guide our way......
if you want details on the general scenario i suggest
a-fib.com
which, you will find out when you get there, is by and for lay people attempting (like me!!) to understand what is happening when the heart starts marching to the beat of a different drummer. when one's own heart does that.
if you want to know what's up with me, i invite you to visit my blog
RR-HEART.blogspot.com
as best we can (and that part of the we will be mr s) we will try and organize it into sections such as
s's update
just the facts pls m'am
and the bla bla blog itself....
i guess i've been blogging most of my life, since before there was a blog. (you can ask my mother!) i suspect what a blog is is: a log of the bla bla bla that goes on inside of one's own mind. well why would anyone (else!) want to look in there? well, some of us do, and some of us don't, so you are invited, and the choice is yours.
i started the RR-Heart (**we think it's not case sensitive....) in a spiral notebook, one of my Preferred Things on which to write, and the bla bla bla part already in there will have to get typed up. could be worse. i've been enjoying the return to The Pen On Paper but my wrists are tired and it's time for this. Mr S won't e mail or call out much--just one to the folks, and if you know them by all means call esp. since i am worried about the anxiety of the mother. she will worry about me and i will worry about her worrying about me...it's a female thing...no it's a Jewish thing....wuddever...
hmmm i think to do all this ( and the laundry as well) (but not that tomorrow, 1-1-9!), and the cleaning out of the car, and the looking over of all the right papers from mayo, and looking round about the house for healing and spiritually uplifting books, it might be wise to forgo that party tomorrow. going to the hospital, and welcoming a new year, both call out as times to get one's affairs in order, as the phrase goes (and isn't it a wierd one, with its multiple meanings??), don't you think?
anyway, please send me nothing but healing thoughts and or prayers, as is appropriate to your belief system, and know that we thank you.
may you be warm and well, and i wish upon you at least one set of greengoddess eyes in which to gaze deeply. may all the animals who cross your path be friendly (and furry and flea free..) may your dreams grow and your hearts beat true.
we are sending this to a bunch of you with love from us all. in addition to being all over the place in geography you are all over the place in age. we THINK the oldest person we know (and not very very well) is 96. she swims every morning and walks every afternoon; what more example could we want? then again she was a coach or gym teacher and probably had a more magnificent physique than i ever did in our never-co-existing-in-time primes. hmm. the good thing is knowing people of all ages which i guess makes us somewhere in the middle which is.....middle age!
the middle can cut a wide swathe....
we think the only people we know who were born in the aughts are from this new century (and some of you we haven't actually met yet tho you have been out and about for half a year!)
anyway, however old you are and whatever calendar you live by, enjoy this new turn of the page. let us know what's up with you and turn to the blog (and other cyber places it will tell you about) to find out what's up with us, or at least some or one of us.......
more later. it really is probably bedtime for owls, as well as pussycats.
ciao, and meow, and love, and solidarity,
rebecca r.
on behalf of me, and me and steve, and
todos los gatos
top of page=luna on the fridge,our kitchen, not too long ago.....
Special thanks
Greetings to friends
Some special thanks to: CBST for so much, for the pamphlet which arrived Jan. 2 and for the rabinnical notes + calls. They mean so much!
& the community afar.
When/if Iowa upholds marriage laws that disregard gender, c’mon out and count on us for quiche, carrot juice, whole wheat challah and more.
Thanks to Reb J of AA for emotional and logistical support & help.
To Reb A.B. and Ch—ele + the family for warmth and caring.
(to be continued . . . . . )
Some special thanks to: CBST for so much, for the pamphlet which arrived Jan. 2 and for the rabinnical notes + calls. They mean so much!
& the community afar.
When/if Iowa upholds marriage laws that disregard gender, c’mon out and count on us for quiche, carrot juice, whole wheat challah and more.
Thanks to Reb J of AA for emotional and logistical support & help.
To Reb A.B. and Ch—ele + the family for warmth and caring.
