5 Years Ago Today

The last words I heard were "Put her out."

My chest was cracked open.

Machines pumped life thru ny body as I slept

My heart had to be stopped and

"Readjusted" so the surgeon could go behind and inside it

To replace my mitral valve, which I never knew existed until 2 weeks prior...

Work was done and heart jumpstarted

In recovery, I woke up sooner than expected-

Imagine that

They had to hunt down the surgeon to

OK the tube removed from my throat

In ICU, I was shot up with painkillers

Doozed in/out, mainly out

As "American Idol" was played on TV

Open-heart surgery 5 years ago today-

Will never stop talking about it

Death was the alternative

He had other plans.

4 days later the doctor said I could go home.

On this day, in 2011, I marvel at the

Birds in my yard and new blooms

Simple things. Great things.

5 years ago, I wondered how

Different my life would be

....and I am still in discovery-

I am blessed.

New Year's Eve Eve

Can you believe it?

2010 is about to close up on us. Seems kinda like yesterday it New Year's Day 2010, then we have a 12 inches of snow in February, I start school, a new job, gain weight, lose weight, gain weight, attend, my all decade High School reunion in Iowa, think about giving up this house, celebrate my 4th year anniversary of that pesky open-heart surgery I had, committed to a new church home, started new friendships, strengthened some, kinda tapered off on others, pet cats, fed cats, cleaned litter boxes, said good-bye to the sweetest kitty-Perry (who remains on this blog's banner), started a novel (again), saw a chum get married who I watched go from a brat to an intelligent, successful woman, basked in the thought of making a peach pie with peaches from my own peach tree, only to have my outside 'pets' take a bite out of just about every one, tried Vietnamese food because a classmate asked me to, still ponder what color to paint these walls--I have enough color strips on them as is...and well....you get the picture.

On this next to the last day of 2010 looms, I'll reminisce of what happened and what didn't. I'll Thank God tonight becausse he let me see this day, and I'll thank Him tomorrow if He sees fit to wake me up. Then I'll wipe the sleep from my eyes as the final day of the year beckons and may have the look of this kitty...

"2010, it's been good. It has. I'll miss you. I got my impatience showin'

See, me and 2011 are eager to get our year long party on!"

And yes, the kitty DID say that...!

Heart and Humidity.

Since my little open-heart surgery adventure, back in March '06, I've learned to listen more to my body. My body's reactions, I usta pretty much ignore. Learned how to adjust, unless the culprit is humidity when the heat is high. Like today.

Summer tries to slap us upside the head, just a few more times, until October comes round the bend. This morning, when I left for work at 7:30, the temp was already 80 degrees F and the humidity was 88 %. Muggy with a capital UGG.

I felt it. Bad. It doesn't happen that often, yet when it does, I do panic. Smacks me upside the head. I wonder if my breath will be short. Will I pass out? I didn't have to walk far from the parking lot to my job, once I arrived. I'm glad because I felt it all the way. Don't like that feeling.

Yea, my scar itches sometimes, however it's the high humidity like today, when I'm reminded I did get my chest cracked open and a machine pumped blood and oxygen into me to keep me alive while surgeons worked on me. Oh, and and for my mitral valve replacement surgery, they had to readjust my heart so they could go behind it and inside my heart to fix me. Adventure, indeed.

So this morning I recalled it all. Now when I left work today, the temp was up in the 90's, heat index over 100, yet the humidity is at 52%. Not as hard as this morning's smack upside the head, just a little thump.

You realize how far you've come and with a wave from Mother Nature, you realize how fragile you really are. So you seek a remedy:

Trust me.
It works.

Then

As I drove home, after pretty much planted in my work seat all day today, I knew needed to do something. I recalled my visit to my cardiologist a week ago, this very day, for my six month check up. After the pesky open-heart surgery, in 2006, things I never thought would ever be in my repertoire are now life long routines. I'll talk about all that, as the anniversary grows closer--not today.

My Heart Doc, is great. Love her. She's just a couple years younger than me, and has a 21 year old cat. Yes, we've bonded. Even if she's about a size 8, and looks like a young Susan Lucci.

I digress. So anyway, first thing Heart Doc tells me is, "You need to exercise more." I stare at her. How did SHE know I'd not being as religious to my exercise as I once was?

