I really enjoy small talk. This may seem contradictory to what I wrote yesterday about wanting depth and intensity in my loves and my friendships, but it isn't. You see, though I'd very much appreciate having a lifelong partner or a lifelong friend whom I would see and interact with on a daily basis, I derive a great deal of satisfaction from brief, pleasant, cursory exchanges with strangers or acquaintances. Especially since the words exchanged are by and large positive, often compliments of one sort or another.
I have a bunch of these encounters every day, and they bring me joy. Chatting for 30 seconds or maybe a minute with other dog owners during my four-times-a-day walks with Rasputin. A few words with store clerks or with neighbors. Going up to a woman who is exotically or beautifully attired and telling her she looks fabulous, as I did a few days ago to a young, tall, thin, grocery-shopping gal with a short black dress and a coon's skin hat. Or longer exchanges, like the visit I just had with Teri and Carolyn at the journalism department office. They are such sunny gals, and I always enjoyed talking with them when I worked at Cal State.
These light and easy conversations bring out the best in people. They are not loaded down with heavy emotions or drama; they are like water flowing in a gentle stream--no obstructions, no frenetic energy, no expectations, no clinging to the person after he or she has gone.
As I move about the world, I will work at being even more present during these moments, keeping the intention that these positive meetings reinforce the spiritual grid that holds humanity together. A few pleasantries with a neighbor, clerk, shopkeeper, waiter, dog owner, or salesperson have a ripple effect. We both depart with a little glow, a fondness and a hopefulness, and we each bring a spark of that to all the other encounters we have that day. In this way, small talk is like Bondo, strengthening the grid, increasing the world's love vibration.
In particular, I must be attentive to my interactions with service personnel. So often--perhaps 90 percent of the time, maybe more--they are not paying attention and so make mistakes or ask questions I have already answered. Instead of calling them out on their mistakes and their faulty information, I need to increase my love vibration. Most of the time I know what to do anyways, and I don't need their help. So if they give the wrong information, that's OK, because I'm not counting on them for advice anyway.
This is particularly true of the nurses at the peritoneal dialysis clinic. They frequently give erroneous or contradictory advice, and I'm always making a big deal about their mistakes, which of course causes more problems. I just have to let it go. If their false info causes other patients harm, then it is up to those patients to do something about it. My trying to improve things hasn't improved anything, so I just have to let it go. The frustration and anger I've displayed regarding these matters have not done me any good. I have to keep things light and easy with the staff, and if I really can't figure something out on my own, I can ask the doctor.
Another positive way to approach small talk is to consider it a wonderful gift. When one's family and friends are not around, God sends strangers to us to make light, happy conversation. The trick is to realize these gifts every time and every day. To appreciate the light and love of humanity that shines through these transitory meetings.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Do People Laugh at Cancer?
A few days ago, I mentioned to someone that I would sure like to do X, that X had been my plan, but that now X wasn't possible. She asked why. "Dialysis," I replied. She responded with a laugh, that inappropriate laugh that some people often use in such situations.
Her response made me wonder: Do people laugh at cancer too? Not in a general sense, but to the cancer patient's face. The next day I received an answer.
(I wondered about cancer because healthy people consider cancer the ultimate in health challenges. I'm not sure there is any one worse condition, but I have often wondered if cancer deserves this spot. After all, with cancer you either go through an awful time and then you're fine or you go through an awful time and then you die anyway. But you don't generally have to deal with cancer for decades or all of your life, though I'm sure there are exceptions to this. But any way, cancer seems to be at the top of the heap of physical challenges in most people's estimation, so I wondered about cancer and inappropriate laughter.)
I was attending a tai chi class that is taught by a cancer survivor. I asked him about his T-shirt, which advertised a river-rafting company in Idaho. I asked if his wife had gone with him. He said no, that the trip was only for cancer survivors. Another person in the class made a comment and laughed. That inappropriate laugh.
I then noticed the instructor's reaction. It was clear to me, even if no one else noticed, that he was disturbed, perhaps perturbed, by her laughter. I was seeing on his face the same reaction that must cross my face, and I didn't like it.
So, this is something I'm working on: Not allowing inappropriate laughter or insensitive comments to ruffle my feathers. In fact, perhaps the best way to help this process along is to smile and brighten my eyes when this occurs. Not that the other person has to see the smile, but more of a smile as one does during meditation or while taking a walk alone in the woods. A light smile that in and of itself lightens the mood and keeps me focused on my true nature. Rather than feel hurt because the other person is slighting my problems, turn it around and smile as if these problems are illusory.
As Tuyen Tran, the Vietnamese friend who long ago introduced me to zen, said, "Which is bigger: You or your problem?" I have been responding to these insensitivies as if my problem is bigger. Regardless of how the other person would answer that question, I need to start answering it with "I am!"
Her response made me wonder: Do people laugh at cancer too? Not in a general sense, but to the cancer patient's face. The next day I received an answer.
(I wondered about cancer because healthy people consider cancer the ultimate in health challenges. I'm not sure there is any one worse condition, but I have often wondered if cancer deserves this spot. After all, with cancer you either go through an awful time and then you're fine or you go through an awful time and then you die anyway. But you don't generally have to deal with cancer for decades or all of your life, though I'm sure there are exceptions to this. But any way, cancer seems to be at the top of the heap of physical challenges in most people's estimation, so I wondered about cancer and inappropriate laughter.)
I was attending a tai chi class that is taught by a cancer survivor. I asked him about his T-shirt, which advertised a river-rafting company in Idaho. I asked if his wife had gone with him. He said no, that the trip was only for cancer survivors. Another person in the class made a comment and laughed. That inappropriate laugh.
I then noticed the instructor's reaction. It was clear to me, even if no one else noticed, that he was disturbed, perhaps perturbed, by her laughter. I was seeing on his face the same reaction that must cross my face, and I didn't like it.
So, this is something I'm working on: Not allowing inappropriate laughter or insensitive comments to ruffle my feathers. In fact, perhaps the best way to help this process along is to smile and brighten my eyes when this occurs. Not that the other person has to see the smile, but more of a smile as one does during meditation or while taking a walk alone in the woods. A light smile that in and of itself lightens the mood and keeps me focused on my true nature. Rather than feel hurt because the other person is slighting my problems, turn it around and smile as if these problems are illusory.
As Tuyen Tran, the Vietnamese friend who long ago introduced me to zen, said, "Which is bigger: You or your problem?" I have been responding to these insensitivies as if my problem is bigger. Regardless of how the other person would answer that question, I need to start answering it with "I am!"
The Appropriate Role of People in One's Life
Rasputin is a great teacher. He has reinforced lessons I thought I had learned long ago, but were in need of relearning. For example, he loved Canada, absolutely loved walking without a leash and romping in the woods. But he is equally happy here in the city, sleeping the day away, playing with his toys, and going for walks on a leash. The lesson: Be happy wherever you are and whatever you're doing.
