Monthly Archives: April 2015

Day 830: Keeping track

Posted on April 10, 2015 by Ann Koplow

When I do my “Coping and Healing” therapy groups at work (and I did two of those yesterday), we keep track of the themes that track throughout  the group discussion.

Here are a few of those, from last night’s group:

If you are keeping track of my blog posts, you might know there are certain aspects of Boston weather that derail me, like

  • how long the winters last,
  • how much snow we get (especially this year), and
  • how agonizingly beautiful and short the spring — my favorite season — seems, especially in comparison to the agonizing-for-other-reasons winters.

Last year, I went off track during spring — for over a month — because I got pneumonia.

This year, I’ll be going off track during spring — for a week, my doctors think — because I’ll be getting surgery, which we hope will keep my heart on track for a good while.

I’ve obviously taken a track, here, away from the group themes I showed you above.

Or have I?

No matter what track we’re on right now, did you lose track of that first item shown above on my group white board ?

If you keep track of Passover, you’ll know that hail is one of the 10 plagues visited upon the ancient Egyptians, convincing them to release its Hebrew inhabitants from slavery.

This week, hail was visited upon the modern Bostonians, which did NOT release its inhabitants from the slavery of unseasonably cold and miserable weather. Indeed, if you kept track of my post yesterday, you might have seen this:

Because I keep track of my thoughts (if not my photos ) I can tell you what I was thinking when I snapped that picture:

All these birds are beautiful and IT’S FRIGGIN’ HAILING ON APRIL 8.

Ever since my heart went into atrial fibrillation in the fall of 2013, my doctors have been asking me to keep track of my weight, every day. They want to keep track of me, in case I start going in to heart failure.

I resisted keeping track that way, until this week. After all, who wants to keep track of:

  • their weight, especially if they aren’t on the same weight track they were on when they were young and/or
  • any kind of failure?

As oft happens,  I’m not sure what kind of track I’m on there. That weight gain could mean

  • Indications of heart failure and/or
  • too much fried matzo and matzo ball soup.

I guess I’ll call my doctors so we can keep on keeping track of things, together.

In case you want to keep track of what’s going on under those numbers, here it is:

Yes, it’s a stool that looks like a jellyfish.

Years ago, when I was keeping track of my son Aaron’s Halloween costumes, I posted this 2007 video on YouTube:

Lest you think I’ve totally lost track here, that video shows Aaron in a jellyfish costume I made for him, when I temporarily lost track of my usual belief that I cannot make good costumes.

Because I’m also keeping track of the time this morning, here’s a well-enough-on-track tune for you all.

That’s “Doctor My Eyes” by Jackson Browne, keeping track on YouTube.

Many thanks to all who helped me create this post and to you — of course! — for keeping track of me, today.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , | 45 Comments

Day 829: How to let go of fear

Posted on April 9, 2015 by Ann Koplow

I noticed that I woke up this morning with a few fears.

American President Franklin Delano Roosevelt said, in his first inauguration speech on March 3, 1933:

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.

I fear that might not be the ONLY thing we have to fear, since there’s so much

  • confusion,
  • pain,
  • injustice,
  • sickness,
  • cruelty, and
  • other misfortunes, all around us.

I have no fear, however, that FDR had something very important to tell us, because if we

  • fear our own fears,
  • are anxious about our anxieties,
  • get depressed about our depressions,
  • become sick about our sicknesses

… we multiply our pain, which can become overwhelming and paralyzing.

So how do we let go of fear, which I fear I’ve promised some practical solutions about, today?

I fear that fear can become overwhelming if we don’t name it.

I have already named that I have some fears today. I can now face some fears, one by one.

Fear du Jour #1: I fear I will say the wrong thing to a vulnerable, fearful person today, at work.

I am glad I’ve named that fear. By expressing that here and now, I can now remember that

  • I’ve encountered that kind of situation at work before and
  • I’ve dealt with it, well enough.

Voila! I let go of that fear or — at least — reduced it to a manageable size.

That was easier than I expected. I fear that my next fear might be harder to let go.

Let’s deal with that fear about fear immediately, shall we?