My ECHO (ultrasound of my heart), Heart Doc says, "It told on you." Went on to say, we need to make sure my heart muscle is as strong as it can be. I sat there, on the bench/bed thing, just furious at myself. Being the sweet person she is, Heart Doc tried to encourage me. God bless her.

I can only blame me for not walking the at least 5 days out 7, or the not biking, and let's not even mention racquetball or the dance classes I desire to take. Now, I've been doing my 74 ounces of water, however there's not been enough motion to eat up the calories, some good and not so good, I chow per day. I know better. I remember those IV's stuck in my hand. Can't blame anybody--'cept me.

So back to the main thought of this tale, hey, I know I get a bit long winded--it's the writer in me..:) And if anything I write makes you chuckle--I'm glad, because it's suppose to. OKOKOK, So as I drove home, before I even got home, I pulled into the park up the street from my house and parked.

Got out and walked around the park. No excuse since I had on my tennyshoes, and it is a nice path--inclines, flat, ducks, pond and trees-nice. Kinda chilly, so had my gloves on too. Scooted around the path. Felt good to do it. Needed to do it.

Already set tomorrow's date to do it again.

My heart deserves it.

Stay tuned.

Tuesday Twinkle

Had the day off. So nice. Jaunted to see my Heart Doc for my 6 month check up. Said all my numbers looked good. I looked good. My mechanical mitral valve sounded good. And silently I was glad the medical assistant didn't weigh me. Said their scale was outta whack. Being told tidbit that lowered my blood pressure about 10 points alone. The only thing my Heart Doc says is, "You need to be exercising more."

I laughed. I told her how I hadn't been doing it as much of recent times (months?) as I should.

Heart Doc laughed back and said they could tell. Turns out my recent ECHO (ultrasound of my heart) showed them my dirty little secret. My Heart Doc says we need to make sure my heart muscle remains strong so.....And I so agreed. After my appointment with her, I sauntered to my Coumadin check aka my POKE test (which lets me know if my blood to thick or too thin, where my valve is concerned), I headed to the park I walked so many laps around during my open-heart surgery recuperation. This was at the apartment complex I lived in prior to the purchase of the house. Had the park there, plus a work out room for the days I couldn't get outside. I still miss the convenience of the two.

Lastly, after my laps of the park. I sat on my Forrest Gump bench. How many times had I sat and contemplated how life would be as each day I grew stronger? All in all, a nice walk. Pet a couple of dogs out walking their humans. Nice to realize time has moved on. Nice to realize I've had no set backs.

Nice to know I am blessed.

Twinkle in my eye indeed.

Seven Months

From this day--will be my birthday.

Ha! Folks who have known me forever will shout in unison, "ALREADY?" You see, I would start the countdown to my birthday in December--right after another chum's birthday, because mine was next. Had the exact day count and all. Well, folks can heave a sigh of relief--for now anyway. :)

Being kinda reflective. In seven months I'll be a year older. Wonder where I'll be--professionally and personally. Part of me would like to have the cash to get some home in the boonies--well, not that far from the boonies thatI can't get to a Target or Wal-mart--but far enough-I'd have some space. A chum of mine has a house, where all his neighbors' backyards face a foresty area and the creek. It's smack dab in the middle of the town. I love his. Rustic, yet close to the Barnes and Noble, yet space enough for maybe the adoption children I've thought about.

Anyway, just to think of what can be, what is and what I want. Which of course, not what He knows I need. Big difference.

In seven months, I'll be in the midst of Dancing With the Stars part II and American Idol. Hey, I'm addicted to both those shows. Also, will be wondering how long the Dallas Mavericks will play that season. Play offs start in April. In seven months, I wonder what kind of job I'll be doing. Will I have sold some writing and/or finished a book in time for that summer's All 70's Reunion at my Iowa High School?

In seven months I'll smile how three weeks before my birthday, it was my fourth anniversary of that pesky open heart surgery. Where my scar dares daily dares to remind me of. How I've lived to see another year and splurge at Burger Island--the best burger place in Dallas.

Yea, in seven months I'll still pet a cat. However on this September 8 night, I wait my pizza to pop from the oven.

Hey, I can be reflective, serious and all tha, but the timer signals be back to the present.

In seven months, I know I'll still be blessed.

Knock Down

"You're such doll. And would be such a knock out, if you lost some weight."

These words were uttered yester-decade, specifically the 1980's. It was also the last time I paid attention to it.

