2 BLINDSIDED Part 2

 Yesterday felt very strange.  Unnerving me.

Will had a Moh’s surgery scheduled (for a basal skin cancer), which saw him gone from our home for about three and a half hours.  Over most of that time, I felt fine.  Then, while attending to my grooming routine, I stared into my mirror and felt a sudden sense of dependency wash over me that felt so overwhelming as to sever my connection to positive focus, leaving me feeling so fragile as to fear the vulnerable state that I’ve been in ever since sudden drops in my blood pressure, due to orthostatic hypotension, have limited my ability to get from one room to another within our home.  And as if a vessel within me had sprung a leak, my eyes filled with unshed tears, which had remained blocked behind my wall of denial ever since we received the shocking call concerning our nephew’s sudden death.  It’s as if, yesterday, Shawn’s death and my dependency became real.  To me.

Thankfully, my identification with personal fragility was short lived, as within minutes of the emergence of raw vulnerability, Will returned from the dermatologist’s office with a large white bandage covering most of his nose.  And the first thing my husband did upon entering our home was to make certain that I had water to drink (as my cardiologist said that hydration and salt were vital components to increasing my low blood pressure), leaving me feeling more acutely aware than ever before of Will taking care of me when I’d felt need to take care of him.  Within minutes of my being in Will’s nurturing presence, my anxiety transformed into a natural feeling of personal well being, and though my sense of reality remains clear, my awareness of dependency is not scaring me, because I’ve learned to live in the moment, and from moment to moment as each day goes by, I feel improvement concerning my physical recovery from lung surgery snailing forward.  As to my orthostatic  hypotension, that’s still a mystery, which is why my autonomic nervous system will be tested at Mayo on Friday. And with positive focus buoying my spirit, enough said for today.

🍎🍯🔆Annie

1 BLINDSIDED Part 1

 Over this past week, I’d thought to pen a post, every day, until, ready to write, nothing came forth, naturally, so rather than forcing my think tank to ignore the depths of my grief, I’d tap the icon closing my blog and choose to escape reality by immersing my mind in a novel by Anne Tyler.

Last week, our extended family suffered a death.

A sudden death, so shocking to all that my beloved niece, Jessica, continues to waver between total shock and utter devastation.

When reality offers a nightmare, such as Shawn’s death proves to be for our family, it’s best to peel back one layer of self protectiveness at a time, and as I loved Jessica’s husband, Shawn, dearly, that’s all I feel able to clarify, today.

👩🏻Annie

INTUITION IS ON BREAK

Over this past week, I’ve felt too preoccupied for writing to flow intuitively from my mind onto my iPad’s screen.  Hopefully, penning insight-driven posts will come to me, naturally, quite soon.

On the other hand, I continue to improve physically, though still at a snail’s pace, day by day.

Please be well and stay safe, dear friends …

Annie

TWO KNOWLEDGABLE MINDS ARE BETTER THAN MINE

 So my physical and occupational therapists conferred, after which both concurred about the cause of my low energy on Monday.  You see, having spent all day, Sunday, rooting enthusiastically for one football team after another (and seeing that my emotional reactions are rarely passive concerning competition), the bigger picture began to grow clear—

Upon reflecting over Sunday, I remembered that huffing and puffing took place, not just when going from sitting to standing but while I was cheering on the couch.  And when I say cheering, cheering is what I mean, because whenever a player gets tackled or misses a tackle, my maternal instinct feels sad for whomsoever gave away too much yardage or missed a first down.

‘Annie, while ‘actively’ watching game after game, your heart beat must have increased enough to have given your lung quite a workout on Sunday, so it’s no wonder that your breathing machine had need to rest up on Monday before feeling re-energized, again, on Tuesday.’

As you can imagine, I was quite relieved to breathe in their take, which makes such good sense—

‘Not to worry, Annie.  Overall, you continue to exhibit improvement, each time one of us comes.’

Whew!  Thankfully, their combined assessment is encouraging, for sure!

Annie

WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES

I didn’t write anything, yesterday, because I didn’t feel up to snuff.  Really low on energy.

Feeling more like myself, today.

With Yom Kippur (The Day of Atonement for last year’s sins) being this week, we plan to celebrate Kol Nidre with Steven and Ravi on Wed. evening.  And then we’ll break the fast with Andi and Michael at their place on Thursday.  I’m eager to enjoy this outing for several reasons, one of which is because our destination will not be Mayo.  

I have Shakespeare via Zoom twice this week (Wed. and Fri.), so lots to look forward to between today and the coming weekend.

Yesterday, I worked with my occupational therapist, who, thankfully, offers lots of tips about conserving energy, being that I was so short of breath as to barely be able to walk four steps with my walker before seeking a chair in which I’d stayed put until need to huff and puff had relaxed.  No wonder I didn’t feel like penning a post—thinking with clarity intact demands an oxygenated brain, and it seems that, yesterday, my one lung, valiantly taking on the work of two, was just plum tuckered out.

