Day 2314: Look at me!

Look at me, writing a second blog post titled “Look at me!” almost exactly two thousand and two hundred days after the first one.  (Who’s counting?  Look at me!)

Look at me, sharing what I drew in a therapy group yesterday, when the topic chosen by the group was “children.”

Look at me, seeing my wonderful dentist for the first time since his double lung transplant eight months ago.

For the first few years of this blog, I didn’t let anybody look at me!

Look at me, sharing all my other photos from yesterday.

Look at Harley, letting me look at him without running away.

When I searched YouTube for “Look at Me”, I found this ear-splitting, dubbed video of a 7 year old allegedly rapping the late  XXXTentacion’s “Look at Me!” on America’s Got Talent.

Look at me, warning you not to watch that unless you lower the sound before you get to the dubbed rapping.  Here‘s  7-year-old Mir Money‘s actual performance on the show:

Look at Howard Stern hugging Mir Money after he made him cry.

Look at XXXTentacion performing “Look at Me!” live in 2017, almost exactly a year before he was murdered at age 20.

Look at me, looking forward to looking at all your comments about this “Look at Me!” post and also thanking all who helped me create it.

 

Day 2313: Finding the joy

Yesterday, in a therapy group, we talked about finding the joy amid

• physical pain,
• emotional pain,
• illness,
• loss,
• avoidance,
• confusion,
• feeling worse,
• guilt,
• the government,
• being fooled,
• bad news,
• tears,
• anxiety,
• depression,
• difficult people,
• distraction,
• depression,
• dizzyness,
• disconnection, and
• dentists.

Speaking of dentists, I’m finding joy in the fact that  I might see my wonderful dentist — who reads this blog and who is recovering from a major surgical procedure — today.

Can you find the joy in all my photos from yesterday?

I find joy in Michael’s meals and also in knowing that we can all be change agents.

Millions of people have found joy in this flash mob “Ode to Joy” video on YouTube.

Every day, I am finding the joy in expressing my gratitude to all who help me create these posts and — of course! — to YOU.

Day 2034: Is this good news?

If you look at the good comments in yesterday’s post, you might notice that some good people had some trouble discerning whether that post had good news.

The news in today’s post is that I can relate to that confusion.  When I look at the news these days, I often ask myself and others, “Is this good news?”

It’s probably not news that I’m going to share many new photos and relate them to today’s topic.  I ask you, good readers,  is this good news?

 

 

Is this good news that my son Aaron took so many photos of camera-shy Michael? I guess it depends on your perspective and on who you are.

Is “Good News” by Manic Drive good news?

By the way, I continue to get good news about my dentist‘s recovery from a double lung transplant.

I look forward to all the news in your good comments.

Is this good news that I always thank those who help me create these posts and — of course! — YOU?

Day 1613: Home

Welcome to my blogging home, dear readers.

Yesterday, in the home office of a major medical institution in Boston, a therapy group discussed the topic of “home.”   This hit home for me, because soon I’ll be changing my current home for a different one.

I asked the group to write, draw, or otherwise express thoughts and feelings about home. Here’s what I did:

From my home this morning, I’d like to share this music about home.

As I look at my list of “What Makes a Home a Home?” from the comfort of my home,  I see that I wrote “pictures.”  Here are more pictures from yesterday.

 

 

I also wrote that “People make the home” and listed gratitude on “What makes a home a home?”  Many thanks to the people in my therapy groups, to  my bass-playing dentist Dr. Del Castillo, to my friend Deb, to Simon & Garfunkel, to all the other people who help make this my blogging home, and to you — of course! — for visiting me in my home, here and now.

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In honor of the 50th anniversary of the release in the USA of the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, here’s another Home song:

Day 1304: Crystal Clear

Yesterday, one of my doctors — Dr. Laura Kogelman of Tufts Medical Center — said to me

Your lungs are crystal clear.