A co-worker, a woman I bonded with over our $4.67 per hour part time job at now defunct airline and since forgot her name, spit this gem out after I poured out my heart. Over what? Well, a man, of course. His name was Frank and he painted houses. We'd met at a local bar and danced the night away. By the dawn of a new day, I was smitten. Would Frank call? So my co-worker listened as my cup runneth over and then she pour salt in my wound.

When she first said it, believe it or not, I agreed. My friends today would gasp in disbelief. Hey it was the 80's and my confidence-o-meter wasn't quite so high! Amazingly I squeaked, "I am a knock out!" The co-worker looked at me while I gave her a quick glance. What had I done? I didn't really half believe it myself. Somehow, I promised myself never an implication of if I was thinner then I'd be so-so pretty would be said in my air space again.

And it hasn't. At least to my face.

I believe you can look good and feel good at any size. IF you have the positive confidence/attitude and choose to take the time. Big Girl clothes just aren't polyester muu-muu's anymore. To lose weight is to help my overall health. Having the open-heart surgery in 2006, brought me to reality. My temple is a miraculous thing. I want to keep it this way. No visions of size 4 dance in my head, yet I know a healthier me accentuates my already positive. Age and wisdom also help, with a touch of God's mercy. :)

It ain't easy. Anything that's good ain't ever easy. Makes it worthwhile.

Since I thought of this guy Frank, here's the song that even to this day, makes me smile at the thought of him. Frank did paint houses: John Mellencamp's Pink Houses!

Monday Muse

Once again, I question on taking an undetermined hiatus from this blog.

And I enjoy doing the blog.

However, my hits aren't as they were. Not giving what readers, I do have, what they want to read.

As much as grew up, followed the Osmonds, yet still rocked in the 70's, partied like it was 1999 in the 80's, thought I was a true adult in the '90, however I realized I'd not completed as much as I thought I woulda done by now in the 2000's--so what to do?

Write about just my survival of open-heart surgery or being born with microtia (born without an ear--in my case, I do not have a left ear) or being half a century with no husband or kids (which I miss not having) or the desire to produce a play from my own words, dance, sing, and play piano or the loss of my mom when I was 13 and being an only child at that?

Hmm. I've done that-only not every day.

Maybe I should? But which one? I'm open for suggestions.

However, since I've biked and treadmilled, must take trash to the curb, contemplate washing the dishes, pet a cat, chow a salad so my coumadin stays in check, watch "The Closer" and get on my knees and thank God for this life.

Stay tuned.

I am blessed.

Star Thursday Thought

Watched the Oprah episode about weight loss, with Valerie Bertinelli, Marie Osmond and Star Jones. Granted, Star Jones was a story everybody wanted to hear yet, knowing about Valerie and Marie for years, I would have liked them to have more time.

I digress.

Back to Star. I'm still not as big of an admirer as I first was, however I liked her more after watching her this time, than I did--say, on Larry King after she left The View. I pretty much quit watching The View because of her. Tired of the wedding stuff, etc. But today, was different.

Star's talk of not letting anybody know she had gastric bypass. How she wasn't strong enough to face her fears. Possibly disappointing people. All that reminded me of me and my open-heart surgery. Not everybody knew what was wrong with me to be in the hospital. In fact, when I went back to work, some folks thought I had gastric bypass because I'd lost so much weight (and since gained half of it back--drat!) Some of the folks I grew up, with didn't know. I also realized, like Star said about her The View comrades, how much of a burden she put on them to keep her confidence.

And I did that to Movie Man. I didn't realize how much burden was on him. I'm forever sorry for that. And I've told him so. Didn't give him as much thought for what he felt, as I should have as IV's were pumped into my veins. Heaven knows I had enough time on my hands. Co-workers knew we were close, so he would know the truth. I was being selfish. I wanted to be the one to tell them my illness, plus I didn't want a lot of 'there, there' around me.

Yes, indeed, you WANT folks to be there for you. They're scared--maybe more than you realize. In fact one of my closest chums told me recently how she thought she would lose me. I never knew. Sometimes though, the visitors can tire you out when you need rest. I'm blessed for everyone--they were there in a shade drawn moment of my life.

Back to my point, Star said she would disappoint folks if they found out. I wondered if I thought that. And I did. Not with the surgery--oh heck, that was a piece of cake. Nope. I was petrified, when I first went into the hospital and my speech was interrupted.

