life, love,art. heart failure and assorted ramblings

life, love,art. heart failure and assorted ramblings

Don't Talk Like That...

I write to find out what my heart thinks....

I write to expose and work through the ugly parts of this raunchy disease. My words always help me understand that in this life there will be times that are crappy painful and unexpected but tucked in there are the amazingly wonderful, too. That is when I realized the only control I have over any of this is how I chose to experience them! I realized that I could understand, celebrate can survive even better when I could express these feelings with my own words of courage, humor, and grace. I am the Queen of my own life and the choice is mine!

I am here to celebrate my life, to uncover my fears, to hold on to love, to grieve my losses, to laugh long and hard, and to learn how to live a full magnificent life with heart failure.

I am honoring my creativity, and exploring all of my emotions out loud ...before anyone can say....."Don't talk like that!"



Saturday, March 12, 2011

How Are You Feeling?

How are you feeling?
More than a couple of people ask me that everyday and that is the reason I write…

I typically answer, fine but today I surprised myself and stopped. Today it was a tougher question. I wanted to say fine, because in a comparative way, I am. I truly have few complaints, but today I stopped short of fine because I am not. I have terminal heart failure, and although extremely grateful for my good days and all of the great health I have enjoyed I know what bubbles underneath is just like lava below the surface of my thin crusted well-being. So, I answer fine, even when it is not.

I am out of breath, swollen and tired all of the time. These are the parts of this disease that have become a part of my everyday life. Sometimes my chest hurts and is so heavy I think I am going to implode, but am afraid I can't tell the difference between my paranoid imagination and serious disease symptoms anymore. Then I wonder, does it really matter. It's terminal heart failure, it’s pointless to worry. And even though I don’t want to worry, I will worry just the same. Go figure @$%*@

I don’t know what condition my heart is in, because I don’t want to know, I'll only worry. Better or worse, good or bad, functioning at maximum capacity or not, I don’t want to know any more. I don't want any more degrading, toxic, invasive, nuclear exams that doctors deal out like a cheap deck of cards. Besides, a walk to the end of the block and a couple of glasses of pinot grigio and I can produce the same results as the high priced atom smashing machines. (There is a reason for those lead aprons!) Quite frankly, I’d rather get smashed by the pinot, then I'll send them my results and a bill.

Why do I need to know all of this information, I’m not sure I should…no, scratch that, I do NOT want to know. If God wanted me to have access to all of that information, I’d have a daily paper read-out spew from a bodily orifice somewhere.

So, instead of feeling sick, waiting for them to run tests to tell me I am not getting better or feeling well, waiting for them to tell I am still sick, I have decided to just be. I have discovered, without the aid of the medical industry, that the best way to feel better when I feel like crap is to force myself to get up and just create something. That’s one of the reasons I paint, draw and write this blog.

Now… who wants another pinot?

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