(to be continued . . . . . )
Monday, January 5, 2009
Silver Lining
Green and white is the color of young garlic I find at the edge of almost frozen dirt, where the garden meets the wood border. A railroad tie that shouldn’t be there, because it’s leaching toxic. Or, maybe it’s something more benign, lighter but the same 4x4 shape. In any; case the garlic patch is soft there and my shovel tip finds the bulbs. Of course this happens right after I’ve given up and called Steve and asked him to buy one bunch at the co-op. The place I had been hacking was a frozen center spot. We are really broke now, but snow and ice will come, and we’ll use that store bought garlic later in the month. Now it’s December 14th , 2008, and at least something in the soup will be from the work of our own hands, partnered with Earth and the Beyond. How lucky is that, a week before Solstice? (And Chanukah!) Of course the bulb flesh is white, but silver lining seems the best common phrase to describe this luck.
-2-
The finding of young garlic, small bulbs, green shoots, is on account of being a Sloppy Gardener. If you don’t dig up your fat bulbs at just the right moment after beheading their clusters of seeds nodding swanlike on a stalk, you’ll get more and more seeds, and more and more garlic and your bed will be too crowded to allow the bulbs to grow fat. But, you’ll have young garlic for ever and a day, as long as the world keeps turning.
And it’s Not My Fault I couldn’t keep up with summer’s garden. There was The Flood. And there was My Heart, marching to the beat of a different drummer.
Since Spring I’ve been in A-fib more often than not. Working in the yard I would get That Huffy Puffy Feeling and time in the lawn chair moved from equal to that in the dirt to twice as long. Also, bending over to pull a weed, or pick up a stick I would find myself light headed and dizzy. Again, the lawn chair; or better yet the lounger. Moments of pause. Finally Dr. Martins figured it out. In his office he took my blood pressure the old fashioned way, with a cuff and a stethoscope, nothing digital; and sitting a standing. The drop when moving from sitting to standing was pretty big. You’re orthostatic he said. So then we knew. Take it slow.
The finding of young garlic, small bulbs, green shoots, is on account of being a Sloppy Gardener. If you don’t dig up your fat bulbs at just the right moment after beheading their clusters of seeds nodding swanlike on a stalk, you’ll get more and more seeds, and more and more garlic and your bed will be too crowded to allow the bulbs to grow fat. But, you’ll have young garlic for ever and a day, as long as the world keeps turning.
And it’s Not My Fault I couldn’t keep up with summer’s garden. There was The Flood. And there was My Heart, marching to the beat of a different drummer.
Since Spring I’ve been in A-fib more often than not. Working in the yard I would get That Huffy Puffy Feeling and time in the lawn chair moved from equal to that in the dirt to twice as long. Also, bending over to pull a weed, or pick up a stick I would find myself light headed and dizzy. Again, the lawn chair; or better yet the lounger. Moments of pause. Finally Dr. Martins figured it out. In his office he took my blood pressure the old fashioned way, with a cuff and a stethoscope, nothing digital; and sitting a standing. The drop when moving from sitting to standing was pretty big. You’re orthostatic he said. So then we knew. Take it slow.
-3-
I’m going to have an ablation on January 5th, 2009, a Monday. The date is the anniversary of the failed revolution at the Winter Palace, 1905, a Sunday, commonly known as Bloody Sunday. Grandpa Abe was there and he was shot in the leg by the Czar’s army and limped for the rest of his life.
I take the day to be auspicious.
It’s the first day Dr. Peter Brady has available and I’m glad to take it. We (+Steve, Kitty Luna and RR) will drive up to Mayo on Sunday the 4th, which is the birthday of our dear friend Marcia (OBM) (Of Blessed Memory). Again, it’s auspicious, and whether or not there is a heaven the spirit of Marcia will be watching over us. And I like the 4’s. Today is the 14th. January the 4th. Marcia was nine months to the day younger than me. The human gestation period is not really exactly nine months, but Marcia may or may not have been conceived on my birthday, 4-4. Marcia died on 2-4, one month after becoming 53. I didn’t need to tell you that. You could figure that 2-4 is one month after 1-4. Bit, if I hadn’t told you, you wouldn’t have known she died at 53.
Bernie and Colleen (of the North) or Colleen of CR) and Steve and I have grown closer since losing our mutual friend. We were all friends before but now more so, as we huddle around the empty space that was Marcia, or the warm memory that is Marcia. The hole in our hearts that is the absence of Marcia. This is a hole in our metaphorical hearts. Our physical hearts are whlole.