Rasputin is also helping me put people in perspective. I confess I am and have always been a romantic, with fantasies not just of being swept off my feet by a wonderful guy but also of adventures with a lifelong friend, a woman with whom I would share my feelings and she, hers; a comrade who would travel with me and be like the sister I never had. In other words, I have always wanted from friends and lovers an intimacy that either very, very few people are capable of or the people I have known are not willing to or able to provide. This has so often been a huge disappointment for me. But this has been my problem, not the fault of others. It has been my mistake for expecting from others what they are unable or unwilling to give.
Since adopting Rasputin, my expectations of people have greatly diminished. If people are insensitive, I have Rasputin's unconditional love and acceptance to go home to. If friends don't have time to get together, Rasputin is always ready for a walk or a belly rub. If there is no person to talk with, Rasputin is the best listener I've ever known, looking at me with 100 percent of his attention focused on my every gesture and word.
Rasputin is helping me put people in perspective. They are busy with other things and with other people. If they don't have time or energy for me, that's OK. It truly is.
As my friend Araia, the nature spirit who dwells in the woods of northeastern Washington, told me many times, "Heidi, if you get a dog, you'll forget about a man." She's absolutely right. I had been thinking a great deal about one particular man, fantasizing about him and being frustrated by not having him. Now I hardly think of him at all, and when I do, there is no urgency to it, no desperation.
And I must admit that my relationship with Rasputin is far better than any I've ever had with a man. He's more loving, affectionate, trusting, and playful than any man I've ever known. He's got a great sense of humor. He's filled with joy. He never complains or criticizes. He doesn't offer advice. And he doesn't psychoanalyze me. And he does not have breasts and he is not "pregnant," like most men. He's trim and good-looking.
So, thank you, Rasputin, for helping me to see people as they are meant to be seen. They can be wonderful in small doses, provided I have no expectations for them and do not think about them when they're not around.
Rasputin is also helping me put people in perspective. I confess I am and have always been a romantic, with fantasies not just of being swept off my feet by a wonderful guy but also of adventures with a lifelong friend, a woman with whom I would share my feelings and she, hers; a comrade who would travel with me and be like the sister I never had. In other words, I have always wanted from friends and lovers an intimacy that either very, very few people are capable of or the people I have known are not willing to or able to provide. This has so often been a huge disappointment for me. But this has been my problem, not the fault of others. It has been my mistake for expecting from others what they are unable or unwilling to give.
Since adopting Rasputin, my expectations of people have greatly diminished. If people are insensitive, I have Rasputin's unconditional love and acceptance to go home to. If friends don't have time to get together, Rasputin is always ready for a walk or a belly rub. If there is no person to talk with, Rasputin is the best listener I've ever known, looking at me with 100 percent of his attention focused on my every gesture and word.
Rasputin is helping me put people in perspective. They are busy with other things and with other people. If they don't have time or energy for me, that's OK. It truly is.
As my friend Araia, the nature spirit who dwells in the woods of northeastern Washington, told me many times, "Heidi, if you get a dog, you'll forget about a man." She's absolutely right. I had been thinking a great deal about one particular man, fantasizing about him and being frustrated by not having him. Now I hardly think of him at all, and when I do, there is no urgency to it, no desperation.
And I must admit that my relationship with Rasputin is far better than any I've ever had with a man. He's more loving, affectionate, trusting, and playful than any man I've ever known. He's got a great sense of humor. He's filled with joy. He never complains or criticizes. He doesn't offer advice. And he doesn't psychoanalyze me. And he does not have breasts and he is not "pregnant," like most men. He's trim and good-looking.
So, thank you, Rasputin, for helping me to see people as they are meant to be seen. They can be wonderful in small doses, provided I have no expectations for them and do not think about them when they're not around.
Learning to Accept the Insensitivities of Others
Inappropriate laughter. Insensitive comments. These are the sort of things one might expect from strangers or from one's enemies. But most often, at least in my experience, they are put forth by friends.
A sensitive subject will arise, and the friend will laugh as if it is such a trifle or will say something that is dismissive or something that makes me realize that we are living on different planets.
In one recent case, I was at a barbeque. The hostess's stepmother said that it is easy to do nothing all day. The hostess turned to me and said, "That's what you're doing, Heidi."
This made me wonder: Do healthy people really believe that having a chronic illness means you are doing nothing? If so, I would be very happy if they would like to trade places and do all my "nothing" and I take up their "something."
I estimate that when I add together all the hours each day I spend in medical tasks--10 1/2 hours of dialysis each day and another 45 minutes of set-up and clean-up; checking and recording blood sugar levels and blood pressure; driving to and participating in doctors' appts., lab tests, and diagnostic exams; massaging my feet, hands, ears, and eyes to increase blood circulation and prevent amputation and blindness; going to acupuncture appts.; hospital stays and paramedic dramas; ordering, getting, and organizing meds; emailing and phoning doctors and nurses; clinic visits; online research on kidney disease; attending kidney conferences and support groups--I must average at least 15 hours a day in just attending to my body. So add to all this "nothing," I still work as a writer, editor, and massage therapist; do my housework, cooking, and cleaning; pay my bills; and care for my mother's finances, errands, and medical care. Oh, yes, and Rasputin! A whole bunch of nothing, for sure.
Yesterday I spoke of this to Aaron and told him that I have to learn how to keep these people's insensitivies from affecting my health and well-being. Perhaps the best way to deal with insensitivities is to pretend that the comments were issued by children rather than by adults. For example, if a young child came up to me, pointed to my stomach, and said, "Why do you have tubes coming out of your tummy? Are you a robot?" I would laugh. The child is ignorant and doesn't know that this is inappropriate. That is how I need to start treating adults who say insensitive things or laugh at things that are difficult for me. Just think of them as children who don't know any better. Even Jesus took this approach. When he was on the cross, he said, "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do."
Of course, as Aaron pointed out, this does not make for very deep relationships if you can't talk about how you're feeling and if you always have to fill the archetype of the happy sick person. That's true. But that's why I've got Rasputin! That little joy bucket is pure unconditional love. I am so very blessed having him in my life. The desire for deep, meaningful human interaction has significantly diminished since he's been with me. Of course, I am open to true love or a deep friendship, but they're not something I think much about now. Thank you, thank you, thank you, forces of the universe, for sending Rasputin to me.
A sensitive subject will arise, and the friend will laugh as if it is such a trifle or will say something that is dismissive or something that makes me realize that we are living on different planets.
In one recent case, I was at a barbeque. The hostess's stepmother said that it is easy to do nothing all day. The hostess turned to me and said, "That's what you're doing, Heidi."
This made me wonder: Do healthy people really believe that having a chronic illness means you are doing nothing? If so, I would be very happy if they would like to trade places and do all my "nothing" and I take up their "something."