I'd had the stroke that wasn't a stroke from the piece of endocarditis broke off and traveled to my brain. My neurologist said it caused my brain to burp--but that was a few days after my speech cleared up. But before--oh man--I was devastated if I could not communicate as I once did. I was known for my speech, my mannerisms and now I was scared it would all be gone. I sat in that hospital and feared I would always be able to understand folks (and I could) but to reply would be slurred and/or I'd miss a word in a sentence.

For instance, the doc would say "have a nice day." And I would respond: "have a day." I'd hear them, but my brain wasn't quite there. During that time I thought I would not be good for much. What could I do if I couldn't talk? That's when I wasn't strong enough to tell others outside of my circle, because I wasn't the same. Their memories of me were fun lovin, do anything she wanted and hey, it's party because she's here. Without fluid speech, I felt, I would never measure up again.

To think that,-wow- I musta still lacked some brain cells.

Would I do some things differently? Yes. For one, my boss at the time, I would have let her be more open with my co-workers. Movie Man would have burden lifted off him. I didn't want folks to feel sorry for me. I tired for the look of 'is she going to keel over? (I still see that now) Or rush to my bedside. If things were worse, well yea. But they weren't.

I just wanted to get on with my life. Maybe that's what Star Jones wanted. To learn and get on with her new life.

Star says she grew spirituality. I second that emotion. My faith was tested. Did I have it or did I not?

When all was said and done, I realized my fear of fear itself and fear of disappointment was pointless. I knew where my strength came from.

And He didn't bring me this far to leave me.

Hope Star Jones gets that.

Sunday Sure Short

What a day! Sun out. Wind not so blowin'. Cats sleep which means I should clean.

Moving on....

Fellowshipped with Inspiring Body of Christ Church today, with Pastor Rickie Rush. I visit this church enough, I should just join. Yet, that's another post. The message was "Something is Messin' With Your Walk." Pastor Rush continued from last Sunday's message of how were are all branches of Christ. If we stay in Christ, we got it.

However, Satan (who is a liar, by the way) preys on the stuff that makes us uncomfortable. He will tell us God has nothing for us. So put no trust God. Bitterness is junk we brought with us. And when we hear from Satan, expect the opposite. Satan says, "You're gonna get laid off." Well, you better have a party, because something more grand is coming your way. Put your trust where it belongs. Look up to the Hills, see where your strength comes from. It won't be easy. And there may be some hurt along the way, yet the end result is worth the journey!

I'm not gonna get into the whole message. You had to be there. Pastor Rush used the word "upgrade" alot and it fit. Also he told a great stor how none of us could be slaves today, because our ancestors praised God all the time. There was truth and laughter in what Pastor Rush said. Still tickles me. If you were there, you'll know what I mean. If you weren't, you oughta visit IBOC sometime.

A mom with her 1 year old daughter sat beside me. The Baby Girl took to me so fast, her mom asked, "Do you have some grand babies?" I told her I had no children, yet I've become a mom and big sister to many and that's how I've been blessed. Baby Girl stayed in my arms for quite awhile. Bounced. Smiled. Laughed. A couple times, Baby Girl saw the top of my scar, from my open heart surgery, and tried to pull it off. Told her, it wasn't gonna budge, and then I whispered in her ear, "Maybe you'll be a doctor." Baby Girl's mom said she'd lost her mom just recently. And I asked her how she doing. Plus her mom watched over her this very second.

Me and my Mom-along time ago

And Bear. I've spoken about him a time or two here. Part of Pastor Rush's message included being cut and demonstrated by cutting a leaf from a plant. He said maybe we have to be cut so we can grow. I looked at Bear, who was in the choir. I wondered what he thought of Pastor Rush's words? I realized if nothing else, Bear is my Brother in Christ. Maybe that's all it was ever meant to be which in itself is everything.

So, the sun is still out. Wind still not so blowin'. Cats still snooze. Forgot about cleaning. Well, no not really. :) Got more Sunday to enjoy and Blue Bell Mocha Madness ice cream awaits for tonight!

I am blessed.

Monday Marvel

My Cousin Sussers was to be released from the hospital today. Will call her tonight just to make she's following the doctor's orders.

Saw my first robin today. I smiled. I could hear my Daddy, up in Heaven, whisper in my ear, "See your first robin, Spring is not far behind." Heard him tell me that so many years. I miss my Daddy. And I can hear him say, "You big baby." And I would respond with, "Yes I am. I'm your baby. No matter how old I get." Then Daddy would chew on his King Edward cigar.

