Up and down.

The last couple of days have been up and down. I've not been feeling well at all. My heart's been flip-flopping, for lack of a better description. My blood pressure has gotten as low as 83/46. Last night my heart rate dropped to 39. This morning, I woke up with a heart rate of 174. That was not a pleasant experience.
I managed to get a lot done today, in spite of all of my strange health occurrences - thanks to my sister. I saw my primary care physician and had some blood work done. He suggested I contact my cardiologist at UNC. I called and left a message. We went to our local Social Security office and straightened out some issues there. We then went to Social Services with a letter from Social Security informing them of my acceptance. According to the lady at the Social Security office, my acceptance there guarantees my acceptance with Medicare. We'll see. All in all we covered 3 counties.
But, hey, when I got home, there was a check in the mail! My first Social Security money. Thank you Jeebus! (I'm thrilled, even though they extracted $1000 for my lawyer...) I've had this notion in my head, for a while, that I might die before receiving any assistance. Guess I was wrong.
Still not feeling well. I'm gonna turn in soon.

Good news.

Quite a bit has happened in recent months. I have a new pacemaker device, I'm on new medication, I met an 18 year old boy who may be my son, and I've been corresponding with his mother (we lived together in the early 90s).
In the last week, I turned 51 - AND I finally got some positive news about my Social Security Disability appeal: I have been accepted!
My sisters came up with the idea to contact our congressman to see if he could help expedite things, in any way. Within days, I received a phone call telling me that there was a positive response to my claim. Whether this was a coincidence or not, I don't know. I wrote him a letter thanking him for any actions he may have taken on my behalf.
I can't get excited until I see some money (sometime in October), but I can finally see a light at the end of a long, black tunnel. Sure, I'll have to learn to live off of half of what I was making while working, but considering the state I've been in over the last year, it's a giant leap forward.
My health? It's been a bit bumpy. The changes in my meds are playing a part in this, I'm sure. And the new device may need some tweaking. I'll find out when I visit UNC in a couple of months. I'm just glad that I've gotten the procedure out of the way - and that it all went smoothly.
I complain a lot on here, I guess - and that's ok, because it's cathartic. Part of the reason for creating this blog was to have a release valve. It HAS been an extremely trying period of my life (and I'm sure there's more to come). As always, though, I want to document the times when good comes to the fore. I've had some good lately and I'm thankful.
I'm just happy to be here.

"You had to blog about it."

By Mary Nadler.

 

"Mortal " voice over 9.

I am not a religious person. I didn't come to this conclusion - this place - without due consideration. I have been struggling with the big questions since I was 12 or 13 years old. Here's what I do believe, however:
I believe in the golden rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I believe in karma. What you reap is what you sow. Whatever you put out in the universe is gonna visit you. What goes 'round, comes 'round.
Doesn't that make sense? Why do we need heaven when all we have to do is treat people the way we'd like to be treated? Let's have a little heaven now - here on earth, in the only existence we can be sure of.

"Mortal " voice over 8.

There have been some occurrences, in the last few years, that have slammed me face to face with my mortality. Maybe this happens to everyone as they get older - but it sure feels personal. All I can say is I now have a profound appreciation of life and death. Life is SO precious - and death is constantly lurking, ready to strike in an instant, rendering everything you were, everything you are, everything you hope to be or accomplish - moot.
Is it any wonder people cling to love?

"Mortal " voice over 7.

I love the line from The Velvet Underground's "Venus in Furs" that says, "I am tired, I am weary. I could sleep for a thousand years." I understand that world weariness. I feel that way, sometimes - like I could take a millennium nap. Well, as I always say, "Sleep is the new sex."

"Mortal " voice over 6.

I'm a pretty serious person, but I do have a sense of humor. It may be subtle, it may be dark, but it exists. Take the time to get to know me and maybe you'll be able to detect it. Sure, it's bittersweet. There's a sadness behind a lot of it, but I do have the ability to find something to smile about in the human experience. I think that's a necessary tool for survival.

"Mortal " voice over 5.

I have within me, it seems, the ability to kill undying love. The proof is in my cache of old love letters, which are full of such sentiments as, "Nothing will ever change my love for you" and "I will love you forever." These letters were written by MANY different people. They all said that I, at some point, meant everything to them. But, not any more, of course - due to my peculiarly particular aforementioned power: The ability to kill undying love.
What a responsibility to wield such a weapon.

"Mortal " voice over 4.

When I was in my late 20s and early 30s, I was on fire. Inspiration was pouring like rain. Creativity was flooding me. I felt like a shaman. Really. It was like I was receiving messages from god that I was obliged to share with the world. I was overflowing with poetry and music. It just kept coming. Often, I felt as if I could not take credit for what was being produced - it came fully formed, like Athena emerging from the skull of Zeus, screaming a war cry. ART!! The fact that no one else was interested didn't matter. It was in me and it had to come out.

"Mortal " voice over 3.

I never finished high school. I got a GED. I was smart in school and had been enrolled in college prep classes, but I had no one in my court. No one encouraged me. I never went to college.
I got married at 20. I was divorced at 28. I threw myself into the club scene, sex, drugs, alcohol and rock and roll. Lots of everything. I ignored my health. I'm paying for that now.
The late blues man (Fat Possum recording artist) Junior Kimbrough had a song called, "Most Things Haven't Worked Out." That would be a great personal summation. Most things HAVEN'T worked out. Maybe, most things never work out. I dunno...

"Mortal " voice over 2.

I was practically an only child. My brother and sisters were so much older than me that I barely remember any of them living at home. Because I was alone so much, I developed a vivid imagination. I had 3 imaginary friends: Bam-Bam, Sootsie and Caca. When I was older, a friend explained to me what the word Caca meant. It figures. I was so naive.
Often, I would ask my mom if I was adopted. I even had dreams that I was. I just didn't fit in. Whenever my imagination would rear it's brightly plumed head, I would be hushed, knocked down, made to feel ashamed. Is it any wonder that I spent so much of my later life in a self-destructive rebellion?

"Mortal " voice over 1.

I was born poor, into a poor family. My parents grew up during the Great Depression and never managed to climb out of that abyss. As a child, you don't realize that you're poor, that you have nothing. It's just the way life is. As you get older, though, you venture out into the world and see what you're missing. I guess I never made it out of the Great Depression either, even though I was born 30 years later. It's funny, the things that shape you, mold you and sometimes cast you in stone. Theoretically, I could have gone in a myriad of directions - but, at this point in my life, it feels as if my fate was sealed. (And I don't even believe in fate...)

10 years.

It's hard to believe it's been 10 years since those planes crashed on 9/11/2001. I was working on a golf course. I was with some co-workers, on the 18th hole, when someone pulled up, in a cart, and said for us to go to the club house - something was happening. We stood in front of the TV, by the bar, and watched. No one seemed to really know what was occurring. We couldn't believe our eyes.
Today, on TV, I watched some of the commemoration ceremony at ground zero - the reading of the names of the fallen. It went on and on. So many people.
Everyone still seems to be grappling with 9/11. What? How? Who? Why? Meanwhile, religious intolerance runs rampant throughout the world. I won't get into that, other than to say that we are all in this together. We're on the same small planet, hurtling through space. If we could just show each other (if not love) a little respect, then maybe our experience here would be a little more pleasant. And a lot less deadly.

AKA Scooter.

His name is Scooter - but he has many nick-names:

Scooterini Alphonso Del Vecchio Vespoochie (Why he has an Italian name, I don't know...)
Scootaceous D.
Scoo
Cooters (taking the S off the front and placing it on the end), which leads to
"Mr. Cooters..." (Sung to the tune of "Mr. Crowley" by Ozzie.)
Coot
Jackson
Jackson Brown
Jack Rabbit Slim
Scooter Eugene
Scooter Ray
Buckwheat Zydeco
Buckshot Le Funk
Monsieur Dookie Head
Boogity Boo
ARRRGGGHHHHH! (As in, "ARRRGGGHHHHH, why did you do that?! I'm gonna twist your little head off!!")
And so on.