I estimate that when I add together all the hours each day I spend in medical tasks--10 1/2 hours of dialysis each day and another 45 minutes of set-up and clean-up; checking and recording blood sugar levels and blood pressure; driving to and participating in doctors' appts., lab tests, and diagnostic exams; massaging my feet, hands, ears, and eyes to increase blood circulation and prevent amputation and blindness; going to acupuncture appts.; hospital stays and paramedic dramas; ordering, getting, and organizing meds; emailing and phoning doctors and nurses; clinic visits; online research on kidney disease; attending kidney conferences and support groups--I must average at least 15 hours a day in just attending to my body. So add to all this "nothing," I still work as a writer, editor, and massage therapist; do my housework, cooking, and cleaning; pay my bills; and care for my mother's finances, errands, and medical care. Oh, yes, and Rasputin! A whole bunch of nothing, for sure.
Yesterday I spoke of this to Aaron and told him that I have to learn how to keep these people's insensitivies from affecting my health and well-being. Perhaps the best way to deal with insensitivities is to pretend that the comments were issued by children rather than by adults. For example, if a young child came up to me, pointed to my stomach, and said, "Why do you have tubes coming out of your tummy? Are you a robot?" I would laugh. The child is ignorant and doesn't know that this is inappropriate. That is how I need to start treating adults who say insensitive things or laugh at things that are difficult for me. Just think of them as children who don't know any better. Even Jesus took this approach. When he was on the cross, he said, "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do."
Of course, as Aaron pointed out, this does not make for very deep relationships if you can't talk about how you're feeling and if you always have to fill the archetype of the happy sick person. That's true. But that's why I've got Rasputin! That little joy bucket is pure unconditional love. I am so very blessed having him in my life. The desire for deep, meaningful human interaction has significantly diminished since he's been with me. Of course, I am open to true love or a deep friendship, but they're not something I think much about now. Thank you, thank you, thank you, forces of the universe, for sending Rasputin to me.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Hooray! At Last, Some Movement in the Transplant Process
After being dead in the water for at least five months, I have finally seen some movement in the transplant process. I met today with Dr. Michael Lee, the new cardiologist at UCLA. He has replaced Dr. Van Herle, who is the cardiologist who was initially assigned to my case but who has left UCLA.
After an intro that made me think he was going to say "no way" to a transplant, no matter what I did, Dr. Lee said that, if I do the following, he will recommend to the transplant team that I be put on the wait list:
1) get a stent in the artery on my lateral side,
2) have an ultrasound and a fractional flow reserve test done of my right artery and perhaps get a stent put in there or have bypass surgery for that artery, and
3) get him the results of my most recent stress test.
A month ago I was averse to having another stent because 1) the first stent, placed in November 2006, did nothing to improve my condition, and most importantly, 2) the dye used for an angiogram and for stent surgery is damaging to the kidneys. Now I just want to get on that list. I am hoping and praying that my kidneys will be protected during these procedures, as I want to stay with peritoneal dialysis and not have to switch to hemodialyis.
So, here's the game plan now:
1) Schedule stent surgery.
2) Perhaps go back for the assessments of the right artery if Dr. Phan, my Kaiser cardiologist, feels that it would be better for my kidneys if the procedures were done on two separate days.
3) Depending on the results of the right-artery tests, a) do nothing because the right artery is just fine, b) get a stent, or c) have bypass surgery.
4) See Dr. Lee again and get his OK for the wait list.
5) Perhaps see the transplant surgeon again.
6) Wait for the transplant team's approval and for the letter of approval that puts me on the wait list.
7) Work with a live donor--the best scenario. Or wait for a deceased donor.
At my next meeting with Dr. Lee, I plan to ask him if he could recommend me for the kidney-pancreas wait list. That would be great because 1) my wait time for a deceased donor would drop from 7-10 years for a kidney-only transplant to 2-3 years for a kidney-pancreas transplant. This is because more people need just the kidney than need both organs, so when a compatible donor comes along, the patient who could use both organs is given the organs rather than wasting the pancreas and only using the kidney. 2) I would no longer have to wear an insulin pump or take insulin injections--the answer to my decades-old prayer!
After an intro that made me think he was going to say "no way" to a transplant, no matter what I did, Dr. Lee said that, if I do the following, he will recommend to the transplant team that I be put on the wait list:
1) get a stent in the artery on my lateral side,
2) have an ultrasound and a fractional flow reserve test done of my right artery and perhaps get a stent put in there or have bypass surgery for that artery, and
3) get him the results of my most recent stress test.
A month ago I was averse to having another stent because 1) the first stent, placed in November 2006, did nothing to improve my condition, and most importantly, 2) the dye used for an angiogram and for stent surgery is damaging to the kidneys. Now I just want to get on that list. I am hoping and praying that my kidneys will be protected during these procedures, as I want to stay with peritoneal dialysis and not have to switch to hemodialyis.
So, here's the game plan now:
1) Schedule stent surgery.
2) Perhaps go back for the assessments of the right artery if Dr. Phan, my Kaiser cardiologist, feels that it would be better for my kidneys if the procedures were done on two separate days.
3) Depending on the results of the right-artery tests, a) do nothing because the right artery is just fine, b) get a stent, or c) have bypass surgery.
4) See Dr. Lee again and get his OK for the wait list.
5) Perhaps see the transplant surgeon again.
6) Wait for the transplant team's approval and for the letter of approval that puts me on the wait list.
7) Work with a live donor--the best scenario. Or wait for a deceased donor.
At my next meeting with Dr. Lee, I plan to ask him if he could recommend me for the kidney-pancreas wait list. That would be great because 1) my wait time for a deceased donor would drop from 7-10 years for a kidney-only transplant to 2-3 years for a kidney-pancreas transplant. This is because more people need just the kidney than need both organs, so when a compatible donor comes along, the patient who could use both organs is given the organs rather than wasting the pancreas and only using the kidney. 2) I would no longer have to wear an insulin pump or take insulin injections--the answer to my decades-old prayer!
Saturday, September 12, 2009
A Successful First Trip
Hooray! I made it to Nova Scotia and back without a visit from paramedics or a hospital stay! My blood pressure was dangerously high for about a week, but I finally went to an acupuncturist in a town about an hour from my cabin, and he brought it under control.
I am very thankful that all went without major incident, especially as I was in the hospital three times in the month and a half just prior to my trip.
I am very thankful that all went without major incident, especially as I was in the hospital three times in the month and a half just prior to my trip.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
A Government Racket
Even though I just turned 51, I had to sign up for Medicare as of June 1 (when still only 50) because I'm on dialysis. So now I'm part of the Senior Advantage program with Kaiser Permanente.
An amazing way the government is making money is through Medicare. Yes, contrary to all that you have heard about Medicare being in dire straits, at least in its collections process, it is raking in the cash and in many cases not providing services for the payments received. Let me explain: I just received my Medicare bill for $289.20, due Sept. 23, for October-through-December coverage. So if I should die on Sept. 24, the government keeps that money, even though I am not alive to accept any services. And it clearly states on the back of the bill that I am responsible for paying the bill even if I have been taken off the Medicare rolls, as happens, for example, three years after a kidney transplant, the government assuming that a kidney patient, having been out of the workforce for years, perhaps a decade or more, can jump back in, in her 50s or 60s and get a great-paying job with health benefits that will cover the huge cost of immunosuppressant drugs. What fairytale land are they living in, huh?