The marvel of cleaning out litter boxes and to put trash by the curb. It's such a chore. And the one time, I really wish a man was here full time to do the trash thing. Then my mind wanders to after I had my mitral valve replacement surgery and my first full shower after. I ran out of breath just as I dried myself. I had to sit down. I about collapsed getting to the chair.

Panic. Would I always need to stop and catch my breath? For anything--even as simple as drying off?

When I mutter about the trash I should remember how it was in 2006, and how it is now.

I'll take now. Quite the Monday Marvel.

I am blessed.

February 28, 2006 was Tuesday

Remember it well. After spending all of the 27th day and night in the ER, and having a MRI or was it a CT scan?--it doesn't matter I had them both--first thing the morning of the 28th, I was taken to a 9th floor room in the hospital. "Neurology: was on a sign to welcome me. My speech was hit, miss and slurred. Once in my room, a nurse figured I'd had a stroke. She told me this as she put down my breakfast tray, gown and readied me for an IV.

Petrified.

At that point, nobody knew where I was. Looking back, I had an emergency contact. My best friend. She was not notified.

The stroke, was not really a stroke, yet a symptom of endocardities. A piece of that infection broke off and traveled to my brain. My brain burped as the Neuro Doc said, hence my speech became hit,miss and slurred.

The endocarditis damaged my mitral valve-until this adventure I had no idea we even had such a thing-so it needed to be replaced. My scar reminds me everyday.

I left the hospital on March 24, 2006

Fast forward to 2009. I'm headed to Winstar Casino in Oklahoma. To try my luck on the penny slots---yea, I live dangerously--

Some folks think I already have.

I am blessed.

What Are You Reading?

Folks know I like to read. Granted, I don’t seem to finish books in a speedy enough fashion, like, let’s say: Harry Potter V or what is IV? I didn’t finish one of them prior to the movie release, just like I am, right now with VI. I digress. Anyway, I DO like to read, and there is one story that a chapter has come to a close, VI years in the making.

Movie Man accepted the new job offer and begins on March 2nd. Granted I am so thrilled for him! And I’m honest to say, sad for me. I re-read the pages of this chapter from Movie Man and me. Some good pages, some not so good—especially the blanks ones. Those translate into the days and weeks we didn’t utter a single word to each other for whatever reason. When we fought---well, we fought. That only child, stubborn, I AM right kinda thing going on. Learned a lot during those pages—good and not so good.

Sure, we’ll still be chums. How can we not? Racquetball, Burger Island, the Boofay, movies, and even the Cheesecake Factory (and Movie Man just said “Really?” when he read that!) will still be there. I mean, who else will bust their arm carrying my basket around Half Price Books and know to find me in the Clearance Section? However, the comfort in the knowledge that other was just across a giant room, if needed, disappears.

Movie Man and I sat back to back, for pretty much close to III years. We bonded over movies and books. I was amazed (and still am) a friendship blossomed with somebody who was born III months after I graduated from high school. It wasn't easy, and even now can be a work in progress. But then good relationships are.

When my illness came on, in February 2006, Movie Man swears I left him. Maybe so. Yet I didn’t apply for somebody to do their job and crack my chest open. :) I digress. Anyway, while I was in the hospital, Movie Man came in one day and announced a job, in another department, but still on our floor, had opened up. Should he apply? By the time I came back, from my leave of absence, in May 2006, Movie Man finally landed that job. So the adjustment of not being back to back had to be smoothed out. We still had comfort in the knowledge the other was close at hand. That feeling will remain for a more days.

Waterproof mascara will be worn on the day this chapter's final words are scripted.

Comfort in the knowledge the book continues.

I am blessed.

A Day

one day closer to Movie Man leaving me. Not in a bad way. In a good way...for him. Movie Man had a good interview today. Proud of him. Know he sparkled. Happy for him, kinda yuck for me It's that whole patience thing I have to remember. It's all in His time. Not mine. That really is the kicker. I am better than I was in the past. Some folks, who read this blog may disagree. :)

Oh well.

On the bright side. I headed for my Poke today. That's what I call my Coumadin check-due to having the mechanical mitral valve in my heart. I tick. Did you know? When it's real quiet, you can hear me. Anyhoo, the Coumadin check is to see if my blood is too thick or too thin. Vitamin K affects Coumadin aka green stuff like broccoli or spinach. Today I was right in the middle of my range. 3.0. So I don't have to go back for another month. Glad. Through this whole ordeal, I've not had one major setback. Very Glad.

And since we're in February, it's when I start to reflect how my life changed in February 2006, February 27 to be exact. The day paramedics carted me to the ER. I spent all day and all night, and nobody knew where I was. Left the hospital on March 24, 2006--scar and all. Movie Man picked me up. Took me to Wal-mart so I could buy groceries. I drove that little cart and ran over everybody. I digress, plus I was scared to even THINK about spinach or broccoli, cause the nutritionist told me 'avoid it at all costs' because of the Coumadin. I didn't buy any that day.

Took me six months to finally get OVER that. Brings me today. I'm consistent in my Vitamin K eating. Don't think twice. Your body needs em. Just need to be consistent. Today, I'm in my range. Feel good. Cardiologist says, my valve works great, my heart itself works great, and she knows all is well with me. Even tho Movie Man might leave me, that's OK--it's time for him to move on. He'll just owe me a burger at the best burger place in Dallas: Burger Island! :)

On this day I'm very, very glad.

Monday Medicine

Got POKED today. That's what I call my Coumadin check aka INR. Because of the possibility of clots forming around my mechanical mitral heart valve, I pop Coumadin everyday. And let me just say this up front: I HATE to pop pills of ANY kind. Even while in the hospital, for my surgery--one of the nurses said, "Don't be so brave!" Which meant I wasn't asking for many painkillers. The pain I felt was more of an annoyance than anything else. Having the the breastbone heal can be an impatient kind of thing. The day I could finally sleep on my side, I almost ordered up a parade--and that was still some weeks after surgery.

So back to this pill thing. I HATE it. I don't want to take Coumadin or anything else I'm prescribed. My blood pressure pill, for instance, looks like something only my friend Flicka would get down easily. To pop a pill, to me, is to admit there's something wrong. Kind of a pisser really. Something I've had to work on mentally.

And had to learn how to feel good about eating Vitamin K, which effects Coumadin. We're talking green leafy vegggies here: spinach, broccoli. The more you eat of Vitamin K, the blood clots. Consistency is the name of the game. Guess you could call me a poster child. Unless,something else comes along, Coumadin and I are bonded together forever.

Oh well.

This little thing called "life" keeps me grounded. I realize I will do what I need to do to keep truckin. Sure, there's some side effects. Minor ones in my thoughts. I've had a few--fatigue for one, yet a small price to pay for a glassful of Life. And besides, there are cats to pet and Blue Ice Cream to savor. I can deal with what I gotta do, in spite of not feelin' a whole lotta love for the meds.

I am blessed.

Reality in the Movies

Today Movie Man and I saw our first moving picture show of 2009: Clint "Make My Day" Eastwood in Gran Torino. Nobody else could make this movie work but Dirty Hairy. Yes, Clint was a salty 'ol dog. But I tell you what, he's the Best in Show of salty ol' dogs, and young ones too. With every actor in the film, including Clint's own son Scott Eastwood, I wondered if they thought, "Wow! I'm in a movie with Clint Eastwood!" Heck, I would. A definite thumbs up from me. Clint just can do it all. I told Movie Man I want to go back and watch The Good, The Bad and the Ugly, because when I saw it back in the Triassic Period, I really didn't pay much of attention. Clint is a class all by himself.

Last night, on of one of these 200 and some channel I have, there was 1998's Parent Trap with cuteness of Lindsay Lohan playing the twins. I was bummed because she'd left my soap, "Another World" to do movies. Anyway, as I watched this movie, I remembered my hospital stay. It was after my open-heart surgery and I still recovered in my hospital bed. Unfortunately the movie came on at time, and my stamina wasn't too strong. I somehow made it to the end. Last night I made it to the end too, this time with a cat curled by me.

And the reality of life brings this all home: the death of John Travolta's 16 yr old son, Jett. I am so stunned. Whenever John was on any show he beamed as talked about his kids. His family was/is his world and them some. I cannot imagine the loss his family feels. My prayers go out to them.

Sometimes the make believe of movies eases the pain.

And Now It Begins

The New Year....2009! It's two hours and fifteen minutes old. I came home starved, but I had to do something first before I could munch. Went outside, looked up to the stars and gave my thanks. Expressed my confidence to be able to handle whatever He decides. To test me and my character on the path to blessings. For the past few years, I'd done this ritual on my apartment balcony and just pray nobody would do a drive-by as an extra firework for the New Years! This year was different. I was out in my own backyard. Sat on the bench, where Movie Man had bees buzz around his bald head this past Spring. On my balcony in 2006, I told God I knew something was coming and felt it could be handled. Three months later I had to decide if a little open-heart surgery would keep me down or if I would just rest, get up and live life. This year, as my buns froze on that cold bench, I told Him let's write this next chapter. Then I came in and ate a bowl of Total Raisin Bran instead of the fudge I craved. *Sigh*

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Tuesday Heart and Times...

Got POKED today.

Hold on.

That’s the name I gave to my blood being checked/monitored. To prevent the form of clots around my mechanical mitral valve, coumadin (also known as warafin) is part of my daily regimen. True, this stuff was originally peddled as rat poison, yet was approved for medical use in the early 1950’s. It appeared to be effective and relatively safe in prevention of thrombosis and embolisms, (abnormal formation and migration of blood clots). I must have my blood checked every so often to make sure it’s not too thin or too thick—‘in the range’ of 2.5 to 3.5. Today 2.8. Happy Day—because I don’t go back for another month.

The POKE is really called my INR (international normalized ratio). It ensures I’m taking the proper daily dosage. It’s conducted pretty much the same way as if you’re checking your sugar level. My finger gets POKED (aha!), a drop or two of blood is put on a strip, which is then inserted into a little tester machine. A couple minutes worth of wait and chat with the nurse—then your INR number pops on the little tester machine’s face. The higher the number the thinner the blood, the lower means thicker. Once my INR was 1.4 and panic ensued. I had to give myself 3 days of shots of another drug (the name fails me-sorry)to aid the coumadin. Because of my blood’s thickness, it was feared clots would form. Thankfully, they didn’t.

Coumadin’s effectiveness is mainly due to the amount of vitamin K (green leafy veggies, like spinach) eaten. While I x’d off days in the hospital and wondered when I could finally leave, I was told to avoid spinach and broccoli from here on in. I could dally in iceberg—to a degree. I informed the nutritionist it’d taken me 20 years to like spinach, and now I couldn’t have any? Avoid it, she said. Even on the papers for the rules and regulation for recovery, there was a picture of spinach with a line drawn through it. I panicked.

Scared to eat anything green. If I did—once a week—maybe. I thought my mechanical valve would squeak if I did. The sure squeak would go along with with its tick tick tick (I do tick, ask Movie Man). On that 1.4 INR day, the folks at my doctor’s office reassured me they could regulate me if I ate green—in fact my body NEEDED green. Until then, sometimes every three days, I would have to get my blood checked. I wasn’t even close to being ‘in the range.’ Nurses tried to tell me, “just be consistent.” Then as I waited for these shots at the pharmacy, I asked the pharmacist.

He repeated, “just be consistent.” I groaned. Told him I was tired of hearing that and just what exactly did it mean? Well, he said, if you eat three salads a week, you eat three salads every week. Not one here, or one there, but three. Otherwise my blood would spike, and that’s not good either. He assured I could be regulated. I don’t know why my 100 watt bulb finally, since these words had been repeated over and over--yet my own “AHA!’ moment.

That night I bought a bag of all ready made tossed salad made with iceberg lettuce. I was giddy enough you swore I carried a blue box from Tiffany’s. I wiped sweat from my brow as the loaded fork entered mouth. What would happen?

Nothing.

As days went by, I dared myself to add a few spinach leaves to my ready made tossed iceberg salad. I fretted the next time I went for the INR. When the little tester machine showed me smack dab where I needed to be, I smiled so bright I blinded myself and the nurse. Being ‘in the range’ began to happen more often. Also the longer I stayed ‘in the range’, the longer I could stay away before another POKE. The longest time allowed was six weeks—and I made it!

I’ve had a couple slips, just minor—yet I’ve become such a poster child on coumadin and Vitamin K. I know when to adjust and realized it’s just a part of my daily routine. For now, for always. These days, I have five salad days—really salad nights, plus my daily lunch mixed veggies. All about being consistent.

My Heart Doc says she likes how I just keep on truckin as if nothing happened. Until something comes along to remind me. Like my scar itches or then I need to get POKED. Tablespoons of inconvenience, those are.

OK, so I take something that can rid us of rodents—so what? This stuff helps to rid me of another hospital stay. I can handle a poison like that.

He didn’t bring me this far to leave me.