I hope this blooming post finds you blooming well on this blooming beautiful October morning.
Speaking of blooming, all my blooming doctors and everybody else who sees me says that I look blooming wonderful as I am blooming and recovering from my blooming valve replacement surgery last month.
My blooming friend, Carol, gave us a blooming plant soon after my blooming boyfriend and I got home from blooming Rochester, Minnesota, where I had my blooming open heart surgery.
As you can see in that blooming photo, that plant has a lot more blooming to do. As a matter of fact, I took that blooming photo moments after my blooming boyfriend, Michael, was saying out loud to that blooming plant: “Bloom! Bloom!”
Would you like to blooming see all my other blooming photos from yesterday?
Isn’t that blooming great? Now, please leave a blooming comment so I know what you blooming think of this blooming post.
Now I have to blooming decide whether to publish this blooming post at 2:42 AM, when I’m blooming finishing it, or wait until a more reasonable blooming hour tomorrow morning.
Oh, blooming hell! Does it really blooming matter?
Blooming thanks to all who helped me create this blooming post and to you — of course! — for being my blooming reader, here and now.
On the eve of the 63rd Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) in the book of my life, I am thinking about the Book of Life:
In Christianity and Judaism, the Book of Life (Hebrew: ספר החיים, transliterated Sefer HaChaim; Greek: βιβλίον τῆς ζωῆς Biblíon tēs Zōēs) is the book in which God records the names of every person who is destined for Heaven or the World to Come. According to the Talmud it is open on Rosh Hashanah, as is its analog for the wicked, the Book of the Dead. For this reason extra mention is made for the Book of Life during Amidah recitations during the Days of Awe, the ten days between Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year, and Yom Kippur, the day of atonement (the two High Holidays, particularly in the prayer Unetaneh Tokef). — Wikipedia
Earlier this year, many book-reading cardiologists in my life told me I absolutely needed open heart surgery, if I wanted to live a good and long life. Therefore, I’ve been writing in this Blogging Book of Life many, many entries about preparing for and then recovering from my September 21 heart valve replacement surgery.
Honestly, I was scared I might not make into the next book of life, but I did!
Yesterday, as I was thinking about many memories of the Book of Life at synagogue when I was just a kid with a congenital heart condition, I realized I wanted to do my own, personal ritual about The Book of Life. So, I took a blank book I had purchased around this time last year and did this:
Yay! I made it into the Book of Life!
Here are my other photos from yesterday, which are now making it into this here blogging book of life:
My photographer friend Kathy, who was in my book of life yesterday, sent me these two photos, which I hereby inscribe in my blogging Book of Life:
Now, here’s some music associated with The Book of Life:
I hope you write something in this blogging book of life, below.
Thanks to all who helped me write this Book of Life post and to you — of course! — no matter how you are writing in your own book of life, today.
Last month, if you had asked me to predict my next best day ever, I never would have predicted I’d be writing a post with this title, today. I mean, really! How could a day in early October be a ….
… if I was undergoing open heart surgery on September 21?
Nevertheless, yesterday, October 7, WAS one of the best days ever, because:
one of the best college roommates ever, Maria, is staying with me and my best ever boyfriend Michael to give us support as well as rides to medical appointments and grocery stores,
I received one of the best get-well cards ever from my co-workers at a major Boston teaching hospital,
my blood test showed the best INR level ever of 2.8, indicating I will still be able to eat the best food ever, even though I’m now taking Coumadin/Warfarin,
it was one of the best autumn days ever in Boston,
I was in the least pain ever as I was taking walks alone and with Maria, and
I’m feeling much better than I ever thought possible so soon after my valve replacement surgery.
In other words, a day I had predicted might be one of my worst days ever turned out to be one of my best days ever. What’s the best lesson we can learn from all this?
Don’t worry about the future, my dear readers. Why assume that things will turn out badly? If you’re going to assume, assume the best possible outcome. That way, you’ll still get to the future without the added burdens of fear, worry, and emotional pain.
Is that the best advice ever?
What is the best image ever, among all the other photos I took yesterday?
What do you think would be the best music ever, to go with this best-day-ever post?