 

My home away from home. (Life on 3 Anderson.)

My first roommates, while I was in the hospital, were an older couple from Clinton, NC. He was the patient and she slept on a chair by his bed. Sounds sweet, right? They argued the whole time they were there. He complained about everything. He complained about his beverage and asked the nurse if they had any Cokes. The nurse said he would try to round him up a Coke. My neighbor said, "Bring me 4 dem."
I started taking notes towards the end of their stay. I wish I had started earlier. Here's an example of how this couple spoke:

"Wot jaw durrin?"
"Where dem at?"
"I don't like two cent milk. Two cent milk taste like water."
"She should ashed him hersef."
"See will he gib you $35."
"Get in dat bay-ed and wait fo dat nurse."
"When I woke up diz morn..."
"Kevin ain't got no TV! Dat my TV. I reprofess dat TV."
"Some medicines I been takin' I ain't be takin' no mo."
"Dat dey gray pe-ill?"
"My phone be day-ed."
"Y'all gimme dat?"
"Aight. Ahmo be downstays."
"I did too said ahmo use it!"
"Den he got go get..."
"Dey down to da chirren hoss-pe-ill."
"We's in 3719. Third flo."
"Here dat pitcher o' Rodney. Don't want jer pitcher?"
"Get up your ass off dat TV!"
And the old guys favorite expression:
"Sheee-it!"

They finally checked out and I had a peaceful night by myself.
The next day, a new guy moved in. He was from Zebulon (I love the name of that town). The doctor went through the long list of questions they ask a new patient. When he got to the one about drug use, the guy said, "Absolutely not. I worked 45 years in law enforcement." The doctor told him, and his wife, that he had a minor heart problem causing him to retain fluids. He went over some treatment ideas and told him not to worry. After the doctor left, his wife said she was going home and would be back in the morning. Later that night, however, after he had taken a test of some sort, the doctor came back in and told him that he wasn't 100% sure, but it looked as if he had something serious, rare and untreatable. He asked my new neighbor if he would like him to call his wife and talk to her. He said no. He would tell her in the morning. He was worried and alone.
I talked to him a bit before I was discharged. I'm not very good in these situations, but my heart went out to him. I gave it my best shot. I told him to wait and see if the diagnosis was confirmed. I told him he couldn't be in a better hospital. I couldn't think of much else to say.
I've had several of these kinds of encounters over the years, and they haunt me.

My heart.

I left home, at 3 am Wednesday, August 31, to make my 6:30 appointment at Chapel Hill hospital. Upon arrival, I registered, had blood drawn, and was taken to a mobile operating room - outside the hospital. It was the strangest thing. My family thought I was pretty drugged up (well, I was) when I was wheeled into my room after the procedure, and told them that I had been outside.
I'm now the proud owner of a St. Jude Cardiac Resynchronization Therapy Defibrillator, model number CD3231-40. My cardiologist said it was the Cadillac of CRT-Ds. Or maybe the Ferrari, he said. I prefer Ferrari. Installing this device required 2 additional leads in my heart - one in the top and one around the back. I have a total of 3 leads now, allowing total heart monitoring and synchronization of EVERY heart beat.
I have been taken off of the drug Amiodarone and placed back on Sotalol. This is a good thing. Because of the Sotalol "loading," I had to remain in the hospital for 3 days, for monitoring. I came through ok and was released late Friday night.
I have been doing ok, except for the usual soreness and the HORRIBLE dreams that Sotalol causes. Because this is my 3rd device - my second in the last 6 months - I know the routine: No raising of my left arm above my shoulder for several weeks, no lifting of anything over 5 pounds (try this...), no pushing of lawn mowers or vacuum cleaners, keep the incision area clean and dry, etc.
Thanks to Dr. Chung, the nurses and the rest of the staff at UNC, and my family, for everything they've done for me. I'm happy to be able to report in to TBOGL. I'm happy to be alive.
Sorry 'bout the pic...