So Medicare is operating in a way that would not be allowed in the private sector. Can you image, for example, having to pay your rent three months in advance and your heirs not receive a refund if you should die and they move all your stuff out of the apartment immediately? Or that you would be responsible for your rent if you were no longer living there? It just wouldn't happen, but the government can get away with this. Imagine the money they are taking in for people who die or are removed from the rolls and have already paid their premiums!
Another scam is Social Security in which payments are always one month behind because, as a rep told me, I am paid Dec. 1 for November because SS doesn't want to pay me for November on Nov. 1 as I could die some time during the month.
An amazing way the government is making money is through Medicare. Yes, contrary to all that you have heard about Medicare being in dire straits, at least in its collections process, it is raking in the cash and in many cases not providing services for the payments received. Let me explain: I just received my Medicare bill for $289.20, due Sept. 23, for October-through-December coverage. So if I should die on Sept. 24, the government keeps that money, even though I am not alive to accept any services. And it clearly states on the back of the bill that I am responsible for paying the bill even if I have been taken off the Medicare rolls, as happens, for example, three years after a kidney transplant, the government assuming that a kidney patient, having been out of the workforce for years, perhaps a decade or more, can jump back in, in her 50s or 60s and get a great-paying job with health benefits that will cover the huge cost of immunosuppressant drugs. What fairytale land are they living in, huh?
So Medicare is operating in a way that would not be allowed in the private sector. Can you image, for example, having to pay your rent three months in advance and your heirs not receive a refund if you should die and they move all your stuff out of the apartment immediately? Or that you would be responsible for your rent if you were no longer living there? It just wouldn't happen, but the government can get away with this. Imagine the money they are taking in for people who die or are removed from the rolls and have already paid their premiums!
Another scam is Social Security in which payments are always one month behind because, as a rep told me, I am paid Dec. 1 for November because SS doesn't want to pay me for November on Nov. 1 as I could die some time during the month.
Monday, September 07, 2009
More Cabin Pictures
Friend Heather had asked to see photos of the cabin, so here goes. Please note that I did NOT paint the exterior that amazing green. The former owner, Norm, got it in his head to do so just prior to putting the place up for sale. I guess he thought it would be a selling point!
And here are a few of the shed that is also on the property. It's full of just about everything you'd need to build another cabin, if you had a mind to: flooring, shingles, windows, lumber, lots of nails, curtain rods, molding, a toilet, chairs, a table, and a bath tub.
And here are a few of the shed that is also on the property. It's full of just about everything you'd need to build another cabin, if you had a mind to: flooring, shingles, windows, lumber, lots of nails, curtain rods, molding, a toilet, chairs, a table, and a bath tub.
Work on the Cabin
Though I have had a lot of time to explore and read and generally goof around during my stay in Nova Scotia, I still accomplished some work on the cabin--something that makes me feel really good.
One project that I have wanted to do for five years now is decorate one of the walls in the porch with items I brought with me from California or collected along my way to Nova Scotia during my grand solo camping-back roads adventure of the summer of 2005. Though the task is not completed, and will not be completed this time, it is started for God's sake! Last Monday Aaron painted the wall blue, or as the color is appropriately named "giggles." The next day, Aaron, Helene, and I plastered pebbles, earrings, statues, chipped pottery, shells, state pins, and so many other treasures onto the wall. A lot of it fell off, being too bulky or not flat enough. A few days ago, I added a few more items, including green, yellow, and purple pull rings from my dialysis bags and the plastic ends of the dialysis tubing. One thing did not go according to plan: Though the paint lady added the right amount of color to both the primer paint and the plaster, on the wall, the two are not quite a match, perhaps because the plaster on its own is not a true white. So, next time I will carefully edge each item on the wall with the primer. A big job. But as it is now, I am so happy that I have finally put these items up. As I said to Aaron, now for sure we aren't selling this cabin. Who else would appreciate this!
Embedded in the wall are items that friends gave me in 2005 to include in this grand art project: a moon-and-stars tile from Jamie, bottles of green abundance powder and red love powder from Georgette, and a half-dollar-sized basket woven by Robin.
The other big project was windows for the porch. Back in the summer of 2005, I drywalled the porch, but planned to put in windows the next year. That never happened. Finally, I've got windows, put in by Wayne, a carpenter who works for my general contractor-neighbor Merwin. Wayne used three windows that were in my shed. So happy with my new windows!
Other projects accomplished:
* While Wayne was working, he let me borrow his ladder. I used this to clean out the gutters, which were filled with old leaves and dirt, even little trees.
* Wayne also let me use his power saw to down some trees that were growing too close to the cabin. I thought this was a good deal of fun.
* I replaced a hasp on the front door. Later Wayne redid this, saying that I should have mounted it the other way so that the screws are hidden under the arm when it's locked. Otherwise, someone could just come by with a screwdriver and get into the cabin. I said, "But someone could use a crowbar if they really wanted in." But that was awfully nice of Wayne to redo it because it had taken me about an hour to do it with my manual screwdriver.
* Though Helene had put two coats of paint on the floors of the bedroom and the porch, I had to touch up both because of my cleaning solutions for dialysis hygiene and Wayne's carpentry, respectively.
* I took a broom to the inside of the shed and recycled a bunch of empty plastic containers.
So, I'm happy with the work I accomplished. Next year I'll finish the porch wall, and I'm sure they'll be many more tasks to check off.
Rasputin's Going to Miss This Place
Since his arrival in Nova Scotia almost three weeks ago, Rasputin has become more and more adventuresome. At first he was underfoot when we went for walks in the woods, and I often accidentally stepped on or kicked him. Then he began poking his head into the ferns and grasses at the side of the dirt road near my cabin. And then about a week ago, he took the plunge and went into the wild woods. Many times he has raced off, and I have not known where he is for up to 10 minutes. This is a bit disconcerting, as bears and packs of coyotes abound in this area, and little Rasputin would be an easy meal.
His hunting skills, however, leave much to be desired. His basic strategy is to attempt to scare his victim to death, lunging at a toad or a bug and then jumping back when they move. The only prey he has secured have been several live flies (he makes the most puzzled face as he downs them) and a dessicated gopher, or perhaps a squirrel, shown here.
He does a happy dance whenever I get ready to go outside. He absolutely loves the freedom of being leash-less. He's really going to miss his woodsy adventures when we get back to Long Beach and his outside excursions will be on pavement and concrete--with a leash.
Though the first two weeks of my visit were full of events with people--first with Helene and her friends and last week with Aaron--this week it's been Rasputin and me all the way. Aaron left last Wednesday, and Helene has been at a family reunion in Montreal. I really enjoyed seeing and doing things with other humans, but this week alone with Rasputin has been wonderful too. We've taken a lot of long walks, explored a few of the provinicial parks, and returned to Hampton Beach, where Helene and I had gathered surf-tumbled pebbles during my first week.
I will be leaving my cabin very early Wednesday morning to catch a 9:30 a.m. flight from Halifax, a two-hour drive away. I will miss these woods and the stream, lake, and river near my cabin. So many times during these walks, my mind has been completely clear, devoid of any thoughts, at peace.