For the second year since Marcia’s death we will (we hope, barring blizzards or freezing drizzle) take Marcia’s mother, Joann Davis out to eat. I imagine we will go to the Greek place again, on Mt. Vernon Road, and Steve and I will each order spanakopita. I had been imagining that we’d go out to eat on Dacia’s actual birthday and then continue north on 380 to Waterloo, and then pick up 63 straight north into Rochester, but Bernie works on Sundays, so hopefully, we’ll go out to eat Saturday night, the eve of Marcia’s birthday. It will be better that way, as Steve, Luna, and RR will be able to pack up and get on the road in the afternoon, and maybe not stop until Cedar Falls/Waterloo, where we might try finding Aunt Lura, or our friend Barbara or something to eat. Waterloo is almost half way. Actually, it’s 80 or 90 miles from here, and the Mayo Clinic as of our (=a different us: J3 and RR) last transit, is 196.
-4-
I’ve been blogging since before there was a thing called a blog, or a personal computer. I write the way I talk, when I’m lucky, and I’ve been talking for nearly 57 years, which is to say, since before I was one. I will be 58 in 3 and a half months. So, yes, I’ve been talking for nearly 57 years. It really is true. Some people are tired of this talking I’ve been doing, by pen and by typewriter and by computer and right out of my mouth, and some people like it. If you don’t believe me you can ask my mother if it’s true and she will verify that she that she said to me “You could make sentences before anyone. I got my teeth late (after two). This combination led, in my teen years, to orthodonture.
There are those who say to me shutup shutup shutup already, but mostly those are not my friends. Mostly my revelatory nature, the outpouring of the words of my heart through my mouth gives permission for the other, for other people, to open their mouths and their hearts. My ears are as big as my mouth and I will listen listen listen to your heat’s song.
That’s actually a line from a song that Steve sings. In the olden days of The Singing Peace Movement, [now?], about a quarter of a century ago, when there was a peace movement full of song, Steve would , on occasion, gather us together in a circle. Reach with your right hand onto the heart of the person to your left. (Yes, across your chest and theirs. You have to skrunch together to do this.) Take your left hand, cross your chest, and hold the left hand of the person to your right. Then, all together, sing:
Listen, listen, listen to my heart's song.
I’m going to have an ablation on January 5th, 2009, a Monday. The date is the anniversary of the failed revolution at the Winter Palace, 1905, a Sunday, commonly known as Bloody Sunday. Grandpa Abe was there and he was shot in the leg by the Czar’s army and limped for the rest of his life.
I take the day to be auspicious.
It’s the first day Dr. Peter Brady has available and I’m glad to take it. We (+Steve, Kitty Luna and RR) will drive up to Mayo on Sunday the 4th, which is the birthday of our dear friend Marcia (OBM) (Of Blessed Memory). Again, it’s auspicious, and whether or not there is a heaven the spirit of Marcia will be watching over us. And I like the 4’s. Today is the 14th. January the 4th. Marcia was nine months to the day younger than me. The human gestation period is not really exactly nine months, but Marcia may or may not have been conceived on my birthday, 4-4. Marcia died on 2-4, one month after becoming 53. I didn’t need to tell you that. You could figure that 2-4 is one month after 1-4. Bit, if I hadn’t told you, you wouldn’t have known she died at 53.
Bernie and Colleen (of the North) or Colleen of CR) and Steve and I have grown closer since losing our mutual friend. We were all friends before but now more so, as we huddle around the empty space that was Marcia, or the warm memory that is Marcia. The hole in our hearts that is the absence of Marcia. This is a hole in our metaphorical hearts. Our physical hearts are whlole.
For the second year since Marcia’s death we will (we hope, barring blizzards or freezing drizzle) take Marcia’s mother, Joann Davis out to eat. I imagine we will go to the Greek place again, on Mt. Vernon Road, and Steve and I will each order spanakopita. I had been imagining that we’d go out to eat on Dacia’s actual birthday and then continue north on 380 to Waterloo, and then pick up 63 straight north into Rochester, but Bernie works on Sundays, so hopefully, we’ll go out to eat Saturday night, the eve of Marcia’s birthday. It will be better that way, as Steve, Luna, and RR will be able to pack up and get on the road in the afternoon, and maybe not stop until Cedar Falls/Waterloo, where we might try finding Aunt Lura, or our friend Barbara or something to eat. Waterloo is almost half way. Actually, it’s 80 or 90 miles from here, and the Mayo Clinic as of our (=a different us: J3 and RR) last transit, is 196.