Today, while working with my physical therapist, I doubled my best time walking (since this last surgery) before shortness of breath saw me in need of parking my walker next to one chair or another in which I’d sit down for brief amounts of time.

When it comes to resting so as to re-oxygenate my brain—

What a difference a day makes!

🙋🏻‍♀️🍎🍯🔆🌻

ROSH HASHANAH 2021

 On Monday we celebrated the first night of Rosh Hashanah, which began at sundown at which time we gladly hosted our close friends, Andi and Michael for dinner—as safely as possible.

Why do I say as safely as possible?  Because Covid is spiking, and Andi and I are both immunosuppressed.

No one with one lung (even if all boostered up) should be found anywhere near Covid.  And as several months back, Andi experienced heart failure, and as her heart still remains enlarged, she was scheduled for the implantation of a pacemaker/defibrillator, last Wednesday—and thankfully, her procedure went well, and she is resting comfortably at home.

Needless to say, neither of us prepared a holiday feast, so dinner was ordered and brought in.

As to safety, our dining room table is eight feet long and wide enough to seat two at the head and two at the foot.  Earlier in the day, while I’d coached from a chair, Will set a festive table, which, when completed, looked like royalty was about to be seated regally at both ends.

With weariness settling in, that’s all I’ll say for today except to send my best wishes to everyone in honor of our similarities and differences while the Jewish people, of which I am one, happily celebrate the birthday of the world. 🙋🏻‍♀️🍎🍯🔆🌻Annie

10 OPENING OUR EYES TO GREET ONE WONDROUS SURPRISE AFTER ANOTHER

Late last week saw us at Mayo for my chest X-ray followed by an appointment with my thoracic surgeon.  This chest X-ray, taken every two weeks, shows how much of the cavity, left by the removal of my right lung, has filled with fluid, thus far, being that our bodies, which do not like empty spaces, fill them up as naturally as they are programmed to take care of our physical needs beginning with the day of your body’s arduous trip through the birth canal (and mine).  And this miraculous self care will last until our lungs inhale their very last breaths after which your spirit and mine, which had filled our bodies with emotional reactions, will pass quietly into the afterlife of which mere mortals, such as we,  know nothing, at all, just as we knew naught of life on earth until we’d ‘passed’ from the womb through the birth canal and found ourselves born, our eyes opening to greet one wondrous surprise following another, each of which appeared between every blink … and now we both know what I think when the subject at hand is the self sufficient nature of your healthy body and mine.

🙋🏻‍♀️🔆🌻Annie

PS Though our bodies are preprogrammed to function like clockwork, our immune systems are grateful for all the help they can get from the brilliant world of medicine being that viruses, bacteria and what have you are often able to multiply more quickly than our white cells can fight infection.  And though the intelligent side of your brain and mine is fully capable of choosing healthy foods with which to nourish oneself, the limbic portion of our brains is always eager to replace fine dining with junk food that replaces the natural flow of nutrients through our vessels.

Ever since cancer decided to make a host of my lung, my respect for the natural workings of my body and for those who choose to study medicine has rocketed, and perhaps, with today’s train of thought in mind, we can more clearly see why my spirit chooses to lift my senses with thankfulness rather than with heavy thoughts, which would drag my body down.

Considering the number of times Chemo has destroyed my blood cells, so that Will found me collapsed on the floor in need of being wheeled to our car before being admitted via the ER into the hospital where transfusions were necessary before my body could function as originally designed, my gratitude for the courageous and generous nature of doctors, nurses, technicians and aides ran as deeply through my heart as did the healthy blood of donors, whom I’ll not have the pleasure of thanking for being instrumental in restoring the good health of my circulatory system, which nourishes every cell that makes my body whole.

9 LOUISA MAY AND ME

Enough said about Covid for now—back to traveling through time via books—my favorite escape vehicle, carrying me ever more deeply into fantasyland or into historical documentation, as determined by which better serves my mindset of the moment.

 “… the wilderness of books, in which she could wander, where she liked, made the library a region of bliss to her.”

—  LOUISA MAY ALCOTT, Little Women”

The same could be said of me.

Though tis true that much of what I’ve learned, over the years, has been absorbed from books, I’ve come to understand why personal experiences, especially those that came out of the blue, will continue to reshape my traits (for better or worse) throughout my life.  (Better if my self-awareness deepens.  Worse if I remain blind to personal vulnerabilities.)

People ask:  What keeps you busy, throughout each day of quarantine?  My reply:  I befriend the characters in every book I read.  I bask in the love emoted from within emails and texts that continue to come in from all over the country.  Now that surgery is more than a month past and we have been all boostered up, Will and I will begin to enjoy friends and family, again, as masked guests, during the day.  And evenings, we’ll continue to cozy up on the couch while binging on one tv series or another.