I could very easily live for many months like this, taking walks with Rasputin, exploring Nova Scotia's natural beauty, making light conversation with people when I see them, and having a social engagement now and again. This had been my plan only a year ago. I had planned on leaving Cal State, driving to Nova Scotia, living here for six months of the year, and spending the other six camping and traveling throughout the U.S. I would live on writing and editing jobs, with no rent to pay. Well, this had been the plan, but dialysis has changed all that.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Thank You, Helene!
My good friend Helene scrubbed my cabin to get it in shape for my visit. She bought the needed Lysol spray, hydrogen peroxide, paper towels, Lysol wipes, and sundry other supplies for keeping a clean abode. She also was there when the dialysis solution arrived, and she took inventory of the boxes. And she even finished off the bedroom, filling in gaps in the paneling through which the insulation was showing through, then painted the bedroom walls and floor. She put a baseboard in, too, to give it a tidy look. The paint she chose is a beautiful blue that matches the blue in the gnome curtains and table cloths. In short, she put in a lot of work to make my cabin clean and welcoming. So a big thank you to Helene!
Thanks, too, to Helene for including me in her social life. In truth, I have had more social engagements in the past few days than I have in six months in So Cal. And the amount of time I have spent with Helene, even though she is working more than full-time as a cook at the pub, exceeds the time I spend in a given year with any So Cal friend. It's amazing how in small towns, people slow down and take the time to be with one another. This is such a wonderful change of pace.
Thanks, too, to Helene for including me in her social life. In truth, I have had more social engagements in the past few days than I have in six months in So Cal. And the amount of time I have spent with Helene, even though she is working more than full-time as a cook at the pub, exceeds the time I spend in a given year with any So Cal friend. It's amazing how in small towns, people slow down and take the time to be with one another. This is such a wonderful change of pace.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Would You Laugh if You Swallowed One Month's Pay?
For the last eight months or so, I have been having challenges with my veneers. My upper four front teeth have veneers because, for all of my childhood and much of my adulthood, people would comment about my yellow teeth. Yellow teeth run in my mother's side of the family, and whether that's a genetic thing or a geographical thing linked to the water, I don't know. But I've never liked them, and so about 15 years ago, I did something about it.
Lately, the adhesive has not been holding, so I have made frequent visits to my dentist, who, bless her soul, is always trying new ones on me. Denette gets excited about trade shows, hoping she'll find a miracle product to use on my veneers.
Denette is such a mensch that she hasn't been charging me for all this rebonding. She's probably fit me into her busy schedule a half dozen times during the last eight months. So when one of my veneers kept falling off, I didn't want to bug her. I thought I'd wait for my next teeth-cleaning. So during the past three months, my veneer has come loose a hundred times or more. Sometimes all the way off and sometimes just a little. Sometimes it ends up in my food. Sometimes other people see this!
I wanted to get this taken care of before I left for Canada tomorrow, so I have a dentist appointment in about a half hour. The only thing is during lunch today, I swallowed my veneer! Can you believe it! Three months of me gluing it in place with Elmer's and of futzing with it no end, and then hours before my dentist appointment, I swallow it! The irony of this has not escaped me.
All I can do is giggle.
And then I remembered how much veneers cost. Oh, my God! $500--my entire monthly pension from Cal State! I wonder how many people would laugh about swallowing their entire month's pay! Perhaps that should be an online dating question. It would certainly be a great divider of the world's people--those who could chuckle and those who would curse.
Lately, the adhesive has not been holding, so I have made frequent visits to my dentist, who, bless her soul, is always trying new ones on me. Denette gets excited about trade shows, hoping she'll find a miracle product to use on my veneers.
Denette is such a mensch that she hasn't been charging me for all this rebonding. She's probably fit me into her busy schedule a half dozen times during the last eight months. So when one of my veneers kept falling off, I didn't want to bug her. I thought I'd wait for my next teeth-cleaning. So during the past three months, my veneer has come loose a hundred times or more. Sometimes all the way off and sometimes just a little. Sometimes it ends up in my food. Sometimes other people see this!
I wanted to get this taken care of before I left for Canada tomorrow, so I have a dentist appointment in about a half hour. The only thing is during lunch today, I swallowed my veneer! Can you believe it! Three months of me gluing it in place with Elmer's and of futzing with it no end, and then hours before my dentist appointment, I swallow it! The irony of this has not escaped me.
All I can do is giggle.
And then I remembered how much veneers cost. Oh, my God! $500--my entire monthly pension from Cal State! I wonder how many people would laugh about swallowing their entire month's pay! Perhaps that should be an online dating question. It would certainly be a great divider of the world's people--those who could chuckle and those who would curse.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Might as Well Include Health in my Pact Too
OK, from now on, I will not comment on my emotional state regarding dialysis or my health in general. I will only state facts. I can state facts such as "I am depressed due to an antibiotic," as I did in an earlier post today, but it does no good to voice negative emotions. Voicing them merely feeds them. For most of life, I have followed this creed, but it seems that I have slipped quite a bit lately. I will be more diligent and self-controlled from now on.
Another Wait List Update
Well, the results of the MUGA test were not great--35 percent pumping capacity for the left ventricle. Dr. Phan says that anything 35 or lower is a sign of a heart that could stop at any moment without warning. He and Dr. Lee from UCLA are now thinking of an implantable cardioverter defibrillator (ICD). This is generally used for patients with arrhythmia, which I don't have, but in my case it would be used as a preventative, that is, in case my heart does stop, this would restart it.
My trip to Canada will give them a month to mull it over. I have an appt. to see Dr. Lee on Monday, Sept. 14, after I return from my vacation.
Other than that, things are in a holding pattern for the next few weeks.
My trip to Canada will give them a month to mull it over. I have an appt. to see Dr. Lee on Monday, Sept. 14, after I return from my vacation.
Other than that, things are in a holding pattern for the next few weeks.
Belated Birthday Thanks
I would like to say a special thank you to Aaron, Bev, Diana, Chris and Mark for taking me out for my birthday. Aaron bought me a plant for a decorative pot my neighbor gave me, and then took me out for Indian food at my favorite Long Beach restaurant, Kamal Palace. Unfortunately, later that day, I had a violent attack of vertigo and up-chucked the chutney. Diana and Bev took me to dinner in old town Tustin at Rutabagorzand then to a small comedy club in a nearby office complex. We sat in the front row (of three rows) and laughed and laughed, which is always a good thing.
The event with Chris and Mark was a surprise. I knew that the two were flying into LA from San Francisco for Chris's birthday (one day before mine), and Mark and I had talked of the three of us getting together for a meal. But then they invited me to share their box seats at the Hollywood Bowl to see Grace Jones! Wow, what a show! Mark's long-time friend John Halsey accompanied us. This was quite a delightful evening: Grace Jones looked great, she was incredibly sexy, and her costumes were out of this world.