Dr. Kogelman  made it crystal clear during my appointment with her that

1. my pneumonia is gone,
2. my heart failure has resolved,
3. I am ready to go back to work today,
4. I am no more likely to contract pneumonia in the future than anybody else,
5. we are doing a good job preventing me from getting endocarditis (a dangerous inflammation of the heart which I’ve had three times before because of my leaky heart valve),
6. she misses seeing my wonderful dentist, Dr. Luis Del Castillo (who used to be her dentist too),
7. it’s okay for me to go to Edinburgh, Scotland in August with my son and my ex-in-laws,
8. she thinks it’s going to be “great” when I get a new mechanical valve for my heart in September, and
9. she liked the idea of my transforming my future open-heart-surgery scar with a tattoo.

I made it crystal clear to Dr. Kogelman that I did NOT like her idea of turning that scar into the medical symbol of a snake climbing a rod.  I told her, “I have plenty of medical symbols on my body already” and informed her that if I do decorate that  new scar after I get it in September, I’ll probably add some flowers and leaves.

What is crystal clear to you, here and now?

Are all of my photos from yesterday crystal clear?

Is it crystal clear to you that I made that t-shirt and that I especially like to wear it to medical appointments?

Yesterday, somebody named Jeanyne, who works at Tatte Bakery in Boston  (not pictured), made three things crystal clear to me:

1. she loved my t-shirt,
2. she wanted to own a t-shirt like that, and
3. her mother,  Diane, who recently retired, is just now starting a new business marketing cool new wearable items.

Is today’s featured music crystal clear to you ?

 

Crystal clear thanks to all those who helped me create today’s post and to you — of course! — for all your crystal clear reactions.

Day 1053: Things I never knew

Every day, I learn many things I never knew.

For example, I never knew there were exactly 100 things I never knew about my  own brain.

I never knew there was a brain user’s guide available for purchase, even though I used to write user’s guides in the 1970s.

I never knew they made peeps for dogs.

I never knew how to weld.

Before I started this blog, I never knew I could write about the coolest topics. I also never knew that writing about something would bring more of that into my life, almost immediately.

I never knew where I could find the coolest looks, before yesterday.

I never knew all the anagrams for the word “cake.”

I never knew it was okay to advertise with backwards letters, even though I had an advertising company in the 1990s.

I never knew people decorated cars like cakes.

I never knew cats liked baseball.

Before I met him, I never knew there was a cat that could be as omnipresent as Oscar.

I never knew my dentist would read my blog, every single day.

I never knew it was the 30th anniversary of my favorite ice cream place …

… or that Rancatore’s made a chocolate sorbet.

I never knew I’d work in a part of Boston with so much noisy construction.

I never knew there’d be so many fancy places to live in The Fenway, either.

I never knew I had the nerve to put different colors in my hair …

… or to reveal so much of myself to the world.

I never knew I’d find a dentist’s office that offered hot chocolate, either.

I never knew there were so many different ways to treat sleep apnea.

I never knew that dental devices could be made with a 3-D printer.

I also never knew I had a  thyrohyoid, or where it was.

I never knew there was a town that encouraged people to walk their bikes on the sidewalk.

I never knew that same town had a cafe designed for bicycles.

I never knew that same town had an art walk, either.

I never knew there was a turkey trot in Concord.

I never knew the name of this tree.

I never knew I’d rely on an implantable defibrillator for the rest of my life.

I never knew I’d taste caramel corn ice cream.

I never knew there was a chocolate galaxy, either.

I never knew how many tastebuds cats have.

I never knew that driveways could be so active.

I never knew I’d see so many interesting things in one day, before I started writing this daily blog two years ago.

I never knew I’d find a blogging platform as random as me.

I never knew I’d find perfect music every day, either.

What did you learn today that you never knew?

I never knew there was so much to be grateful for, including wonderful readers like you!

 

Day 978: Loopy

Yesterday morning, I looped by Tufts Medical Center before work, to get fitted for a new loopy mask which loops around my head and attaches to my loopy sleep apnea machine.

While I was at the sleep lab, I saw this loopy sight:

What loopy people would loop a hat and a sleep-apnea mask on a loopy piñata?

After that loopy experience, as I was looping back to my car, I heard somebody say my loopy name. Loopily enough, it was my dentist, Dr. Luis Del Castillo.

We were both loopily surprised to encounter each other in our intersecting  loops through the Tufts Medical Center garage, even though I know he teaches dental medicine there and he knows I get my medical care there.

As we were loopily chatting, my mind looped to my concern — which I had loopily texted Dr. Del Castillo  about — that my recently installed dental filling had looped out of my mouth,  immediately after I had looped through his dental office last Tuesday.   I was loopy enough to ask him, right there in that loopy  garage, if he could check the filling. He said, “I don’t have my loops,” but he was kind enough to look at my mouth, loop-less. Without his loops, he couldn’t see whether the filling was still looped into my tooth, so we both looped over to the Tufts Dental School, where he put on his loops

and told me my filling hadn’t looped out of my tooth. I was loopily relieved that I wouldn’t have to loop by his dental office, any time soon.

Did you know those special dental glasses were called “loops”?  That was news, to loopy me.

If you loop by this blog with any kind of loopy regularity, you know I take loopy pictures in my loops through Boston USA and its loopy environs.  Which of these loopy photos from loopy yesterday seem particularly loopy, to you?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
In one of my favorite loopy encounters of the day — as I was looping back to my car after work through lots of loopy fans looping their way to Fenway Park for a loopy Red Sox game — one of the guys who was looping cars into a loopily priced parking lot by looping around a big flag said these loopy words to me:

It’s a beautiful life. I’ve never seen so many happy people. It must be the Prozac.

I wonder if he thought I was loopy when I laughed with loopy delight, loopily replied, “You think?” and then looped back  to  take a loopily unclear picture of him …

… loopy moments after I wrote down all his loopy words, so I wouldn’t forget them.

Is it loopy to admit that I agree with his first loopy sentence? Is it loopy to admit that he seemed better at diagnosing people’s use of a common anti-depressant medication than me, a loopy psychotherapist?

I need to loop some loopy music into this loopy post, so I can loop by to get my loopy hair cut to loop attractively around my loopy face in time for my 45th high school reunion, in two loopy weeks.

Here’s some music I heard last night in my loopy yellow car, as I was looping my way home for quality time looping through a sushi restaurant, a Dunkin’ Donuts,  and a pet store with my loopy boyfriend Michael and my loopy son, Aaron (not pictured, because they’re not loopy about my taking loopy photos for this loopy blog).

YouTube has a loop of Kurt Elling singing “You Send Me,” if you want to loop over there to find it.

Loopy thanks to all the loopy and non-loopy people who helped me loopily create this loopy post, including my loopy friend and co-worker Jan (seen, above, loopily looping a loopily yellow stethoscope at our sometimes loopy hospital). Especially loopy thanks to Dr. Luis Del Castillo for loopily inspiring this post with his loops and his loopily wonderful kindness. And particularly loopy thanks to you — of course! — for looping by this loopy blog, here and now.

Day 969: Hooks

Yesterday, while I was walking to work, I was hooked by the title and by the music of a Sting song, “Sky Hooks and Tartan Paint.”

If you are hooked by that song, you can find it here on YouTube, which contains a lot of musical hooks.

Immediately after I was hooked by that tune, I was hooked by the sight of an actual hook in the sky:

  
When I got to work, I was hooked by my Wednesday morning therapy group, especially by their expressed relief and gratitude about my return from a two-week vacation.

I was also hooked by some anxiety, because:

• I felt a little out of practice, facilitating a group, and
• I had a 2 PM appointment with my wonderful dentist, Dr. Del Castillo, and — for the first time in years — I  would NOT be hooked up to an IV an hour before a dental procedure to receive endocarditis-preventing antibiotics.

Lest you be hooked by any concern about that, my doctors have decided that taking a single oral antibiotic is enough protection to prevent my heart from the dastardly hooks of endocarditis-causing bacteria (which have gotten their hooks onto my heart valve three times in the last 18 years).

As I am writing this hooky post, I’m being hooked by an unpleasant reaction to the oral antibiotic which is “off the hook, as the kids like to say” (which my boyfriend Michael likes to say). I shall be ringing my doctors’ phones off the hook, and  I won’t let them off the hook until we find an oral antibiotic with fewer yucky side effects.

I’m going to let you off the hook, now, and quit writing about my antibiotics. Instead, here are some other images that hooked me, yesterday:

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Which one of those hook-y shots hooked you?

I am now going to unhook myself from writing this post and take some more probiotics. I wonder if one can get hooked on those?

