swim beyond the imagery

Healing 1986, guide healing 2008

22 years ago, I was working behind my home.

It was in late June as I recall, and a rather warm Sunday. Several days before, I had driven to Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston in order to donate platelets to the son of T's employer, who was suffering from aplastic anemia.

Upon doing a preliminary check prior to donating, I was informed they could not allow me to donate. "You need to see your doctor as soon as possible." The doctor explained why "you have an irregular heartbeat."   Now that was a bit unnerving.

So I call a doctor. He gives me a Halter monitor to wear for 24 hours. I do, and return it to the doctor. That was Thursday. Three days later, I'm digging out the slope behind the house, which sets upon a hill. I'm doing this in order to create a level area for a future patio or some such creation. As I dig it out, a stone wall is also created to hold the part being filled.

As I worked, my chest began to hurt. I'm 5 days from this warning, 3 days from the Halter. I'm scared silly. We call the doctor, who informs us to get to the hospital in Nashua (40 minutes away) immediately. We go.

I walk into ER, tell them what is going on, and they immediately react in terms of a possible cardiac issue. In no time, I'm in a bed, hooked to machines, and... seeing the lines jump all over the place. "Yup, you've got something going on" a nurse muses. Open that sky door, I'm coming!

They run a blood test for enzyme evidence of a heart attack. They admit me. I'm moved to intensive care. I'm 31 years old. The monitor is unnerving, because each skipped beat is bothersome. If I lie still, it calms, if I start moving or stressing, badoop. Great.

My doc shows and tells me what will be happening going forward. Monday finds me undergoing various examinations through technological means. At some point in the day, the doc outlines where we are. "You haven't had a heart attack. I suspect you have an issue in the valves of your heart. He explains... sometimes the valve doesn't shut properly, and it leaks. This leaking can be heard - the murmur your family doctor told you about as a child. (My sister has this issue, and I know maybe a smidgeon about this.) If so, then we'll run a scan after you do the treadmill. A radioactive dye will be injected into you, and we'll trace it after you come off the treadmill." This will be done the next day. I'm relieved, more accurately... hopeful.

Relatives are all over the place. Two years before, my daughter was here - being born.

The next day, the test is run, and it is confirmed, but there is delay. I'm released on Thursday. I run into another doc, apparently an associate, who casts doubt on the diagnosis. I don't recall the words, but the way he said it left me with the impression he disagreed with my doctor. And it is this which leaves me spooked at length.

It impacts everything I do, most especially diet. Fatty foods are toast for me. Whole milk is gone. I'm a royal pain in the arse, diet wise.

And it pretty much stayed this way all through the 1990s, and into the new millennium, though with some moderation. And then came my  other meltdown, end of a relationship, moving out...

and a casting to the wind of any dietary caution.

In 2003, my cholesterol level was 149.

Two days ago, my endocrinologist sent me an update on my hormone levels. With it came a warning to contact my physician. Your cholesterol level is 259. Your bad cholesterol level is elevated. Your good cholesterol level is in normal range. He recommends medicating.

I really don't wish to medicate. So I wrote to my primary care physician, yet to receive a response, and outlined the issue. With it came my plan. I'm returning to my dietary methodology prior to meltdown, with some improvement and some room for creativity in food preparation. I intend to take this out through diet - providing my doctor approves, or lets me give it a try.

I'm not spooked, I'm disappointed in myself for getting so haphazard about this. I'm resolved. Past experience tells me I will do this, my inner self tells me I will stick to it. And I will make use of Reiki to keep me focused on my goal.

Hala-kahiki

The beginnings of this ramble came a few days ago, when it occurred to me that there is one fruit existing in this world which approaches the level of edible reverence that chocolate enjoys with me.

Is it awkward to admit I almost drooled at the very thought of enjoying a slice or two of this tropical wonder?

Well... geesh, some might think this whole thread is but analogy for sidling up to a partner with both uncovered, but no... I'm sufficiently simple for this to really be about a fruit, and not call intimacy by sort of a fruit euphemism.

The thought also occurred that a noble fruit should have it's own distinct name. I think of how the poor overworked potato is called pomme de terre in French. Come on... can't ya give a potato a name other than 'apple of the earth?'

And so it is with the fruit of my choice, where it's English name also borrows and uses 'apple' and, because of it's thorny hide, gets 'pine' as a prefix, to reform both words into 'pineapple.'

Although the fruit is not native to Hawaii, it is sufficiently associated with the Islands as to deserve moving towards a Hawaiian name. A bit of googling, and... hala-hakiki was the title of my post. Now if it turns out hala-kahiki means 'fuck off' in Hawaiian, my apologies, and I will gladly provide the internet locale of the translation site.

Anyway, praise be the hala-kahaki! Admit it... wouldn't you love to slice into a fresh one about now? And if you happen to enjoy the comforts a partner brings... perhaps some hala-kahaki as accompaniment to more restful and or playful locales might be worth the run to a supermarket.

For me? I have to eat mine the old fashioned way.

Grocery shopping

I've done a fair share of this over the years, especially during my sahp days, where it was nothing to be in a supermarket with child or children, depending on who was visiting my daughter on that particular day. Visitations, and at kindergarten age onward, sleepovers.

I like to wander grocery stores, but tend to do so at a brisk pace. If I bring my mom shopping, by necessity shopping is at a far slower pace. There is also a divergence in where our tastes lie, for me... less meat, more veggies, more spice, more hot. Mom, more meat, less hot, though she loves onions, and well, those of you who know me, know onions and moi are not compatible. A nice, hot jalepeno will suit me just fine.

I write this in anticipation, out of procrastination, because for some reason I'm reluctant this morning to head out the door. There isn't much to shop for today, just necessities, so it should not take long, but...

perhaps thoughts of some salsa, tortilla chips, and sour cream will tantalise me to wander out the door. Mebbe a passage through the bakery, taking in those wonderful bakery smells. Fresh bread? Um, carbohydrates? Fresh bread, carbohydrates, fresh bread, carbohydrates... fresh bread, mmmmmm.

So if you will excuse me, there are vegetables awaiting my arrival.