Mark and I are always tremendously silly together, which I enjoy no end. I'm sorry that Chris and I did not get more of a chance to talk, as Chris said, "You two have been speaking your own language all night long!"
So, thanks, guys, for including me, and thanks, Chris, for my ticket.
The event with Chris and Mark was a surprise. I knew that the two were flying into LA from San Francisco for Chris's birthday (one day before mine), and Mark and I had talked of the three of us getting together for a meal. But then they invited me to share their box seats at the Hollywood Bowl to see Grace Jones! Wow, what a show! Mark's long-time friend John Halsey accompanied us. This was quite a delightful evening: Grace Jones looked great, she was incredibly sexy, and her costumes were out of this world.
Mark and I are always tremendously silly together, which I enjoy no end. I'm sorry that Chris and I did not get more of a chance to talk, as Chris said, "You two have been speaking your own language all night long!"
So, thanks, guys, for including me, and thanks, Chris, for my ticket.
Off to Canada
I'm off to Canada on Tuesday. This is a huge step. My first trip since beginning dialysis, that is, except for one night away from home during Chick Cabin Weekend in May.
I have had three paramedic-ER-hospitalization dramas in the last five weeks. All episodes of severe vertigo (environment spinning, bouncing up and down, and side to side[ couldn't stand; couldn't walk; closing eyes didn't help), uncontrollable vomiting, and very high blood pressure. The cause of these crises is undetermined, but I tend to agree with my nephrologist, who feels the culprit is ciprofloxacin, which was given to me at the end of July to combat an infection in my dialysis tubing. Cipro was also responsible for bouts of depression and weepiness during the treatment time. Unfortunately, cipro is the only oral antibiotic that can attack micro-organisms living on plastic. The only alternative is to receive antibiotics by IV in the hospital. This would be much preferrable to these vertigo spells and to the depression.
The first bout of vertigo was July 2, which was prior to the cipro, but this was also associated with very low blood sugar. Vertigo has never been a symptom of hyperglycemia for me, but perhaps my symptoms are changing.
I had a less severe episode on Wednesday. I was simply talking on the phone when it came on. I had great difficulty walking (had to move along a wall or a cabinet to remain standing), but I didn't vomit and I didn't have to call the paramedics. Even though I stopped taking the cipro a week ago Thursday, cipro side effects can occur up to a month or more after discontinuation. And as I am a dialysis patient, toxins are removed from my body more slowly than in a person with healthy kidneys.
The long and short of it is that I am envisioning a paramedic-free, ER-free, hospital-free vacation in Nova Scotia!
I have had three paramedic-ER-hospitalization dramas in the last five weeks. All episodes of severe vertigo (environment spinning, bouncing up and down, and side to side[ couldn't stand; couldn't walk; closing eyes didn't help), uncontrollable vomiting, and very high blood pressure. The cause of these crises is undetermined, but I tend to agree with my nephrologist, who feels the culprit is ciprofloxacin, which was given to me at the end of July to combat an infection in my dialysis tubing. Cipro was also responsible for bouts of depression and weepiness during the treatment time. Unfortunately, cipro is the only oral antibiotic that can attack micro-organisms living on plastic. The only alternative is to receive antibiotics by IV in the hospital. This would be much preferrable to these vertigo spells and to the depression.
The first bout of vertigo was July 2, which was prior to the cipro, but this was also associated with very low blood sugar. Vertigo has never been a symptom of hyperglycemia for me, but perhaps my symptoms are changing.
I had a less severe episode on Wednesday. I was simply talking on the phone when it came on. I had great difficulty walking (had to move along a wall or a cabinet to remain standing), but I didn't vomit and I didn't have to call the paramedics. Even though I stopped taking the cipro a week ago Thursday, cipro side effects can occur up to a month or more after discontinuation. And as I am a dialysis patient, toxins are removed from my body more slowly than in a person with healthy kidneys.
The long and short of it is that I am envisioning a paramedic-free, ER-free, hospital-free vacation in Nova Scotia!
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Keep Your Mind Guarded Like a City in Battle
From an ancient Chinese medicine text, "The Yellow Emperor's Canon on Internal Medicine," comes these sage words: "Keep your mind guarded like a city in battle." I fell in love with these words the first time I encountered them.
Since that encounter, I see myself as a guard stationed above the door to the castle. A stranger comes to the door and wants to be let in. I tell him that he can speak his mind, and I will then decide whether to grant him entrance. The stranger, of course, are ideas, beliefs, advice, theories, and opinions. The guard listens to all of them, just like I am free to listen to anything anyone says. I then must do the most important job: decide whether such an idea should take up residence in the castle or if it should be sent on its merry way.
As so often happens in life, there are two messengers at my gate with divergent messages. The one who has been there for decades are all the folks over the years who have been telling me that I am too independent and that men want to feel needed by a woman. My friend Beverly, with whom I confided on such matters, says that any man who sees me in one of my full-body orgasms will run for the hills, thinking that if I can get set off by a good kiss or even the touch of a hand, what need do I have for him! But whether it's low sexual threshold or traveling by myself or not falling all over every man who comes along, it's my independence that is keeping men away. That's been the prevailing sentiment. But yesterday Susie told me that I am needy and that this is keeping men away.
I have looked deeply at both these messages, and I have decided not to let either one of them enter my castle. I am proud of my resourcefulness and independence. I get a great sense of satisfaction when I can figure out how to fix something on my own. Of course, I would love to have a man in my life who would say, "Oh, honey, let me do that for you." Wow, that would be fantastic. But he's not here, and I'm not going to start compromising who I am at this late stage. As Tracy Chapman sang, "All I've got is my soul." Amen to that! True, the vast majority of men may be insecure, as Beverly is always telling me. The vast majority might give me a kiss and send me into a bout of quivering and writhing, and that might scare them. But I'm not interested in that kind of man. I'm interested in the kind of man who would see that and say, "Damn, honey, that's what you do with a kiss! I can't wait to see what happens when we take our clothes off!"
Since that encounter, I see myself as a guard stationed above the door to the castle. A stranger comes to the door and wants to be let in. I tell him that he can speak his mind, and I will then decide whether to grant him entrance. The stranger, of course, are ideas, beliefs, advice, theories, and opinions. The guard listens to all of them, just like I am free to listen to anything anyone says. I then must do the most important job: decide whether such an idea should take up residence in the castle or if it should be sent on its merry way.
As so often happens in life, there are two messengers at my gate with divergent messages. The one who has been there for decades are all the folks over the years who have been telling me that I am too independent and that men want to feel needed by a woman. My friend Beverly, with whom I confided on such matters, says that any man who sees me in one of my full-body orgasms will run for the hills, thinking that if I can get set off by a good kiss or even the touch of a hand, what need do I have for him! But whether it's low sexual threshold or traveling by myself or not falling all over every man who comes along, it's my independence that is keeping men away. That's been the prevailing sentiment. But yesterday Susie told me that I am needy and that this is keeping men away.