Sky-hooks-and-tartan-paint thanks to Sting, everybody playing musical hooks in that video,  Michael, Dr. Luis Del Castillo (who is hooked on reading this blog), my therapy groups, PetSmart, Whole Foods Market,  probiotics, every single hook I encountered yesterday, and you — of course! — for getting hooked here, today.

Day 206: Letting Go

When I do my therapy groups, I always start the group with a mindfulness exercise.

When somebody new joins the group, I always acknowledge, honor, and celebrate that by doing a particular mindfulness exercise.

In this mindfulness exercise, I ask people to focus on their breath (a very common focus for a mindfulness exercise).

I invite them to observe, just notice, the breath. They don’t need to change the breath, in any way.

I also invite them to do the following: Breathe in something they would like to take in more of — from the room or from the universe. And breathe out something like they would like to let go of.

Because examples help explain things (especially something new), I always predict how I might do this mindfulness exercise.

I say something like this: “I don’t know what I’m going to breathe in and breathe out, but I’m going to make a prediction. I might breathe in gratitude for all of you being here, and I might breathe out any anxiety about doing something new, because every group is new.” (Other things I’ve predicted  I’m going to breathe in during this mindfulness exercise: hope, connection, and the awareness of each moment. Other things I’ve predicted I’m going to breathe out:  distraction, fear, and anything that gets in the way of my being in the moment.)

I really like this mindfulness exercise.  Even if I’m too distracted to focus very well, even if my mind wanders a lot (because that’s what minds tend to do), it helps to just allow for the possibility of — to make some space for — breathing in something helpful and breathing out something that gets in the way.

Yesterday, when I did one of these groups, there was somebody new there. (And, as I wrote about yesterday, somebody was missing, too, for a very good reason.)

So, because somebody new was joining the group,  I did that mindfulness exercise.

And, as often happens when I do that exercise,  I breathed in gratitude and I let go of …. anxiety.

I had a good reason to be anxious yesterday.

Doing something new is always a “good reason” for increased anxiety.

Here were some of the new things I did yesterday:

1. I facilitated a therapy group, with a new mix of people
2. I needed to get my 3-month teeth cleaning and I had to go to a new place to get the Intravenous antibiotics I require whenever I get my teeth cleaned.
3. I went to a new dental hygienist, to get the teeth cleaning.

Probably some explanation would be helpful, right now, especially regarding #2 and especially for people who don’t know me and/or haven’t read every friggin’ blog post I’ve written this year.

I have a Very Unusual Heart. My VUH is prone to endocarditis (which is an infection of the lining of the heart).  (I wrote about this in detail, on Day 65, when I thought I might have endocarditis again.) Since I’ve gotten endocarditis three times so far in my life, my doctors and I came up with this plan: I will have my teeth cleaned every three months and I will receive an intravenous dose of antibiotics before each cleaning.

This is routine for me, now.

However, many things about this process were new, yesterday.

Some of these things were new because of a change I had chosen –  to go to a new dental hygienist, who works with my wonderful dentist, whom I wrote about here.

That’s my dentist, Dr. Luis Del Castillo (in a photo I took on April 13). (I didn’t take a picture of my new dental hygienist yesterday. Perhaps that’s because I was too ….. anxious?)

Some of the new things I encountered yesterday were due to changes beyond my control.

That’s my beloved IV nurse, Kerri. She left her position a couple of months ago — eeeek! — but, thank goodness, moved to another place within the same hospital, so  I could still work with her — Yay! (By the way, that picture was taken four months ago, at the old location. I didn’t take a picture of her at the new location yesterday.  Any guesses why that might be?)

Yesterday, I was breathing out and letting go of anxiety, every step of the way, as I encountered new things during this process of getting my teeth cleaned, this process of not getting endocarditis, this process of staying healthy and alive.

And when I’m doing something new (and when the possibilities of illness — and death — are more in my consciousness), I definitely have more anxiety to breathe out.

My new dental hygienist (not pictured), named Michel, said a lot of things to me yesterday as she was cleaning my teeth. I didn’t say much because, well, she was cleaning my teeth.