Fear du Jour #2: I fear that friggin’ Federal Express will not deliver my tickets to see Todd Rundgren in concert, without more unnecessary suffering for me.

I am glad I named that fear, too, because, at least, I got to tell my loyal blog readers that I am quite annoyed with Federal Express. I fear if I get started, this post will turn into

Day 829: Why Federal Express SUCKS

which would be fun for me but, I fear, not particularly  helpful for you.

I fear, however, that  I must show you this delivery I found from Federal Express, yesterday:

Any fears about that? Here are my fears:

  • They won’t let me sign for the package, allowing them to leave the tickets in a future delivery,
  • I have to go to friggin’ Needham Massachusetts if I want to pick up my tickets, which is fearfully far away from here,
  • Wait! I have to go to friggin’ Neeham, Massachusetts to pick them up, which doesn’t even exist,
  • When I tried to control my destiny last night by choosing a reasonable time for the next attempted ticket delivery when somebody who lives here might actually hear the friggin’ doorbell, the friggin’ fedex website asked me some fearfully private questions  to confirm the friggin’ delivery,  as if there is something to fear about ME GETTING MY OWN TICKETS,
  • The website didn’t work, I fear,
  • The nice Federal Express guy I reached on the phone last night told me he feared there was nothing he could do to set the delivery time I wanted, and
  • There’s a big VOID on that door ticket, which reminds me of the existential void we all fear as human beings.

I fear I may be fearing Federal Express too much.

However, I feel better.

Fear du Jour #3: The surgery I’m getting the day after the Todd Rundgren concert might not help my very unusual heart enough, which might necessitate future fear-inducing surgery like a heart valve replacement or, more likely, an eventual heart transplant.

Hey! Who wouldn’t fear something like that?

However, as with the other fears, naming that fear helped me. Now I know I have a right to have my fear (as we always have the right to feel our own feelings).

And, I realize that fear is about the future, which I cannot really know or control.

I hope you do not fear questions from me, because I have two more, now:

 Are all fears future-oriented? Since we cannot know or control the future, why not let go of fear, as best we can?

Fear du Jour #4: The photos I took yesterday will not match the topic of today’s post.

Again, I feel better now that I named that fear. I shall now let go of that fear even further, by sharing these photos:

                

                

  

Anything to fear, there?

Just one more photo, I fear:

I fear that somebody might quickly read that as EXPEAT, by mistake.

In case you fear saying anything at all,  below, remember this:

Did you fear I forgot to include some music about fear?

Never fear:

Do not fear that “Don’t Fear the Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult or “Don’t be Afraid of the Dark” by Robert Cray aren’t available elsewhere, if you don’t see them here. They’re both on YouTube, fearlessly.

Thanks to all who helped me create this fear-ful post and special thanks to you (no matter how much fear or what kinds of fears you’ve experienced, so far,  in your precious life).

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , | 47 Comments

Day 828: I noticed

Posted on April 8, 2015 by Ann Koplow

You may have noticed that my posts often include what I’ve noticed the day before.

You will notice that this post is no exception.

Yesterday, on my drive to work, I noticed this license plate I had noticed once before in a different part of Boston:

If you’ve noticed my past blog posts, that “AUTO” license plate has appeared  — noticeably and obviously — in a previous post, Day 767: Obvious.

I noticed much more, besides that auto license plate, yesterday:

            

  

I am wondering what you noticed in those photos. I noticed, among other things, (1) a budding notice of spring on trees and (2) matzo farfel muffins.

Notice how educational my blog is?

Here’s something else I noticed yesterday:

I’ve noticed that looking younger IS an issue (1) in our culture and (2) for several of my older therapy patients.

Soon after I noticed that magazine cover at work, I noticed an inter-office envelope in my mailbox. I noticed this, inside:

I didn’t notice anybody delivering that noticeably delicious gift to my mailbox and I also didn’t notice how long it was sitting in my mailbox before I it noticed yesterday.

Ever notice how people eat chocolate bunnies?

That bunny got noticeably smaller, noticeably quickly.

Can you notice the difference between these two dinner plates, one for me and one for my 17-year-old son Aaron?