-4-
I’ve been blogging since before there was a thing called a blog, or a personal computer. I write the way I talk, when I’m lucky, and I’ve been talking for nearly 57 years, which is to say, since before I was one. I will be 58 in 3 and a half months. So, yes, I’ve been talking for nearly 57 years. It really is true. Some people are tired of this talking I’ve been doing, by pen and by typewriter and by computer and right out of my mouth, and some people like it. If you don’t believe me you can ask my mother if it’s true and she will verify that she that she said to me “You could make sentences before anyone. I got my teeth late (after two). This combination led, in my teen years, to orthodonture.
There are those who say to me shutup shutup shutup already, but mostly those are not my friends. Mostly my revelatory nature, the outpouring of the words of my heart through my mouth gives permission for the other, for other people, to open their mouths and their hearts. My ears are as big as my mouth and I will listen listen listen to your heat’s song.
That’s actually a line from a song that Steve sings. In the olden days of The Singing Peace Movement, [now?], about a quarter of a century ago, when there was a peace movement full of song, Steve would , on occasion, gather us together in a circle. Reach with your right hand onto the heart of the person to your left. (Yes, across your chest and theirs. You have to skrunch together to do this.) Take your left hand, cross your chest, and hold the left hand of the person to your right. Then, all together, sing:
Listen, listen, listen to my heart's song.
Listen, listen, listen to my heart's song.
I will never forget you, I will never forsake you.
I will never forget you, I will never forsake you.
-5-
FG wants to talk about my metaphorical Heart, and why it broke. Actually, it was my idea. No, I got it from somebody else. Who? Whatever. It's a logical thing to think about if you live in a realm of poetic logic.
But now I think my metaphorical Heart is fine and that there is actually something that happened to my physical heart that caused its beating to become irregular.
Of course, metaphorically, I have always been marching to the beat of a different drummer, so that part of the diagnosis is no surprise. And of course, I am , and have always been a Bleeding Heart Liberal, at least. So why shouldn't my heart be broken? Dan Bern, singer-songwriter, landsman (from up the road a piece) and a hero of mine, sings “Don’t let your heart get broken by this world,” but I think mind already was before I heard that song. His probably already was too, or else he wouldn’t have written a song like that, to cheerlead himself, and me , and countless other, on to functional normalcy, with our broken hearts.
Heartbreak is a normative human condition.
Heartsick make woman beautiful, Jun-San the walking Buddhist monk said, after trying to do something about Margaret. Jun-San is a woman, but she said that her Japanese Buddhist culture didn’t actually have a word for nun. So she said she was a monk. I think the translation is actually something like Cloud Person. Don’t quote me on that. But on the World Peace Walk to the UN 2nd Special Session on Disarmament, in 1982, run on Indian peace pipes, and Japanese Buddhist drums and chanted prayers, and fueled by roadkill and spilled wheat off the back of a truck on Highway 81 in Nebraska, not to be confused with the Great Peace March of 1984, in which you had to pay upfront to walk along, people started falling in love, especially after the Toronto branch hooked up with the San Francisco to New York branch in Buffalo, after crossing the Peach Bridge connecting the USA and Canada. In cynical moments I would look back at it as the Piece of Ass Walk. Or, I would look back and call the whole peace movement of the last quarter of the previous century the Piece of Ass Movement. After Buffalo, when I asked what she thought of all the romances busting out in the wonderous New York upstate air thick with the scent of flowers Jun-San said “is great, make many peace babies.”
FG wants to talk about my metaphorical Heart, and why it broke. Actually, it was my idea. No, I got it from somebody else. Who? Whatever. It's a logical thing to think about if you live in a realm of poetic logic.
But now I think my metaphorical Heart is fine and that there is actually something that happened to my physical heart that caused its beating to become irregular.
Of course, metaphorically, I have always been marching to the beat of a different drummer, so that part of the diagnosis is no surprise. And of course, I am , and have always been a Bleeding Heart Liberal, at least. So why shouldn't my heart be broken? Dan Bern, singer-songwriter, landsman (from up the road a piece) and a hero of mine, sings “Don’t let your heart get broken by this world,” but I think mind already was before I heard that song. His probably already was too, or else he wouldn’t have written a song like that, to cheerlead himself, and me , and countless other, on to functional normalcy, with our broken hearts.
Heartbreak is a normative human condition.
Heartsick make woman beautiful, Jun-San the walking Buddhist monk said, after trying to do something about Margaret. Jun-San is a woman, but she said that her Japanese Buddhist culture didn’t actually have a word for nun. So she said she was a monk. I think the translation is actually something like Cloud Person. Don’t quote me on that. But on the World Peace Walk to the UN 2nd Special Session on Disarmament, in 1982, run on Indian peace pipes, and Japanese Buddhist drums and chanted prayers, and fueled by roadkill and spilled wheat off the back of a truck on Highway 81 in Nebraska, not to be confused with the Great Peace March of 1984, in which you had to pay upfront to walk along, people started falling in love, especially after the Toronto branch hooked up with the San Francisco to New York branch in Buffalo, after crossing the Peach Bridge connecting the USA and Canada. In cynical moments I would look back at it as the Piece of Ass Walk. Or, I would look back and call the whole peace movement of the last quarter of the previous century the Piece of Ass Movement. After Buffalo, when I asked what she thought of all the romances busting out in the wonderous New York upstate air thick with the scent of flowers Jun-San said “is great, make many peace babies.”
(to be continued . . . . . )
conscious sedation
conscious sedation
some thoughts about it, and loving the phrase
1-1-9
there's the big stuff and the little stuff. it's hard to tell how big the little stuff can be and sometimes one doesn't know which is which. i think i'm not sweating the big stuff but i am sweating the small stuff. well maybe it's not so small. like for example being conscious or not.
generally i like being conscious. this is in part due to being a first born girl, which in at least one culture has it's own name, WINONA. did you know that? winona means first born daughter. it's also a town in minnesota.
i like that there is a special word for what i am, for what we (winonas!) are.
we have leadership qualities that are oft admired in men but denigrated in women. okay there i said oft. do write and tell me the exceptions of which you are aware. also we have a tendency towards vigilance, or hyper vigilance, which may have come from helping our moms take care of the younger ones.
oh i'll tell you about it after a good night's sleep. there is a sweet cat here telling me to rest and allow her to practice her nursing skills. we winonas need to remember when to listen to younger and wiser women and others! good night and sweet dreams my friends....
[note: Rebecca experienced conscious sedation during her TEE. She is now under a general anesthetic during her PVI. sm 1-5-09 2:22pm]
some thoughts about it, and loving the phrase
1-1-9
there's the big stuff and the little stuff. it's hard to tell how big the little stuff can be and sometimes one doesn't know which is which. i think i'm not sweating the big stuff but i am sweating the small stuff. well maybe it's not so small. like for example being conscious or not.
generally i like being conscious. this is in part due to being a first born girl, which in at least one culture has it's own name, WINONA. did you know that? winona means first born daughter. it's also a town in minnesota.
i like that there is a special word for what i am, for what we (winonas!) are.
we have leadership qualities that are oft admired in men but denigrated in women. okay there i said oft. do write and tell me the exceptions of which you are aware. also we have a tendency towards vigilance, or hyper vigilance, which may have come from helping our moms take care of the younger ones.
oh i'll tell you about it after a good night's sleep. there is a sweet cat here telling me to rest and allow her to practice her nursing skills. we winonas need to remember when to listen to younger and wiser women and others! good night and sweet dreams my friends....
[note: Rebecca experienced conscious sedation during her TEE. She is now under a general anesthetic during her PVI. sm 1-5-09 2:22pm]
Update
Monday morning Januray 5th Rebecca, Luna, and Steve arrived at St. Mary's (where the Mayo cardiovasular department is located).
Rebecca was assigned a room (Francis 4-101, 507-287-4538).