Here are some of the things she said to me yesterday that are sticking in my mind, right now:

1. “I don’t expect you to trust me immediately. You are just meeting me.”
2. “It’s very important to trust your dental hygienist. It’s a relationship. It’s especially important for YOU to be able to trust your dental hygienist.
3. “Let me tell you all the reasons why you won’t get endocarditis by getting your teeth cleaned here.” *
4. “With your history, I would expect that sometimes you might obsess about keeping your teeth perfectly cleaned and other time you wouldn’t want to deal with it, at all.”
5. “Let me know if you are uncomfortable, for any reason, at any moment.
6. “A lot of people cry here. “

She said that last thing, when — in response to her understanding and empathy — I let go, in a rush of tears.

I never cried with my old dental hygienist. That might be a reason why I left, and found a new one.

That concludes this blog post for today.

Thanks to Michel, Dr. Del Castillo, and Kerri; to everybody who has ever helped me stay healthy; and to you, too, for reading today.

______________________________________

* A teeth cleaning at the dentist is the leading cause of endocarditis, for people who are prone to it.

Day 115: Boston Kind (and Strong)

Something I’ve been noticing a lot, during this Year of Living Mindfully (that’s actually a better title for this blog, but it’s too late to change it!) ….  is kindness.  I’ve blogged about that quite a bit, including here, here, and here.

That first linked post is about kindness I encountered away from home, in February — in beautiful Charleston, South Carolina.

The second post is about kindness I deliberately decided to notice after I returned home — to beautiful Boston, Massachusetts.

The third one is about my realization that kindness, lately, has been making me cry  even harder than cruelty has — and in a healing way.

And whenever I write about people who are on “My Teams” (the people who support me)  — like here and here — I’m writing about kindness, too. That’s because Kindness and Competency are my two main criteria, when I’m picking team members.

I think kindness is all around us.  I  see it.  I think I always have — when I’m open to it.

Sometimes, of course, it is very difficult — if not impossible —  to see that kindness. Especially when cruelty is unmistakably present in the moment.

My experience on April 13, in Boston

As I wrote on April 16,  I was in Boston on April 13, two days before this year’s marathon, walking around the site of the future bomb blasts, with my son. The proximity of that experience — in time and space — to the violence, danger, and cruelty on April 15 — felt traumatizing to me after the bomb blasts occurred.

What I haven’t told you yet was this:  WHY I was in Boston with my son, on April 13.

There was another reason why April 13, 2013, was a happy day for me. Another reason,  in addition to sharing — with my son and hundreds of other people —  the excitement and anticipation that has always preceded every Boston Marathon.

I haven’t told you another reason why my  memories of that day – when I was, with my son, in such close proximity to the violence and cruelty to come — were such good ones, that — when the bomb blasts occurred — I feared those good memories might be tainted for ever.

I was there, a few blocks from the Marathon finish line, with my son, on April 13  for ….

Dental appointments.

Dental appointments!  Geesh!  I’m assuming THAT was a surprise to read.

Dental appointments, which a lot of people might find a little traumatizing (and painful and even cruel, sometimes, too).

But I was happy to be there. (And my son had a good time, too, believe it or not.)

And that is amazing, especially for me.

Some background about why a trip to dentist might be scarier,  for me. (Which I am putting in italics, because it’s the most personal section of this post, and I’m assuming some readers might want to skip or skim it.)

I have some reasons to be more scared of dental appointments, than most people.  As I’ve also written about this year, I have an unusual heart which makes me prone to endocarditis. (I’ve  gotten endocarditis three times within the last 15 years, but have caught it early enough to prevent any damage to my heart.)  And a month ago (as I blogged about, of course), I thought I had endocarditis, again.  I didn’t.

Question: What do 10 out of 10 doctors say would cause endocarditis, in somebody like me?

Answer: Any chance for bacteria in my mouth to enter the bloodstream.

In other words, any time my gums bleed, I am at heightened risk to get endocarditis, which — unless somebody vigilantly catches this almost immediately — will cause heart damage.

So, you can probably understand why anything — like going to the dentist — that might make my gums bleed, for any reasons, might feel extremely dangerous to me.

By the way, my medical team and I work very hard to prevent the danger. These extreme measures include my getting my teeth cleaned every three months, after I get an intravenous hit of anti-biotics. 

Why — despite excellent reasons why a trip to the dentist would be especially awful, for me —  my trip to the dentist on April 13 was wonderful.