Oftentimes, Will or I verbally acknowledge our good fortune to ‘have and to hold’ each other no matter how long my need to quarantine in safety persists.  And choosing one’s attitude, during difficult times (which seem endless) is more than helpful when spirits are in need of a boost.

Though there’s much I want to do to straighten up certain rooms in the house, which have somehow cluttered up while I’ve been abed, little gets done, because my low energy level and to-do list do not yet match, so though my day is quiet (unless Steven and Ravi are knocking on our Arcadia door to announce their arrival), I’ve come to crave the sense of peace I feel whenever need to rest (which is often) beckons me back to bed with at least one book for company, sometimes two.

In addition to penning, editing and posting my blog, there’s my weekly Shakespeare class, via Zoom, which sees me studying the brilliant writings of The Bard during the days preceding each stimulating Friday morning class, which offers up lively discussions that I enjoy participating in, immensely … so as you can see, my choice to enjoy a quiet life, sheltered ‘neath an attitude of ‘one day at a time’, does not equate with the tediousness of looking ahead to boring days as long as my processor freely luxuriates within the realm of reading the minds of my favorite authors or authoring mindful trains of thought, all my own …

As to Will, whenever I think to ask—is our prolonged quarantine beginning to drive you crazy?  My husband’s answer is the same:  As long as you’re beside me, I’m happy to be where I am.  As to where Will (who is also an avid reader) can be seen, mornings—he and the newspaper’s daily crossword puzzle are at our kitchen table, and nearby is found the briefcase in which all of my medical records are meticulously stored so as to make certain that with several doctors in two states, nothing of importance slips through the cracks concerning my recovery of good health.  And then, every afternoon sees Will happily ensconced in front of our TV, totally immersed in westerns he’d enjoyed as a kid—escapism proving to be a highly personal thing.

🙋🏻‍♀️🔆🌻 Annie

8 COVID IS A BIGGIE

There is wisdom to be gleaned from every book I’ve ever read—even if the shred of wisdom gleaned is to stop reading a book that serves no purpose other than putting me to sleep.

So what does today’s post have to do with Covid?  Or more to the point, what does today’s post have to do with those who insist on closing their eyes to scientific proof that Covid is a ‘biggie’ and remaining unmasked and unvaccinated by choice places everyone we come into contact with at risk of becoming seriously ill.

Both excerpts seen below are found in the memoir, What Falls Away by Mia Farrow—

 “Tolstoy said: “Nothing needful can be poured into a vessel full of what is useless. We must first empty out what is useless…”

I agree.  Although I’d add:  Easier said than done when the vessel is a human brain filled with nonsense..

Having experienced countless hours of therapy (in hopes of understanding contradictions, which had developed during childhood within the depths of my mind), I’ve learned that unidentified false beliefs exist within the subconscious portion of every person’s brain, thus making a mental feat of facing up to our own hypocrisies, and try as we might—it is impossible to clear out the subconscious hypocrisies of another, because unseen forces from the past remain alive and kicking within us all, which is why it’s truly unjust to judge a person as being ‘stupid’ for refusing the Covid vaccine. 

“The teachings of Buddha tell us that the Self is the greatest obstacle to true understanding:  ‘The worldling will not understand, for to him there is happiness in selfhood only, and the bliss that lies in a complete surrender to Truth is unintelligible to him.’”

So what’s to be done?

Once again, I believe mandates must come from the top in order to ensure the common good, and my belief is based in scientific fact concerning the existence of subconscious  demons, empowered to create blind spots of denial within millions of brains, so that these people can’t see that by remaining unmasked and unvaccinated, they, who are asymptomatic, are amongst those releasing Covid germs into the air while arguing that this highly contagious, dangerous virus is no biggie.

Whereas words will not hurry herd immunity, mandates will.  And if millions get mad, so be it.  Maybe millions of mothers need to march toward the White House holding banners aloft upon which these words can be seen:

The daughters of mothers who encouraged laws against drunk drivers are enraged that Covid continues to run freely through our streets, crashing into people of all ages, who deserve to live long, healthy, peaceful lives.

One last thought for today—if you’re wondering when the story of my life will pick up from where we left me making my way through the dating game in high school, I really don’t know except to say that the day will dawn when my storyteller feels recovered enough from ‘our’ most recent surgery to have regained the energy necessary to claim control over my processor at which time, you and I will find ourselves whisked back into the early 1960’s when good girls were carefully taught to protect our ‘private parts’ from male hands, which proved so eager to demonstrate dexterity at unzipping,  unbuttoning and unhooking as to make one believe that a merit badge was earned by he who had racked up the most points of all. 

🙋🏻‍♀️🔆🌻Annie