Rebecca was back from her TEE before 9:30.
At 11:15 Rebecca was taken to the cath lab for a cardiac ablation.
This procedure will probably continue for six to eight hours.
Luna and Steve checked into the Ray-Mar Motel.
Steve then returned to Francis 4C to wait for Rebecca and to work on this blog.
Rebecca was assigned a room (Francis 4-101, 507-287-4538).
Rebecca was back from her TEE before 9:30.
At 11:15 Rebecca was taken to the cath lab for a cardiac ablation.
This procedure will probably continue for six to eight hours.
Luna and Steve checked into the Ray-Mar Motel.
Steve then returned to Francis 4C to wait for Rebecca and to work on this blog.
Our Heart
I wanted to name this blog RheaRt, so that it would sound like our heart, and, at the same time, have my own RR initials embedded in it, but somebody else had that handle.
This will do. RR-Heart.
Maybe I’ll move on and write about RR-knees, RR-stomach, RR esophagus, etc.
RheaRt sounded good to me because in some ways our hearts are not our own. If we are well we all have the same basic design and it doesn’t look exactly like a valentine. We’ve got 2 ventricles, left & right and a left + right atrium. We’ve got pipes and valves. We’ve got circuits.
The Yiddish word for face is punim, which is plural, and my favorite rabbi in the known universe, or in my known universe, Rabbi Sharon Kleinbaum of CBST, pointed out in a sermon several years ago that the word does not exist in the singular. “Our faces are not our own” . . .
This will do. RR-Heart.
Maybe I’ll move on and write about RR-knees, RR-stomach, RR esophagus, etc.
RheaRt sounded good to me because in some ways our hearts are not our own. If we are well we all have the same basic design and it doesn’t look exactly like a valentine. We’ve got 2 ventricles, left & right and a left + right atrium. We’ve got pipes and valves. We’ve got circuits.
The Yiddish word for face is punim, which is plural, and my favorite rabbi in the known universe, or in my known universe, Rabbi Sharon Kleinbaum of CBST, pointed out in a sermon several years ago that the word does not exist in the singular. “Our faces are not our own” . . .
just the facts ma'am
i’ve had a fib for 4 years.
i’ve had propafenone & flecanide
i’ve been to UIHC, & the mercy docs in IC, & some docs in CR, & mom & dad’s Cardio Docs, North + South.
it’s time to go to Mayo.
the time is now.
Steve will get this site up while I’m actually having an ablation (1-5-9). join him in the waiting room, with a hope a prayer, a thought. sorry this is late, but it’s all we could do to get here.
if you have negative thought toward me or us fugedaboudit. we have our protective shield up & will only receive good vibration. this computer has a bad vibe filter.
if you stumbled into this & don’t know who we are, enjoy what you see.
if you want to know about other stuff we do (when not in hospital) look at: http://anyroad.synthasite.com/
Next up: TLVDH’s Photo Show in St. Paul, TBA!
Ciao + meow!
(OH yeah, we Love Kitties & have Cat Lovers Against the Bomb calendars for sale, 10 bucks (we’re only a few days into 2009.)
Also we have lots of books
+ some good as new underwire undergarments. more on that later . . . . .
i’ve had propafenone & flecanide
i’ve been to UIHC, & the mercy docs in IC, & some docs in CR, & mom & dad’s Cardio Docs, North + South.
it’s time to go to Mayo.
the time is now.
Steve will get this site up while I’m actually having an ablation (1-5-9). join him in the waiting room, with a hope a prayer, a thought. sorry this is late, but it’s all we could do to get here.
if you have negative thought toward me or us fugedaboudit. we have our protective shield up & will only receive good vibration. this computer has a bad vibe filter.
if you stumbled into this & don’t know who we are, enjoy what you see.
if you want to know about other stuff we do (when not in hospital) look at: http://anyroad.synthasite.com/
Next up: TLVDH’s Photo Show in St. Paul, TBA!
Ciao + meow!
(OH yeah, we Love Kitties & have Cat Lovers Against the Bomb calendars for sale, 10 bucks (we’re only a few days into 2009.)
Also we have lots of books
+ some good as new underwire undergarments. more on that later . . . . .
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