I have looked deeply at both these messages, and I have decided not to let either one of them enter my castle. I am proud of my resourcefulness and independence. I get a great sense of satisfaction when I can figure out how to fix something on my own. Of course, I would love to have a man in my life who would say, "Oh, honey, let me do that for you." Wow, that would be fantastic. But he's not here, and I'm not going to start compromising who I am at this late stage. As Tracy Chapman sang, "All I've got is my soul." Amen to that! True, the vast majority of men may be insecure, as Beverly is always telling me. The vast majority might give me a kiss and send me into a bout of quivering and writhing, and that might scare them. But I'm not interested in that kind of man. I'm interested in the kind of man who would see that and say, "Damn, honey, that's what you do with a kiss! I can't wait to see what happens when we take our clothes off!"
Is Sad the Same as Needy?
I was in the hospital Saturday and Sunday with another attack of sudden-onset vertigo. While there, I spoke with my friend Susie, the amazing gal who has just donated one of her kidneys to her friend's husband. Susie is a dynamic, playful, intelligent, big-busted, big-hearted woman. Truly remarkable. So when Susie says something, I take heed.
Susie says my posts express a neediness for a man, and that my neediness is keeping men away, that the sadness expressed in my posts are really the writings of a needy woman. As "needy" is not a word I would ever use to describe myself, I thought I had best take a good look at what Susie said.
True, I have been down at times. This last week or so has been very difficult, with bouts of weepiness for seemingly no reason, but I finally associated this with the antibiotic I was taking for the infection of my dialysis tube. I finished the regimen yesterday, and my mood has definitely improved. Other than such pharmaceutically induced blues, I really have been feeling remarkably well since March. (The first month of dialysis and the build-up to dialysis were very difficult, but then I would think they would be difficult for anyone. Surely, no one wants to be doing dialysis.)
I went back and reread the posts in which I share the strategies I have used over the years to boost or maintain my mood--saying aloud "I am loved, I am deeply loved," hugging myself, and going on "fun walks" in which I am very attentive to the beauty around me. In each of these posts I admitted that initially these practices did not bring me joy, that at first they highlighted my aloneness. But in every case, I ended with the deep and profound recognition that something much greater than the little self--call it God if you will--is sending me love. If someone only reads the first half of these posts, yes, I'd agree that they might be downers. But if you read to the end, you see that these are joyful experiences, certainly not desperate or needy.
When I was a child and a young adult and even a not-so-young adult, I was needy. I was in an uninterrupted state of depression and frequent withdrawal from the world. But that Heidi just doesn't exist any more. I had a shift several years ago, a shift that released food as a coping strategy, a particularly life-threatening coping strategy for a diabetic. This shift also included major changes in the way I perceived myself, my mission, and my relationship to other people. Basically, I decided to be happy, no matter what.
Now, of course, things happen in life that challenge that state of being, but these dark times are far less dark than they have been in the past, and they are much more short-lived. Darkness sometimes passes over me like a cold breeze, and I am sad or weepy for a minute or two, and then it is gone.
Susie not only prompted thinking about my own character, but about the wider question: Is sad the same as needy? I sure don't think so. To me, sad is to needy as poor is to moochy (or whatever the adjective is for being a moocher). Sad is personal, something you can keep to yourself, something you can indulge in when you're alone but go out into the world with a smile and a glow about you. One goes home to weep alone, just like one goes home to shit alone, to get out the impurities, so that one can go back into the world refreshed. Needy is 24/7. Sad is personal and can be contained so that it only effects the person who is sad. Others may know the sad person and even be good friends with her and yet always think of her as the happiest, sunniest person going. Needy is a drain on others; needy zaps the people it's around. Similarly, poor is a statement of fact: Someone is poor, he lives in a substandard dwelling, his clothes are worn, and he has few possessions. This is very different from a moocher, who is also poor but who begs, borrows, and cheats his way into getting others to give him a place to live or his next meal or a new set of clothes. He zaps others, whereas the poor man does not. The poor man accepts his state of being and lives as best he can within what has been given to him. So, definitely, all needy people are sad people, but the reverse is not true.
Susie says my posts express a neediness for a man, and that my neediness is keeping men away, that the sadness expressed in my posts are really the writings of a needy woman. As "needy" is not a word I would ever use to describe myself, I thought I had best take a good look at what Susie said.
True, I have been down at times. This last week or so has been very difficult, with bouts of weepiness for seemingly no reason, but I finally associated this with the antibiotic I was taking for the infection of my dialysis tube. I finished the regimen yesterday, and my mood has definitely improved. Other than such pharmaceutically induced blues, I really have been feeling remarkably well since March. (The first month of dialysis and the build-up to dialysis were very difficult, but then I would think they would be difficult for anyone. Surely, no one wants to be doing dialysis.)
I went back and reread the posts in which I share the strategies I have used over the years to boost or maintain my mood--saying aloud "I am loved, I am deeply loved," hugging myself, and going on "fun walks" in which I am very attentive to the beauty around me. In each of these posts I admitted that initially these practices did not bring me joy, that at first they highlighted my aloneness. But in every case, I ended with the deep and profound recognition that something much greater than the little self--call it God if you will--is sending me love. If someone only reads the first half of these posts, yes, I'd agree that they might be downers. But if you read to the end, you see that these are joyful experiences, certainly not desperate or needy.
When I was a child and a young adult and even a not-so-young adult, I was needy. I was in an uninterrupted state of depression and frequent withdrawal from the world. But that Heidi just doesn't exist any more. I had a shift several years ago, a shift that released food as a coping strategy, a particularly life-threatening coping strategy for a diabetic. This shift also included major changes in the way I perceived myself, my mission, and my relationship to other people. Basically, I decided to be happy, no matter what.
Now, of course, things happen in life that challenge that state of being, but these dark times are far less dark than they have been in the past, and they are much more short-lived. Darkness sometimes passes over me like a cold breeze, and I am sad or weepy for a minute or two, and then it is gone.
Susie not only prompted thinking about my own character, but about the wider question: Is sad the same as needy? I sure don't think so. To me, sad is to needy as poor is to moochy (or whatever the adjective is for being a moocher). Sad is personal, something you can keep to yourself, something you can indulge in when you're alone but go out into the world with a smile and a glow about you. One goes home to weep alone, just like one goes home to shit alone, to get out the impurities, so that one can go back into the world refreshed. Needy is 24/7. Sad is personal and can be contained so that it only effects the person who is sad. Others may know the sad person and even be good friends with her and yet always think of her as the happiest, sunniest person going. Needy is a drain on others; needy zaps the people it's around. Similarly, poor is a statement of fact: Someone is poor, he lives in a substandard dwelling, his clothes are worn, and he has few possessions. This is very different from a moocher, who is also poor but who begs, borrows, and cheats his way into getting others to give him a place to live or his next meal or a new set of clothes. He zaps others, whereas the poor man does not. The poor man accepts his state of being and lives as best he can within what has been given to him. So, definitely, all needy people are sad people, but the reverse is not true.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Wait List Update
Several developments in the wait list saga:
* Met with my Kaiser cardiologist, Dr. Phan, who said that my UCLA cardiologist, Dr. Van Herle, is leaving UCLA. I have been assigned a new cardiologist, Dr. Michael Lee--yes, another Michael, which I am taking as a good sign. I have called about an appointment with Dr. Lee, but have not yet secured one.