Here’s why.  My dentist, Dr. Luis Del Castillo, of 77 Beacon Street, Boston MA.

He is — besides being an excellent dentist — one of the kindest people I have ever met.

Really. A kind dentist!  Go figure.

And, like kind people I have met everywhere, he likes to work with kind people.  Here is Stephane, one of the other wonderful people at his dental office:

I met Stephane for the first time, that day.   She was incredibly welcoming and thoughtful, explaining everything to me and asking me, frequently, with the kindest voice, “Are you okay, Ann?”

The Kindness of Strangers kills me.

What I mean by that is this:  I am unbelievably touched when people who don’t know me seem authentically and beautifully kind.

It means a lot to me, because of my experiences as a child (in the hospital, in a time and place where parents couldn’t stay with their kids).

It means a lot, to a lot of people.

And I LOVED the way Dr. Del Castillo and Stephane interacted with each other, too, as they were working with me that day. I wrote a note about it, so I could remember it (and put it in my blog).

This was the interaction I noted:

Dr. Del Castillo (after successfully completing a procedure in my mouth, that was a little tricky):  YES!!!

Stephane (to me):  Have you ever seen anybody get that excited about dentistry?

Me:  No. That is one of the things I love about him.

I’m looking at my  line, above, and I’m noticing that I didn’t name — to Dr. Del Castillo in the moment — the other things I love about him, which are:  (1)  how kind he is and (2) how accessible he’s been to me, when I’ve been scared about something.

Dr. Del Castillo, if you’re reading this, I hope you know — at least, now —  those things I appreciate, so much, in you.

Because of the kind way Dr. Del Castillo and Stephane were acting with me — and with each other — that day, I knew I was going to put them in my blog.  I figured I would write about them within the next couple of days. Perhaps on April 16.

But then, other events ensued, delaying my writing about my wonderful experience at the dentist — until today.

Back to my point (and I did have one) about kindness.

When I am open to it, I see kindness around me.

It’s there. Sometimes it’s hidden, by the cruelty that can be around us, too.

Here’s something else I think:

Experiencing pain can make us kinder, to those around us.  Not always.  But it can happen, for sure.

I’ve seen that — in myself and in others.

I think I’m seeing that now, in Boston.

Evidence backing up my observation that people are being kinder in Boston, now.

I’m more distracted, right now, like most people in Boston. As a result, when I’m driving, it can take me a second to realize a light has changed.

Since April 15, when I’m sitting at a light and it changes, I notice my own distraction and step on the gas pedal  (and here’s the punchline) …. BEFORE I hear a car beep.

This reminds me of a joke I heard on a David Letterman show, many years ago.  It went something like this:

Scientists have identified the smallest measurable time span. It’s the amount of time between a light turning green and the guy behind you hitting his horn.

But people are not hitting their horns, now, IN BOSTON. For those of you who are familiar with that area of the U.S.,  THAT is headline news. (How come you’re not all over that, CNN?  Huh?)

That huge change, which I’m observing,  might just be evidence of something else. It might mean that everybody else — besides me — is more distracted.  So they’re forgetting to hit their horns.

I am observing that people in Boston, in general, are more distracted.  That is true.

But I’m also seeing more patience with each other’s distraction, here in Boston.

My final point, so I can finish this post.

On my walk, yesterday, between the hospital where I work and Fenway Park, near where I park my car each day, I saw this:

A few moments after I took this picture, some guy stopped me, trying to sell me something.  I told him, kindly (I hope), that I wasn’t buying.

Then, he asked if he could give me a hug, and I said, yes.  After the hug, as I was walking away, he said, “I hope I didn’t offend you.”  I said, “You didn’t.”

Now, maybe he gave me a hug because I was wearing my badge, which identified me as a social worker in one of the Boston hospitals, which have been in the news lately. (I was too distracted to realize I was still wearing it, at that point.)

I don’t think so, though.  I don’t think he noticed that.

I think he gave me a hug because we were both in Boston.

Boston Strong AND …

Boston Kind.

That’s what I wanted to tell you, today.

Thanks for reading, wherever you are.

P.S.  As always, dear reader,  if you think it would help you or anybody else to re-blog or otherwise share any post I write here, please feel free to do so. Thanks!