I didn't die

Two weeks ago today I thought I was having a heart attack. Nausea, shooting pain and tingling in left arm, panting instead of breathing, blood pressure in the 170s, feelings of anxiety (no kidding!). I called one of my dear sisters who took me to the ER and stayed with me for hours. I sent her home after they decided to admit me for the night.

Now, my mother had a history of uncontrollable high blood pressure. My maternal grandfather died of complications from strokes and my maternal grandmother carried nitroglycerine tablets for as long as my mother could remember. I began taking blood pressure pills a couple of years ago and those seem to have worked. Until that Monday.

After about 24 hours in the hospital, including two chest x-rays, a radioactive CT scan of my heart, a dose of nitroglycerine, another vasodilator, baby aspirin, various other pokes, prods and pills, I was declared heart-healthy (Thank All-That-Is for healthy insurance!). The last cardiologist told me, “If you aren’t exercising, do. If you are exercising, keep doing it.” Whew. I didn’t die.

The doctors have not shared with me their thoughts about what may have caused this scary episode. I’ve tried to figure it out and have come up with the following potential reasons:
a. Aliens invaded my body and my body tried to reject them.
b. My son told me he got an A on his mid-term college exam and essay.
c. I had over 21 days of vacation saved up.

While (a) is a possibility, no one reported any UFOs over Southern California that day. (B) would not have caused my blood pressure to rise significantly. I know my son is brilliant and capable of expressing himself very clearly, and besides, I told him I expected As and Bs on his report cards and would expect to see them each semester.

Therefore I have come to the conclusion that (c) is the culprit. My day job as an insurance broker is extremely seasonal, with May through July being horribly busy and demanding. In addition to being seasonal, it is cyclical, and we are experiencing what is called a “hardening market,” which briefly, means my job is harder to do and I work longer hours.

What does this really mean? I need to be more intentional about relaxing and taking care of myself. I have been taking steps to improve my financial health, physical and mental health and spiritual health and I need to continue and probably do even more in those directions.

So what is my action plan?
1st My son and I are working on cleaning up our home. A neat home is more relaxing than a messy one.
2nd I will find a company to clean out the home I own jointly with my ex. That is the first big step in improving my financial situation.
3rd I will continue to walk and monitor my diet with the intention of losing an additional 10 pounds.
4th I will devote an hour a day to meditation in one form or another. It may be while I walk, it may be knitting, playing piano, painting or Zen sitting. The form may vary, but the intent will be to close down the monkey-mind for an hour each day.

These are small steps. But I will do them as though my life depends on it. Because it probably does.

Mother's Day 2013

Hey Mom, hope you and Grandma are having a smashing good time together. You both died too young and are missed greatly here. Just wanted to give you an update on the family.

Your grandson is maturing into a lovely, thoughtful, caring and compassionate young man. Yes, he’s a slob (gosh, wonder where he got that gene?), but he knows how to clean the kitchen and living room. I usually ignore his bedroom and he ignores mine – it works for us. He’s got his own rock and roll band and plays drums and saxophone and sings in an acoustic punk-folk band. When he isn’t playing or practicing (or playing video games with the guys) he’s studying pre-law at the local community college. He likes his studies and seems to be doing well.

He reaches out to his cousins on a semi-regular basis, and tries to maintain ties to his dad’s side of the family, and to his uncle Paco. He had a long-term relationship with a very nice girl, but that ended a few months ago. After some quiet days and nights, he seems to have recovered. Just as he recovered from that horrible skateboarding accident last December (he wouldn’t be my son without the ER visits, would he?).

I’m still selling insurance and trying to figure out what I’m going to do when I grow up—Ministry is still the top runner if I can retire in the next couple of years from the financial industry. I’ve been participating in a dream group, knitting up a storm and working at the So Cal Renaissance Faire. Oh yeah, and riding my motorcycle in the local mountains. Last year I went on vacation with Jean and with Jeanette.

Your teachings have kept me on a good path:
1. Walk quickly and wear loud clothing. I may have to start sewing again to feed my need for unique clothing, but that’s OK – I’m almost ready to bring your machines and fabric out of the closets (and from under the bed and out of the hall library, etc.).
2. Be nice to the underlings as they can make your life heaven or hell. Yep.
3. Work hard, play harder. I forgot that for a while, but seem to be making up for it these days.
4. Save for a rainy day. You never know when the next ER visit looms, either for your kid or your car or your cat.
5. Don’t hit your brother or your kid or your cat. Ever. I refined this to “Don’t touch another in anger.” Ever.
6. If you’ve been crying every day for a while, go see a doctor. Still working on this one, but getting better.
7. Listen to the advice you give others and apply it to your own situation. Ouch.
8. Hug first. Hard words are easier to say when snuggling.
9. Leave the office at work at the end of the day.
10. Sing lustily.
11. Encourage creativity.

I’m sure there are more, but these are what come to mind as I think of this Mothers’ Day. I hope your grandson remembers to gift me somehow. I reminded him last week that the day was coming. I miss you.

Adventurous Projects

So. I’ve joined an on-line dating service. Trying to describe myself honestly, yet positively enough to interest someone worth knowing is a slippery thing. I’ve tinkered with the description, changing a word here, a phrase there. Added in income level, changed photos, added more about who I would like to meet.

Humbling experience, this on-line dating. In a month of actively “winking” and sending emails, I’ve had one date. I’ve had at least three scammers tell me they are in love with me within 2 emails. They are flattering, but rather scary too. How does one try to remain pleasantly naive without getting hoodwinked? I check photos out on Google Images. I Google their names. (That’s how I found out about the scammers). Did you know there is a whole website dedicated to ferreting out military-related romantic scammers? Boy, were my eyes opened!

Having been rather in hibernation mode for the last several years, it seems the dating scene has changed dramatically since I last was “on the market” (over 30 years ago). I’ve been trying different venues and activities for the past year or so but haven’t been meeting eligible people. Hence the on-line dating.

I think I’m having more luck with my devilishly difficult Damask Shawl project. But I’m not giving up on either project yet. Stay tuned for an occasional update.

Forgive us our trash baskets

A friend sent this to me today in an email with other cute stories of kids and religion: “One particular four-year-old prayed, “And forgive us our trash baskets as we forgive those who put trash in our baskets.”

This one struck me as a wonderful example of how children may interpret something into their own experience and enlighten us poor adults with their truth.

We’ve probably all heard the phrase about our past being baggage that we carry around unnecessarily. I like the imagery of a debt or trespass being trash. One person’s treasure is another’s trash: therefore, something I allow to upset me becomes trash in my basket. Something I dump on another person un-righteously is still my trash and rightfully belongs in my trash basket.

This works ecologically too. I saw a picture today of a landfill where erosion from a massive rainstorm uncovered trash that was probably buried in the 1960 – over 50 years ago. Plastic bags and a tire were still very clearly NOT much degraded by half a century of being underground. Mother Earth, please, please forgive me my trash basket.

And the theme of forgiveness: I think a lot of our unprocessed emotional baggage may be from not having forgiven previous injuries. So if we can do the hard work of forgiveness, we can empty our own trash baskets and quit putting trash in others’ bins. No recycling of old hurts needed or wanted. Just clean up.

Ah, if it were just this easy. Forgive us our trash baskets as we forgive those who put trash in our baskets. Out of the mouth of babes…straight into g-d’s ear, please and thank you.