* I am holding off on the angiogram until after I meet with Dr. Lee. To recap, the angiogram uses a dye that is damaging to the kidneys. Furthermore, patients who are asymptomatic (no chest pain) fare worse with stent surgery (the end result of an angiogram) than without. Also, I have no guarantee that I'll be on the wait list if I do the stent surgery, so this is potentially a lose-lose-lose situation for me.
* Dr. Lee told Dr. Phan that he is willing to begin with a MUGA (Multiple Gated Acquistion) test, which will measure my heart's pumping ability or EF. This should clear up two inconsistent sets of data, one from the nuclear scan done about two months ago that indicated my EF was around 30 and the other from an echocardiogram, which showed an EF of 50, which is the low side of normal.
Months ago I had made plans to go to Canada, thinking that for sure the wait list would be decided by August. Alas, such is not the case. Most likely I will have to wait until after my return on Sept. 9 to undergo the MUGA and see Dr. Lee, so I may not have much news for a while.
Please see my left ventricle pumping like crazy, supplying my heart with all the blood and oxygen it needs to do its job perfectly, smoothly, and effortlessly.
* Met with my Kaiser cardiologist, Dr. Phan, who said that my UCLA cardiologist, Dr. Van Herle, is leaving UCLA. I have been assigned a new cardiologist, Dr. Michael Lee--yes, another Michael, which I am taking as a good sign. I have called about an appointment with Dr. Lee, but have not yet secured one.
* I am holding off on the angiogram until after I meet with Dr. Lee. To recap, the angiogram uses a dye that is damaging to the kidneys. Furthermore, patients who are asymptomatic (no chest pain) fare worse with stent surgery (the end result of an angiogram) than without. Also, I have no guarantee that I'll be on the wait list if I do the stent surgery, so this is potentially a lose-lose-lose situation for me.
* Dr. Lee told Dr. Phan that he is willing to begin with a MUGA (Multiple Gated Acquistion) test, which will measure my heart's pumping ability or EF. This should clear up two inconsistent sets of data, one from the nuclear scan done about two months ago that indicated my EF was around 30 and the other from an echocardiogram, which showed an EF of 50, which is the low side of normal.
Months ago I had made plans to go to Canada, thinking that for sure the wait list would be decided by August. Alas, such is not the case. Most likely I will have to wait until after my return on Sept. 9 to undergo the MUGA and see Dr. Lee, so I may not have much news for a while.
Please see my left ventricle pumping like crazy, supplying my heart with all the blood and oxygen it needs to do its job perfectly, smoothly, and effortlessly.
Monday, August 03, 2009
I am Loved, I am Deeply Loved
Every once in a while, I need a boost, even if I have to supply it myself. I have written about the hug-myself and Spassiergang strategies in previous posts, and I'd like to share another means to maintain one's spirits.
Shortly after I began giving massages for a living, I began holding the thought that the person on my table is loved, deeply loved. I did not say this aloud, but I concentrated on these words and sent their power into the person's body and consciousness. As I did this, I visualized and then felt the loving energy of the universe enter my crown and travel to my heart and then down my arms and out my hands. As I held this thought, I, too, felt deeply loved.
This is a very powerful meditation, as it does not name the person, so the "you" who is deeply loved is both the client and me. In fact, the "you" seems to disappear until only love, pure and limitless and unspecified, remains.
Also, the lover is not named, so the love is not contingent upon this or that person's affections. "You are loved, you are deeply loved" is a statement of each and every person's birthright. In this way, it is far more powerful than "John loves Judy" or "John loves Jack." Love is, always and forever, though it's form may change.
Over the years, I have often whispered "I am loved, I am deeply loved" to myself when I was feeling left out of romantic love or when friends were hard to find. Sometimes this helped me feel better, and sometimes I just felt worse, berating myself for having to be the one to say these words to me.
But I kept saying them nonetheless, adopting the fake-it-until-you-make-it strategy. In time, I shifted in this respect as in many others, and the words turned from mockery into an expression of joyfulness. At such times, I enter into the space of the non-specific lover, and I feel love eminating from the moon and the trees and an evening breeze and a ray of sunshine. All are animated, and all seem to be saying, "Heidi, you are loved, you are deeply loved."
Then a few weeks ago, I had a beautiful insight. For decades I have been affirming that with every day that passes, the man who is matched to me is drawing ever closer. I have also asked that he visit me in my dreams and, by so doing, reach out to me in waking life. The insight that came to me when I was actually feeling quite a bit down about spending yet another year boyfriend- and husband-less was that the man who is matched to me--wherever he may be--deeply loves me. Just as I deeply love him and reach out to him through my prayers and affirmations and dreams, and by so doing, deeply love him, so, too, is he reaching out to me and loving me through his prayers, affirmations, and dreams. What a fascinating kind of love that is! Worth a short story, I'd say.
Shortly after I began giving massages for a living, I began holding the thought that the person on my table is loved, deeply loved. I did not say this aloud, but I concentrated on these words and sent their power into the person's body and consciousness. As I did this, I visualized and then felt the loving energy of the universe enter my crown and travel to my heart and then down my arms and out my hands. As I held this thought, I, too, felt deeply loved.
This is a very powerful meditation, as it does not name the person, so the "you" who is deeply loved is both the client and me. In fact, the "you" seems to disappear until only love, pure and limitless and unspecified, remains.
Also, the lover is not named, so the love is not contingent upon this or that person's affections. "You are loved, you are deeply loved" is a statement of each and every person's birthright. In this way, it is far more powerful than "John loves Judy" or "John loves Jack." Love is, always and forever, though it's form may change.
Over the years, I have often whispered "I am loved, I am deeply loved" to myself when I was feeling left out of romantic love or when friends were hard to find. Sometimes this helped me feel better, and sometimes I just felt worse, berating myself for having to be the one to say these words to me.
But I kept saying them nonetheless, adopting the fake-it-until-you-make-it strategy. In time, I shifted in this respect as in many others, and the words turned from mockery into an expression of joyfulness. At such times, I enter into the space of the non-specific lover, and I feel love eminating from the moon and the trees and an evening breeze and a ray of sunshine. All are animated, and all seem to be saying, "Heidi, you are loved, you are deeply loved."
Then a few weeks ago, I had a beautiful insight. For decades I have been affirming that with every day that passes, the man who is matched to me is drawing ever closer. I have also asked that he visit me in my dreams and, by so doing, reach out to me in waking life. The insight that came to me when I was actually feeling quite a bit down about spending yet another year boyfriend- and husband-less was that the man who is matched to me--wherever he may be--deeply loves me. Just as I deeply love him and reach out to him through my prayers and affirmations and dreams, and by so doing, deeply love him, so, too, is he reaching out to me and loving me through his prayers, affirmations, and dreams. What a fascinating kind of love that is! Worth a short story, I'd say.
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