My boyfriend Michael has noticed there are some vegetables Aaron doesn’t like and has acted accordingly.

One more image I trusted myself to notice yesterday:

If you wanted somebody to notice you, what might you say?

You — and Todd Rundgren — might get noticed by others if you say “Hello, It’s Me.”

I couldn’t help but notice that Todd Rundgren sings yet another song I love,  during that live performance on YouTube.

On May 3, I hope to notice Todd Rundgren singing both “Hello, It’s Me” and “Can We Still Be Friends” at Boston’s Wilbur Theater.

Notice I haven’t asked you to leave a comment. Yet.  

How do you like to be noticed?  What in particular are you noticing, here and now?

Noticing and notable thanks to all those who helped me create this (I trust) noticeable post today, including you!

Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 35 Comments

Day 827: Stumped

Posted on April 7, 2015 by Ann Koplow

Is anybody stumped about how I manage to blog here day after day, season after season, through sickness and health?

I’m not stumped about that, but I am stumped about why there is so much snow still around, during the second week of April in my hometown city of Boston.  After months and months, this finally reappeared, yesterday morning:

That’s the stump of our tree, out back.

Have I been stumped by any thing else, recently? I am quite easily stumped, it seems.

Why has it taken me so many years to figure out how to make fried matzo that’s almost as good as my mother’s?

Why are there only three players on my 2015 Boston Red Sox, when I could have sworn they need nine players on the field, this Opening Day?

I’ve also been stumped about why I’ve been seeing Coca-Cola everywhere, lately:

If I hadn’t told you what kind of truck that was, would you have been stumped by that photo?

I am stumped by this new Kids Concourse at Fenway Park. If my sister Ellen reads this post, she’ll probably un-stump me, since she knows all the latest about baseball, the Red Sox, and Fenway.

I am stumped by what that bench is doing at that construction site.

People can really stump themselves with unhelpful negative thoughts. In case you are stumped by that last photo, yesterday at work I invited somebody to transform the thought

I’m not doing enough

to

I want to do more.

Are you stumped by why I thought that was so important?

I wonder if anybody at the hospital cafeteria yesterday was stumped by matzo balls. Are you? I was personally stumped because the soup, at first, was matzo-ball-less.

Don’t be stumped by the matzo-ball-less appearance of that soup. The matzo balls were there, but they were sinkers, not floaters. Are you stumped by the concept of floating vs. sinking matzo balls? If so, don’t stay stumped — ask for help, below.

Speaking of sinking, when I told my friend Jan yesterday that I’ll be  having surgery next month for synching my heart ventricles, she looked stumped for a second. She thought I’d said “sinking” instead of “synching.”  Because she’s a nurse, she realized her mistake immediately.

In case you’re stumped by what might be sustaining me, right now, while I’m creating this stumped post, here it is:

I’m stumped by why I and others don’t eat more apples, rather than junk food. Apples are so yummy. Are you stumped by that photo, in any way?

Speaking of food … 

That was dinner last night, served by my boyfriend, Michael. Is anybody stumped by why I let him do all of our cooking (except for an occasional fried matzo, by me)?

In case you’re stumped by how to move forward, here’s one answer I saw on a wall last night:

As I was taking one step at a time yesterday  on my walk to work, I was stumped by how the universe put the PERFECT music into my earphones.

Are  you stumped by what that music might be? I would expect you would be stumped, at this point, so allow me to answer that particular stumper.

It was the full version of “Gotta Dance/Broadway Melody” — from my favorite movie musical Singin’ in the Rain — which lasted every step of my way, until I reached the hospital.

I am stumped in my attempts to share that full version with you now, but here’s part of it from YouTube, with the stumpingly amazing Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse:

I wonder if anybody, yesterday, was stumped by how  happy I looked, walking towards work on a Monday morning!

Stumping and stomping good thanks to Gene Kelly, to Cyd Charisse, to my family, to Jan, to people who do their best to let go of thoughts that might stump them in their attempts to heal and grow, to matzo in all its various manifestations, to synching and sinking hearts, to Fenway Park and Red Sox fans everywhere,  and to you — of course! — for stumping your way over here, today.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , | 47 Comments

Day 826: The difference between tragedy and comedy

Posted on April 6, 2015 by Ann Koplow

I got a paper-cut on my finger three days ago  at work, and it’s been hurting me ever since.

I don’t know if Oscar — or you — can see that cut, but it’s reminding me of this definition of the difference between tragedy  and comedy, from Mel Brooks as The 2000 Year Old Man:

Tragedy is when I get a paper-cut on my finger. It hurts, I’ll run around, I’ll cry, and I’ll go to the hospital.

Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.

Even though I can’t find that particular tragedy/comedy clip right now,  that’s no tragedy, since there’s lots more comedy where that came from :

You can find Mel Brooks and Carl Reiner performing the amazing comedy of The 2000 Year Old Man on YouTube and — I hope — many other places.  It would be a tragedy if those jewels of improvisational comedy ever disappear.

Sometimes, I find it hard to decide what’s tragic and what’s comic, in my life. Sometimes, I laugh to keep from crying or find it all so funny, I cry.

Am I alone in this tragicomedy?

Whatever your thoughts about that or anything else in this post, it wouldn’t be a tragedy if you leave them in a comment, you know.

Here are some photos I took last night, when I was thinking about tragedy and comedy at our local supermarket.

  

I am hoping that nobody’s so tragically alone that they need a talking mouse like that, just to hear the words, “I like you.”

Here’s a tragedy for me (which may be comical to you):

My most favorite Skinny Cow dessert has tragically  disappeared from the freezer section of my supermarket.   I fear the yummy and low calorie chocolate mousse ganache cones I love  will never, ever return.

If my thoughts turn tragic about that loss or about anything else (like the upcoming surgery for my unusual heart), I’ll just remember this:

Yes, I have survived disco, so I’ll probably survive a whole lot more.

There’s a specific personal tragedy I’d like to transform here, before I end this post. Last week, a doctor I met for the first time said things I found negative, frightening, and tragically hope-diminishing. As I’ve oft written in this blog, negative words and thoughts  can tragically push out the positive.

In the here and now, I resolve to turn that tragedy into comedy.

How?

Well, as I’ve found in individual and group psychotherapy, it’s possible to reduce the power of toxic people by changing your thoughts about them. For example, I could picture that cardiologist as a clown  or as a standup comedian, delivering a routine (rather than delivering dire predictions about my health).

Also, I could turn that personal tragedy into comedy here,  with some jokes about doctors:

“Doctor, you have to help me out!” “Certainly, which way did you come in?”

“Doctor, you’ve taken out my tonsils, my adenoids, my gall bladder, and my appendix, but I still don’t feel well.” “That’s enough out of you!”

“Doctor, my leg hurts! What can I do?” “Limp.”

“Doctor, I’ve hurt my arm in several places.” “Don’t go there any more.”

What’s the difference between God and a doctor?
God doesn’t think He’s a doctor. 

As that last joke reminds me, that doomsday doctor I saw last week is not God. No human being, doctor or otherwise, is psychic about the future. We all have to wait and see what really happens, with all of us.

Maybe I’ll run into this doctor years from now, still looking as good as I do now, and give him some sort of comic gesture.

What do you think that gesture should be?

When you have about 25 minutes for some great comedy, watch this episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show for a perfect suggestion:

(Note: that episode is no longer available on YouTube, perhaps because of the tragedy of Mary Tyler Moore’s death.  The gesture, in “The Critic” episode,  was  a pie in the face.)

Well! I have to go to the hospital now, not because of my paper-cut or any other tragedy, but because I need to get to work.

Here’s what it looks like outside, right now:

Is that a tragedy or a comedy? It might depend on how close it is, to you.

Tragically sincere thanks to Mel Brooks, to Carl Reiner, to the wonderful writers and actors from The Mary Tyler Moore Show, to people who live a thousand years or less,  to good doctors, to bunnies of all colors, to skinny cows, and to you — of course! —  for sharing my comedies and tragedies, here and now.

Categories: humor, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , | 34 Comments

Day 825: Seeing the light

Posted on April 5, 2015 by Ann Koplow

Yesterday, I expected to see the rain, because of the weather report. Not uncommonly around here, the weather report was wrong and, instead, I saw the light.

Yesterday, I forgot my cell phone when I went out into the light to meet my childhood-through-present-day friend Barbara for brunch, so no photos of that wonderful meeting will see the light.

During my time with Barbara yesterday, we talked about many things — from the light to the heavy — including:

  • memories from our childhood,
  • medical issues,
  • coping strategies,
  • many people we’ve loved over the years,  including our parents,
  • this blog,
  • how to do better accepting the light of other people’s praise and positive feedback, and
  • vacation getaways, including this one:

 

I told Barbara how, during some dark days I was having last week, that video of the Underwater Room in Africa had lightened my mood.

Talking to Barbara for hours yesterday lightened my mood even more.

We both lost track of time and expected to see parking tickets alighting on our cars, but we saw nothing on our cars but light at the end of our enlightening time together.

Yay!

Later, in the light of a local shopping mall, I saw the light of these five things, with my boyfriend Michael:

    

I realize that in the light of this blog, that looks like six things, not five. Allow me to shed light on that:  At the restaurant last night, I turned the table number upside down (which prevented the server with our food to see the light of our location, temporarily).

I shall now enlighten you about why I was playing with that number in the light of the mall restaurant, by sharing the lightness of this joke (which I heard, many years ago, on a  Joke Show radio hour of Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion):

Boat rental employee (through megaphone): Boat #99, your time is up! Please bring your boat back to the dock.
Other boat rental employee: Ummm, we only have 70 boats to rent here.
Boat rental employee: Boat # 66! Are you in trouble?!!!!

Speaking of trouble, I’ve been feeling like my very unusual heart (which is not upside down but backwards) is in trouble lately, and various cardiologist have agreed. I feel lighter, right now, telling you about two dates coming up in May 2015:

Sunday, May 3: I see Todd Rundgren at the Wilbur Theater in Boston, for the first time in my 62 years.

Monday, May 4: I go in for surgery a block away from the Wilbur Theater at Tufts Medical Center, which I hope will allow me to see the light of many more days.

I shall now bring to light an appropriate song for today’s post:

I’m looking forward to hearing and seeing Todd Rundgren perform “I Saw the Light” on May 3.

What lights have you seen in this post?

Light and deep thanks to Barbara, to Michael,  to the Easter Bunny, to Garrison Keillor, to Todd Rundgren,  to the Underwater Room, to the Burlington Mall, and to everybody who has a light to share with the world today, including you!

Categories: friendship, inspiration, personal growth | Tags: , , , , , | 31 Comments

Day 824: Aaaarrrgggghhh!!!

Posted on April 4, 2015 by Ann Koplow

The title of today’s post is something I write to express:

  • disappointment,
  • frustration, and
  • fear.

People who know me might tell me I’m brave and even fearless, at times, but here I was, writing that very thing two nights ago:

Yes, I spelled it differently, but it’s essentially the same.

So why did I write

two nights ago?

Was it because:

  1. one very famous cardiologist told me recently that  if I do NOT have valve surgery immediately I will most likely  get sicker and sicker and then die a horrible death AND
  2. a  very trusted and also famous cardiologist  told me recently that there’s a 1 in 10 chance I would not survive valve surgery and even if I do survive it, that valve  surgery could very well hasten the deterioration of my very unusual heart?

That seems like as good a reason as any to write

… doesn’t it?

Nevertheless, I wrote

at a therapy group at work on Thursday night, because the topic we had chosen together was “Frustration.”

How do you express frustration, dear reader? Feel free to write

or anything else in the comments, below.

One thing  I saw yesterday, in particular, made me say

Can you guess which image it was?

                
      

By the way, that last photo of Winston at my work parking garage — as he was telling me “Every human being goes temporarily insane at some time” — did not make me go

… but another one of those photos did.

Here’s some music I heard for the first time yesterday, in celebration of Boston Red Sox Opening Day, on Monday:

“Fanfare for Fenway,” written and conducted by John Williams, definitely did not make me go

when I heard it. It made me go

YAAYYYY!!!!!!!

I almost forgot! Here’s something else that made me go

YAAYYYY!!!!!!
 

Yesterday, I heard people — at a big morning meeting at work — mention my name for being instrumental in creating positive changes they described as

REVOLUTIONARY!

I guess I also use that when I am

  • surprised by recognition,
  • praised in unexpected ways, and
  • don’t know what else to say.

A big YAY! of gratitude to John Williams, to Winston, to  people who attend my therapy groups, to supportive people at hospitals (including my trusted, long-time cardiologist Deeb Salem), to everybody I saw yesterday, and to you — of course!!!!!!! — for bringing all your arghhh!, yaayyyy!, and other reactions here, today.

Categories: personal growth, pride | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 62 Comments

Day 823: _____ matters

Posted on April 3, 2015 by Ann Koplow

How would you fill in that blank in the title of today’s post?

To me ….

… because it lifts my heart, no matter what.

Here are some other matters that mattered enough to me, yesterday, that I spied them with my little eye and snapped them with my little iPhone:

    

Before I started this blog back in 2013, I had no idea that what I see, matters.

One more matter, from my iPhone:

What is the matter with me, that I would take a photo of  a wastepaper basket in my office? How could THAT possibly matter to you or to anybody else ?

Matter of fact, that is  no ordinary wastepaper basket.  Rather, it’s one of the magic wastepaper baskets that matter-ialize whenever I do one of my therapy groups. At the end of each therapy group, I invite people who matter (and who often feel like they do NOT matter) to use the magic waste paper basket, like so:

If you throw something away in the magic wastepaper basket, it might disappear! And even if it DOES come back, it comes back smaller and less powerful.

I guess that matters to some people, because they throw away things like

  • worry,
  • fear,
  • self-criticism,
  • shame,
  • grudges, and
  • Kleenex.

What disposable matters might you throw away in that magic waste paper basket, right now?

It’s a matter of taste what music matters to each of us. Here’s “The Heart of the Matter,” by Don Henley:

The heart of the matter for me, here and now, is this: My heart seems to matter more than usual, these days, to me and to other people, too.

Does it matter to anybody that I wish my heart didn’t matter quite so much to so many heart doctors?

I matter-of-factly need to end this post earlier today than I usually do on a Friday. Why? Because there’s an 8 AM presentation at the hospital where I work, which might include some matters about my therapy groups. No matter what, the presentation is about improving patient care, which really, really matters.

One more thought that matters to me, in this mattering moment:

A doctor who matters a great deal to me told me, two days ago, that I’ll probably never feel as good and healthy as I used to. Even if that’s true,  even if I have a cardiac condition  that increasingly slows me down…..

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I STILL MATTER, as much as ever.

What matters most to you, in today’s post?

It matters to me to thank everybody who mattered in my creating this post today and it matters to me —  especially! — to thank you, who matters a great a deal.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , | 51 Comments

Day 822: April Fools

Posted on April 2, 2015 by Ann Koplow

I would be fooling if I wrote that yesterday —  April 1/April Fools Day, 2015 — was an easy day for me.

Was I a fool to see several cardiologists on April Fools Day, as I tried to reach non-foolish decisions about my foolishly unusual heart?

Here’s something I foolishly took a picture of, as I was waiting to see the first cardiologist on April Fools Day:

Here was the most foolishly scary thing I heard all day yesterday, soon after I took that foolish photo:

Your current doctors have been foolish by not replacing your valve before now. Valve surgery is the only thing that can save you. The operation may kill you, but if you do nothing, you will keep getting worse and die a horrible death.

You may think I am foolishly exaggerating what that first cardiologist said. I am not, although I foolishly cannot remember each one of his exact words.

After I heard those words (and many other scary ones), I shed a few tears. As always, it was NOT foolish to cry and to have my feelings.  Then, I went to the hospital where my long-time cardiologists — Dr. Salem and Dr. Estes —  have been treating me non-foolishly for over 30 years.

Here is Dr. Salem, trying not to make a fool of himself as he is interviewed on the phone by the Boston Business Journal:

Dr. Salem discussed many possible next steps with me, including:

  • Valve surgery
  • Pacemaker/defibrillator surgery
  • Heart transplant
  • Wait and see.

When I told him the scary words I’d heard from the cardiologist earlier in the day, Dr. Salem explained why those words  were foolish and not true. During the many years I have been working with Dr. Salem, he has helped me let go of foolish fear because of foolish  words I read or hear about my extremely rare cardiac condition, which can easily fool doctors who don’t know me well.

After I saw Dr. Salem on April Fools Day, I met with Dr. Mark Estes, whom I foolishly did not photograph.  Dr. Estes, like Dr. Salem, is no fool. He told me he has spent the last few months talking to as many non-foolish experts about  hearts like mine and reading as many non-foolish articles as he could find, in order to make his best, unfooled recommendation to me. Here was Dr Estes’s April Fools Day recommendation:

Replace my current cardiac pacemaker with a pacemaker-defibrillator combo and add new wires to pace and synchronize both ventricles of my heart.

Because I had foolishly not eaten enough yesterday and because I was still feeling the foolish fears from my first cardiology appointment earlier in the day, I foolishly did not write down all of the details of Dr. Estes suggestions, including the name of his recommended surgical procedure.

I am no fool, though, because I do remember all this:

  • This surgical procedure has a 50% chance of increasing my life longevity,
  • It is much less dangerous than valve surgery,
  • If it doesn’t work, we can always consider valve surgery again,
  • We scheduled this recommended surgery for May 4, and
  • The first  week of May is the week I was already planning to take off from work in order to enjoy the spring, which will be so foolishly and spectacularly gorgeous for all of us Bostonians who have survived this year’s foolish winter.

Be still, my foolish heart!

Actually, that’s a rather foolish thing to write, considering the circumstances.

Last night, I foolishly took all of these April Fools Day pictures:

          

      

      

What “Fool” song would you choose for this post-April Fools Day post?

Here’s my choice, about a fool on a hill:

No fooling: I’d be foolishly pleased if you leave any fool songs, questions, or comments below.

Heart-felt, day-after-April-Fools thanks to Dr. Deeb Salem, to Dr. Mark Estes, to Paul McCartney and the Beatles, to cardiologists everywhere, to those who try their best not to get fooled again, to hearts that follow their true path, and to you, my non-foolish and much  appreciated reader.

Categories: gratitude, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 59 Comments

Day 821: I don’t feel well (or good)

Posted on April 1, 2015 by Ann Koplow

I don’t feel well, already,  not knowing whether it’s good to say

I don’t feel well

or

I don’t feel good.

Do you know the answer to that, well enough?

I don’t feel well (or good?)  about these photos I hurriedly took yesterday, through my car window on my drive into work:

                

When I got to my workplace  garage yesterday, I didn’t feel well (or good) enough to take my usual one-mile walk, so I snapped this shot from the shuttle bus:

I feel good sharing with you, now, my guesses about why I did not feel well yesterday. It could be:

  • The shape of my heart (which — because of my heart’s unusual shape — is challenging to diagnose and treat well, even by well schooled and well experienced heart doctors),
  • Winter’s refusal to march well out of Boston, even by the last day of March,
  • My well-validated anxiety and well-documented thoughts and feelings about a good number of good doctor appointments today,
  • Anniversary memories about my becoming unwell with pneumonia, this good time last year,
  • Trouble sleeping well the night before, and
  • Well …. don’t you think this list is well, good, and long  enough?

Here are some shots of the good whiteboard in my office yesterday, when people were trying to feel well in therapy:

    

If you can’t read that last photo well enough, it says:

What if the concept of failure did not exist?

Would believing that well-intentioned question from me help YOU feel well or good?

Here’s a song about (not) feeling well (or good):

That good song — “Coconut” by Harry Nilsson — reminds me, well enough, how a good patient like me can be confused sometimes, even by good and well-meaning doctors.

Well,  I hope no doctor calls me a silly woman today; that wouldn’t  be good for anybody.

Thanks to Harry Nilsson, to doctors everywhere, to people doing their best to let go of unhelpful thoughts, to limes and to coconuts. Also, well-and-good thanks to you, for visiting here today.

Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , | 37 Comments

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