Finally, to all the best people ever who helped me create today’s post and to you — of course! — for being the best readers ever, I hereby express some of the best thanks ever:
What do I have to look forward to if I don’t have my readers and my blog to write every day?
What do you have to look forward to if I don’t have a good enough explanation for the inspiration behind today’s post title?
When I was a little girl, there was nothing I looked forward to more than my mother finally saying “yes” to my repeated requests that we get a cat. One thing I did NOT look forward to, back then, were all the hospitalizations I needed because of my congenital heart condition. After my first major heart surgery, when I was 10 years old, I woke up from the anesthesia and said to my mother:
What do I have to look forward to if I don’t have a cat?
After I fell back asleep, I woke up again and said to my mother:
What do I have to look forward to if I don’t have a cat?
My mother looked forward and told me I could look forward to getting a cat after I came home from the hospital.
What do I have to look forward to if I don’t have a photo of me and my first cat Tuffy to share with you all?
What do I have to look forward to if I don’t have my iPhone to capture images I find interesting, while I am recovering from recent heart valve replacement surgery?
What do I have to look forward to if I don’t have comments about this post?
What do I have to look forward to if I don’t have gratitude for all those who helped me create this post and for you — of course! — no matter what you have to look forward to, here and now.
Time to join the band wagon of Ann’s readers, who are used to seeing her begin posts by defining phrases like “band wagon.”
band·wag·on
ˈbandˌwaɡən/
noun
1. a wagon used for carrying a band in a parade or procession.
2. a particular activity or cause that has suddenly become fashionable or popular.
“the local deejays are on the home-team bandwagon”
I had a recent experience with definition #1, when one of my Boston cardiologists offered to pick up me and my boyfriend Michael at Boston’s Logan Airport in a band wagon, no matter when we returned home after my September 21 open heart surgery at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. However, I foiled that band wagon by returning late at night and way before anybody expected me to — six days after my heart valve replacement surgery.
By the way, I just noticed that WordPress is suggesting I invite my readers to join a band wagon (definition #2) by including this message at the top of post-creation page:
Encourage your US-based users to register to vote by adding a subtle prompt to your site.
If you were in my band wagon of classic American movie musical fans, you might add a third definition of “band wagon,” like so:
3. the most intelligent AND fun American movie musical ever made starring Fred Astaire (as opposed the most intelligent AND fun American movie musical ever made starring Gene Kelly, which is Singin’ in the Rain).
Because I like to join band wagons of people recovering from a traumatic event like surgery who treat themselves exceedingly well, I watched the beginning of The Band Wagonyesterday morning, which included these two musical numbers (here and here on YouTube):
No matter what is going on in my life, that second number from The Band Wagon puts a melody in my heart, gives me a singable happy feeling AND a wonderful way to start my day.
Now, would you like to join the band wagon of Ann’s readers who enjoy looking at images captured on her iPhone from the day before?
Those last two photos feature Dr. Deeb Salem, one of my band wagon of cardiologists (but not the one who offered to pick us up in a band wagon at the airport). In the first photograph, Dr. Salem is with Dr. Marvin Konstam, 31 years ago, as they performed the first heart transplant at Tufts Medical Center. In the second photo, Dr. Salem is with the person who is writing this here blog post on band wagons.
Now, would you like to join the band wagon of people who keep telling me I look way too good to have had heart surgery a scant two weeks ago?
Because I always like to join the band wagon of people polite enough to express thanks when they are feeling gratitude, here’s a message to all those who helped me create this post and to all those who are reading it, here and now:
Whenever you’ve had a harrowing experience, it helps to plan for the near future, especially if you focus on what you adore.
For example, exactly two weeks ago today I had major heart surgery which was, honestly, pretty harrowing. So it’s helping me to plan for and focus on the near future, which includes:
My college roommate, Maria, whom I adore, flying in from Portland Oregon, which I adore, to stay with me and my boyfriend Michael, whom I adore, for eight days.
An appointment this afternoon with my Primary Care Physician, Dr. Laura Snydman, whom I adore.
Getting a ride to my doctor’s visit this afternoon from my sister, Ellen, whom I adore.
Seeing Mel Brooks, whom I adore, in person in a few weeks, accompanied by my neighbor Karen, whom I adore.
Attending a performance of “An American in Paris,” which I adore, the following week with my friend Barbara, whom I adore.
It also helps to look at the near past, especially when my progress is so encouraging, which I adore. For example, last night — for the first time since my surgery — I went for a short walk outside alone, which I adored. Here’s what I saw:
In your near future, you could plan to adore this post even more, as I show you other pictures from yesterday of things I adore:
Here‘s the music I am listening to as I write this near-future post, which I adore:
Is there a comment in my near future, which I would adore?
I adore everybody and everything that helped me create this near-future post and also you — of course! — for including me in your near future.
Yesterday, my 12th day after open heart surgery, I fell asleep and had a dream of being lifted suddenly by unseen hands and carried, very rapidly, as I lay flat on my back, through many rooms and hallways. In the dream, I thought, “Oh no! Ghosts are taking me away!” I screamed in the dream, the dream faded, and I woke up in my bed at home.
Somewhat of an expert on dreams (because I’m a psychotherapist), I asked myself, “What did that dream mean?” And I realized the dream captured the dreamlike experience of being wheeled down hospital hallways into operating rooms, which has happened to me more times than you could possibly dream between the ages of 10 and 63.
Then, I got ready for my dream of a friend, Carol, to pick me up and carry me to my appointment at the Coumadin/Warfarin clinic at Tufts Medical Center in Boston, to find out if I would be able to eat all the foods of my dreams on this new medication. The nurse there, Kathleen, was a dream, as she allayed my fears and told me I would probably be able to eat whatever I wanted (including chocolate!), as long as I did so consistently.
Then, I told Carol I wanted to drop in on members of my Cardiology Dream Team at Tufts Medical Center, who hadn’t yet seen me since my surgery at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota on September 21. I assumed my appearance would exceed their wildest dreams. And while most patients wouldn’t dream of dropping in unexpectedly on their doctors, my cardiologist Dr. Mark Estes has demonstrated (see my previous dreamy blog post here), that he is fine with my doing that.
The next hour was like a dream. Dr. Mark Estes showed up trailed by five students and told me I looked like a dream — better than he had ever seen me in our decades of working together. I told Dr. Estes that I might have been dreaming, but I thought I had heard various people at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota state that my heart was in a normal/sinus rhythm after the operation, instead of its usual atrial fibrillation.
Let me explain why my heart going out of atrial fibrillation and into normal/sinus rhythm, even for a limited amount of time, would be a very unlikely dream come true.
My heart went out of normal rhythm and into atrial fibrillation almost exactly three years ago today (described in this here dreamy blog post).
At that time, my doctors agreed it did not make sense for them to try any non-surgical means to return my heart to a normal rhythm, because the atria were so stretched out from my leaky valve that my heart would almost definitely return to a-fib.
When I had my last cardiac procedure in May of 2015, Dr. Estes told me that my fibrillating atria were even bigger — “the size of a grapefruit, instead of the normal size of a walnut.”
My other cardiologist, Dr. Deeb Salem, had a dream: he hoped that the surgeon at the Mayo Clinic, when performing the open heart surgery twelve days ago to replace my leaky valve, might also use a surgical technique (called the Maze technique) to try to get my heart back into a normal rhythm.
When I discussed that possibility with the Mayo doctors, they all agreed that the added surgical time of two hours was NOT worth the risk, since the chances of any technique returning me to normal rhythm was highly unlikely.
At that point, I let go of the dream of my heart getting out of atrial fibrillation, and instead focused on preparing myself for the heart valve replacement surgery.
So when I told Dr. Estes yesterday that I thought I had heard people at the Mayo Clinic say that I was out of a-fib after my surgery, he looked like he thought I was dreaming. He said, “Ann, if your heart DID get back into sinus rhythm post surgery, that would have lasted for a very short time. I am skeptical it happened at all.”
And then everybody — Dr. Estes, the students, Carol, me, and others — watched yesterday, as if in a dream, as we accessed the data stored in my pacemaker/defibrillator to see what kind of rhythms my dreamy heart had been generating recently, when I’ve been awake and dreaming.
As if in a dream, my dream team cardiologist, Dr. Mark Estes, announced to all of us: “You’re in sinus rhythm. And you’ve been out of a fib and in normal rhythm consistently since your surgery on September 21.”
I responded, “My boyfriend Michael would call this a Christmas miracle.” I heard Carol say, dreamily and sweetly, “Today is the Jewish New Year.” Everybody looked happy, like in a dream or in a special on the Hallmark Movie Channel where the heroine does better than anybody dreamed possible.
How did this better-than-anybody-could-possibly-have-dreamed result occur? I have a dreamy memory of a discussion, last week, with a Mayo Clinic EKG technician, who told me I was in normal/sinus rhythm when he visited me in the Intensive Care Unit. Perhaps, we speculated, when they stopped my heart and then restarted it after the open heart surgery, that helped my heart’s rhythm — just how we often fix our phones, computers, and other devices by turning them off and turning them back on again. Sometimes, the simplest solution works better than our wildest dreams.
After this dream of a visit with Dr. Estes, Carol carried me away in her car and drove me home to my dreamy boyfriend Michael. I told him the good news, as if in a dream. Later, when I shared the good news with my dreamy 18-year-old son, Aaron — far far away in the dreamy land of Scotland — Aaron texted me: “It sounds like a magical fairy wonderland situation over there.”
Magical and MUCH better than the scary dream that started out my dream of a day, yesterday.
I also want to say, at this point in this dreamy post, that it’s very possible that my dream of a heart with its shiny new valve might go back into atrial fibrillation — tomorrow, next week, or some other point in the future. However, I wouldn’t dream of lowering my heart’s expectations right now — that heart of mine has exceeded everybody’s dreams for sooooooo long.
Because my readers appreciate photos I take beyond my wildest dreams, here are all the dreamy images I captured yesterday:
You know what? Yesterday still feels like a dream to me …. too good to be true. And I don’t have any photos showing Dr. Estes, the medical students, Carol, Kathleen the nurse, or any of other people I dreamily wrote about in this post.
So …. maybe it was all a dream?
What do you think, my dreamy readers?
Dreamy thanks to all those who helped me create this dream of a post and to you — of course! — for whatever dreams you bring, here and now.
Today’s post title was inspired by a greeting card I saw, yesterday, during my first trip to a supermarket since my open heart surgery on September 21.
This warm blogger is sincere when she reassures her readers that yesterday’s trip to the supermarket was appropriately short and sweet. Also, I had two warm and sincere people accompanying me for support — my short friend Deb and my tall boyfriend Michael.
Today’s blog post needs to be short and sweet, my warm and sincere readers, because my sincerely awesome friend Carol will soon be taking me to a warm Warfarin/Coumadin clinic, as I sweetly work my way toward the right dosage of that medication while also eating the sweet, sour, and warm food I sincerely prefer.
Do any of my other photos from yesterday seem short, sweet, warm, and/or sincere?
For all of my readers who are celebrating the Jewish New Year today, here‘s a short and sweet, warm and sincere video:
If you leave a short and sweet comment, I will reply warmly.
Short and sweet thanks to all who helped me create today’s post and to you — of course! — for visiting, here and now.
Now that my heart valve-replacement surgery is behind me, people are saying, “I’ve never seen you like this before” for different reasons, including these:
I have new scars,
I am even more in love with my wonderful and care-taking boyfriend Michael,
Something major like open heart surgery tends to change people, doesn’t it?
Yesterday, my long-time friend Eleanor — who has seen me in many ways over the years — said, “I’ve never seen you like this before” when I got angry and upset with an abrupt hospital administrator whom I needed to get past in order to my blood tested for another INR level. I’ve decided I never want to see the administrator like that, again, so I probably won’t go back to that same location for future blood tests.
After I got my blood drawn by people I had never seen before, Eleanor and I went to see people I really like to see and who have been seen before on this blog (like here): the wonderful staff at Mount Auburn Hospital Cardiac Rehab.
That’s Kathy, Danise, and Carla. In a week or two, they’ll be seeing me like they’ve never seen me before, recovering slowly from open heart surgery.
Here are some more photos you’ve never seen like this before: