Day 2740: I forgot

I forgot why I decided to call this post “I forgot.”

Wait!  I remember.

I forgot to check the celebrity gossip yesterday. I also forgot to share yesterday’s Daily Bitch Calendar.

I forgot to mention that I think there are many delicate balances in life.

I forgot what that off-shore structure was for (if I ever knew), but I didn’t forget to take more photos of it yesterday for the amazing blogger Christopher Waldrop (who mentioned it in a comment about yesterday’s post).

I forgot that we bought a “Breaking Bad“  hat years ago.

I forgot most of the episodes of Breaking Bad because I binge-watched them so I could watch the final episode with Michael and Aaron.

I forgot that we  bought a silver pen so that the star of Breaking Bad,  Bryan Cranston, could sign that hat, but he forgot to come out and meet fans after a performance of the play All the Way in Cambridge before its Broadway opening.  I forgot whether that was the only time he didn’t come out during the Cambridge run of the play, but I think so.

I forgot my cardiologist’s story about meeting Bryan Cranston, but I think it was a good one. (My cardiologist has SO MANY stories and I have so many stories about him.)

I forgot to feel sad about Oscar’s cancer yesterday, because he is doing so well.

I forgot why yesterday was an all-day “New Event” in my calendar.

Don’t forget: every day is an all-day new event.

I forgot whether the rest of my photos from yesterday fit today’s topic.

I forgot to ask a question from that book in my Coping and Healing group yesterday.

I forgot to take off those socks before my Coping and Healing group, but nobody could see them anyway.

I forgot to practice keyboards.

I forgot to read more of that excellent book about how the body remembers trauma.

I forgot how the ocean looks so different, every friggin’ day.

 

I forgot to remind you how awesome you are.

I almost forgot to share that photo of Michael’s latest cooking masterpiece. I forgot to eat crunchy snacks yesterday because Michael’s vegetables are so satisfyingly crunchy.

I forgot all the details of this old Steve Martin routine.

Don’t forget to leave a comment and I never forget to express my gratitude to all my readers, including YOU.

Day 2667: Until it doesn’t

Everything can seem to be a certain way until it doesn’t.

.

Everything looked fine about my attending a week-long conference in NYC the first week in March, until it wasn’t.

As of this morning, several people from the conference have tested positive for the coronavirus, including somebody I spent most of my time with there.

As soon as I noticed a low grade fever two days after I returned from the conference, I alerted my workplace and my doctors. Even though everything seemed fine at that point, I suspected it wasn’t.

And my fevers were low until they weren’t.

And I was in the emergency room until I wasn’t, admitted Monday night to a private room with maximum precautions.

And we believed there would be enough coronavirus tests available to test me, but there wasn’t.

There will be egregiously low access to testing in this country until there isn’t.

Because of all the scary reports of how the coronavirus might affect somebody like me (over 60 with a chronic heart issue), my immediate future is going to worry me until it doesn’t.

As I am home in self-quarantine with Michael and the cats, I am taking photos of what cheers me up until it doesn’t.

That was a tale of two kitties until it wasn’t.

I’m constantly monitoring my low grade fevers until they aren’t.

Pasta is still my favorite food until it isn’t.

This recent email exchange with my cardiologist strikes me as funny until it doesn’t:

Ann

There is nothing you can do now. If you spike a fever or get short of breath you should come to the hospital. As you know even if tested positive the plan would be to stay home.

Contact me if anything comes up.

Deeb

.

Could you promise to save me a ventilator if I need one?

For old time’s sake,

Ann

.

I’ll have them give you mine!

.

Here‘s “It Hurts Until It Doesn’t”, a song by Mothers about a lost cat.

This post keeps going on until it doesn’t.

Day 2629: Fresh on so many levels

Yesterday,  when I was fresh from a very good meeting with my cardiologist Dr. Deeb Salem, I saw this:

There so many levels of meaning for the word “fresh.”

FRESH adjective
\ ˈfresh \
Definition of fresh
1a : having its original qualities unimpaired: such as
(1): full of or renewed in vigor : REFRESHED
rose fresh from a good night’s sleep
(2): not stale, sour, or decayed
fresh bread
(3): not faded
lessons fresh in her memory
(4): not worn or rumpled
a fresh white shirt

b: not altered by processing
fresh vegetables
2a: not salt
fresh water
b(1): free from taint : PURE
fresh air
(2)of wind : moderately strong
a fresh breeze

3a(1): experienced, made, or received newly or anew
form fresh friendships
(2): ADDITIONAL, ANOTHER
a fresh start
b: ORIGINAL, VIVID
a fresh portrayal
c: lacking experience : RAW
coming fresh to the job
— Helen Howe
d: just come or arrived
fresh from school
e: having the milk flow recently established
a fresh cow
4[ probably by folk etymology from German frech] : disposed to take liberties : IMPUDENT
don’t get fresh with me
5 slang : FASHIONABLE, COOL

I hope my other photos in today’s fresh post  are fresh on so many levels.

Here‘s a song I remember that used the word “fresh”.

I’ll be looking for so many levels in your fresh comments, below.

I’m grateful on so many levels, here and now.

 

 

Day 1732: Got a second?

Got a second? I’d like to tell you about yesterday’s appointment with my cardiologist, Dr. Salem (who is second to none).  While I was waiting several seconds in the exam room for Dr. Salem, I took a second to snap this:

Got a second to hear about my conversation with Dr. Salem?  Dr. Salem said he couldn’t be more pleased about how my heart is beating every second, as I begin my second year after my heart valve replacement surgery last September.   I seconded that opinion.

Got a second to look at some more split-second photos?

Got a second to listen to “A Good Thing Going” from Merrily We Roll Along, which I’ll be seeing for a second time this weekend?

If you’ve got a second, keep a good thing going by leaving a comment below.

I’ve always got a second to thank all who help me create these posts. Second, I want to thank YOU for being so supportive, every second.

Day 1529: Compassion will make you beautiful

I hope you have compassion for the beautiful teabag I encountered yesterday morning:

Do you believe that compassion will make you beautiful?  Do you see beautiful compassion in any of my other photos from yesterday?

 

That is the beautifully compassionate Dr. Deeb Salem. When I asked him yesterday how he thought I was doing, his compassionate  reply was, “I think you’re doing great.” Isn’t that beautiful?

Here‘s a beautiful and compassionate song.

Thanks to all the beautiful people who helped me create today’s post and to all my beautiful readers — of course! — for having the compassion to visit me, here and now.

Day 1528: Other people’s worries

Hello, people!  Do you have worries, right now?

If you do have worries, how might that affect me or other people?

Does anybody worry about how your worry might make other people worry?

Don’t worry, people!  I’m now getting to the point of this post.

Lately, as I recover from open heart surgery, I have noticed other people’s worries about me.  Other people’s worries result in worried questions, like “Are you sure you’re up to this?”  “Are you doing too much?”  “Are you taking on too many things, too quickly?”

I’m not worried about these other people’s worries. Instead,  I appreciate their concern.

However, I do not take on their worries.  I’ve got enough worries, of my own.

Today, I’ll be seeing my cardiologist, Dr. Deeb Salem. If he’s worried, THEN I’ll be worried.

Are other people worried about whether I have any photos to share today?

 

 

Don’t worry, people, I’m going to explain that last photo.  Yesterday, a water main broke in the Longwood Medical Area  of Boston.  Other people besides me were very late to work.  Did that worry me?  No.   Did it affect my sense of self worth?  Don’t worry about that, either. I and many other people have been working on keeping our sense of self worth protected from everything that comes at us, including other people’s worries.

I hope people aren’t worrying about what YouTube video I’m going to share. When I search “Other people’s worries,” THIS comes up:

I’m not worried about those dogs. Are other people worried?

Other people who regularly read this blog are not worried, I’m sure, about whether I’m going to express gratitude to all who helped me create this post or to you — of course! — for being here, now.

 

Day 1502: Opening the heart

I’m going to  open my heart to you, here and now, and tell you about a dream I had last night. In that dream, my open-hearted cardiologist, Dr. Deeb Salem, told me that my new mechanical valve (which I got during open heart surgery in September) wasn’t working correctly and that they were going to have open up my heart again to fix it.

I wonder if that dream about reopening my heart was triggered by this image I saw yesterday morning, at the beginning of a blizzard here in Boston?

When I saw that opening-the-heart image yesterday morning on my way to work,  it opened my heart in a good way. My heart opened up with appreciation for all those things that are key to opening my heart to love and to new possibilities. And when I  opened my heart (and my iPhone camera) to other images during the day, I continued to think about that first open-hearted image.

As you open your heart to my other photos, do you see any keys to opening the heart in them?

Today, I’ll be opening my heart to patients on the first Friday I’ve worked since my Open Heart surgery in September. But first, I have to open my heart to cardiac rehab at 7:30 AM.

Do I have time to open our hearts to an Opening-the-Heart song?

As usual, I end every post by opening my heart with gratitude to all who helped me create this post and to you — of course! — for opening your heart to me, today.

Day 1417: Tough

The tough title of this post is inspired by the first photo I was tough enough to take yesterday, while I was doing some tough exercises at cardiac rehab:

Based on my understanding  of (1) the word “tough” and (2) the staff at cardiac rehab, I assume they meant  I am “strong and resilient” rather than “difficult.”

If you want me to provide citations for those two definitions of ‘tough,” one word:

Tough!

The last few months have been tough for me, as I’ve undergone several  tough cardiac-related surgeries and suffered other tough slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

Apparently, I’m tough enough to take it,  because here I am, writing this tough post today.

Now, some of my tough readers probably want to know how tough my day was yesterday, since I mentioned in yesterday’s tough post that I’d be seeing lots of tough doctors and getting some tough tests at my tough hospital.

I hope it won’t be too tough for you to tough it out through several other tough photos from yesterday, first.

 

For those of you tough enough to make it through all those tough images, here’s my news from my tough day:

The news is good.  My tough doctors told me that all the tests show that I am exactly where I should be, after all the tough things I’ve been through.  As a matter of fact, my tough doctor, Mark Estes (not pictured), said this to me:

We’re going to keep you going until your 90s.

While recent events have shown lots of tough people that it is VERY tough to make accurate predictions, that was not tough for me to hear.

It’s tough for me to decide which tough music to include for this tough post, so I will leave that to my tough readers.

When the going gets tough, the tough get going. The tough writer of this tough blog does need to get going, but not until I express thanks to all, with three more tough photos:

Day 1391: Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

To start telling this story, today’s post title is a quote from the musical Hamilton.

 

Who lives, on the day I’m writing this?

• I do, against all odds and even though a team of doctors at the Mayo Clinic  essentially killed me* on September 21 in order to repair my heart before they brought me back to life.
• Mel Brooks, thank goodness, even though he is 90 years old (and whom I’ll be seeing today in person in Boston).
• Approximately 7.5 billion people, according to this link.

 

Who dies, on the day I’m writing this?

• Kevin Meaney, suddenly at age 60, who was one of my and my son’s favorite comedians.
• 151,600 people, according to this link.

 

Who tells your story?

I’ll tell you who tells my story —   it’s me, through this blog.  Perhaps because my story has included so many doctors and medical institutions from the moment I was born, it’s VERY important to me to be the expert of my own experience — the primary teller of my own story. Of course, I can’t control how others will tell my story after I die, but to quote Kevin Meaney about that, “I don’t care.”

Here’s how I photographically choose to tell my story of October 21, 2016, when I went to  one hospital for cardiac rehab and then to another hospital to get blood work to prepare for ANOTHER surgical procedure on November 2 and also to drop in on my  amazing cardiologist Dr. Deeb Salem:

 

And because we do need help from others to tell our stories, I want to thank my friend Carol, who is such a wonderful woman, for capturing the story of those last four photos.

Here’s the last photo that I took yesterday, to tell my story:

Now, how would you tell a story in a comment, below?

I’ll end today’s story with live gratitude to all those living and dead who helped me create this post and to you — of course! — no matter how you tell your story.

---

* I’m glad you lived to read  this part of my story from the Mayo Clinic surgeon’s report on  September 21:  “The aorta was occluded, and 800 cc of cold blood cardioplegia was infused into the aortic root obtaining satisfactory asystolic arrest.” Doesn’t that sound like they satisfactorily killed me?

Day 1375: Band wagon

Time to join the band wagon of Ann’s readers, who are used to seeing her begin posts by defining phrases like “band wagon.”

band·wag·on
ˈbandˌwaɡən/
noun
1. a wagon used for carrying a band in a parade or procession.
2. a particular activity or cause that has suddenly become fashionable or popular.
“the local deejays are on the home-team bandwagon”

I had a recent experience with definition #1, when one of my  Boston cardiologists offered to pick up me and my boyfriend Michael at Boston’s Logan Airport in a band wagon, no matter when  we returned home after my September 21 open heart surgery at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota.  However, I foiled that band wagon by returning late at night and way before anybody expected me to —  six days after my heart valve replacement surgery.

By the way, I just noticed that WordPress is suggesting I invite my readers to join a band wagon (definition #2) by including this message at the top of post-creation page:

Encourage your US-based users to register to vote by adding a subtle prompt to your site.

If you were in my band wagon  of classic American movie musical fans, you might add a third definition of “band wagon,” like so:

3. the most intelligent AND fun American movie musical ever made starring Fred Astaire (as opposed the most intelligent AND fun American movie musical ever made starring Gene Kelly, which is Singin’ in the Rain).

Because I like to join band wagons of people recovering from a traumatic event like surgery who treat themselves exceedingly well, I watched the beginning of The Band Wagon yesterday morning, which included these two musical numbers (here and here on YouTube):

No  matter what is going on in my life, that second number from The Band Wagon puts a melody in my heart, gives me a singable happy feeling AND a wonderful way to start my day.

Now, would you like to join the band wagon of Ann’s readers who enjoy looking at  images captured on her iPhone from the day before?

 

Those last two photos feature Dr. Deeb Salem, one of my band wagon of cardiologists (but not the one who offered to pick us up in a band wagon at the airport).  In the first photograph, Dr. Salem  is with Dr. Marvin Konstam, 31 years ago, as they performed the first heart transplant at Tufts Medical Center. In the second photo, Dr. Salem is with the person who is writing this here blog post on band wagons.

Now, would you like to join the band wagon of people who keep telling me I look way too good to have had heart surgery a scant two weeks ago?

Because I always like to join the band wagon of people polite enough to express thanks when they are feeling gratitude, here’s a message to all those who helped me create this post and to all those who are reading it, here and now: