Posts Tagged With: Dr. Deeb Salem

Day 1186: Violent Agreement

You’re probably in violent agreement with me that one rarely sees the words “violent” and “agreement” linked together, as they are in today’s post title. You might violently agree that the words “violent” and “disagreement” are MUCH more commonly paired.

People who have have read this blog before could be in violent agreement about all this:

  1. I usually blog about things that have happened the day before.
  2. If I see or hear something that agrees with me (violently or otherwise), it appears in this blog.
  3. Since I started this daily blog, cardiologists have been in violent disagreement about my very unusual heart, including how it affects my health and my prognosis.

Yesterday, I wrote a  despairing (if not violent) email to my chief cardiologist, Dr. Deeb Salem, with the subject heading “descending into confusion and anxiety (again).”

Hi Deeb,

I know that’s a dramatic subject heading, but there it is.

One heart specialist tells me I’m in class 2 heart failure, a week ago Friday.

That affects how I feel.

Another one insists that I need to have a surgical consult when I visit with her at the Mayo Clinic.

She is not available for me to ask her why.

Her very kind and nice scheduling person tells me that she was concerned by the data she saw in my records about my valve and believes a surgical consult is necessary.

My mind goes to — THEY WANT ME TO HAVE A VALVE OPERATION!

And I remember you and I deciding that the odds were not good for a valve operation.

Why would I want to talk to a surgeon in Minnesota ? There is no friggin’ way I would have the surgery out there, away from my friends and family.

So my question is this: does it make sense for me to shlepp all the way to Minneapolis, especially if the likelihood is that they are going to suggest valve surgery, which people here have  already convinced me would be very dangerous?

I know that you are used to dealing with smart people who ask a lot of questions. Please answer as best you can.

I am seeing Dr. Laura Snydman today and I’m sure we will be discussing this also.

Inquisitively,
Ann

After I saw Dr. Laura Snydman yesterday  (whom people would agree, violently or otherwise, is AWESOME), I checked my email and saw this:

Ann,

Give me a call.

Deeb

When I called Dr. Deeb Salem and told him where I was, he invited me up to his office.

Then, Dr. Salem listened patiently as I expressed all the thoughts and feelings in my heart, about my heart.

When I was finished, he said:

I’m in violent agreement with you.

Which immediately made me feel less violent and much more agreeable.

Isn’t it amazing how validation and agreement can do that?

As I write this “Violent Agreement” post today, Dr. Salem and I are in violent agreement about the following:

  1. I will consult with adult congenital heart specialists at the Mayo Clinic in May.
  2. My sister will accompany me there.
  3. No matter what happens, that will be a valuable trip.
  4. Brown University and the University of Edinburgh would both be non-violently agreeable places for my son to attend college next year (if he gets into both of those, which we should find out today).

Here are some pictures I took yesterday, in the midst of much violent agreement:

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Are you in violent or non-violent agreement  or disagreement about any of the above?

I hope you are in violent agreement with me that Dr. Salem deserves to be on my

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and so do my readers, including you!

Categories: health care, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , | 49 Comments

Day 1174: heroes

Even though there are many heroes in my life, this is the first time I’ve ever written a post titled “heroes.”

Yesterday, I spent time with lots of heroes. For example, last night one of my heroes — my boyfriend Michael  — showed me this:

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Earlier in the day, I met with my heroes Dr. Mark Estes and RN Melanie Marshall (both appearing in this heroic blog post from March 2014). During yesterday’s check-up with those medical heroes about my Implantable Cardiac Device (ICD), your humble blogging hero heard and said lots of things, including the following:

  • I seem to be doing somewhat better since I received my heroic  ICD last May.
  • Dr. Estes —  who is always more conservative, cautious, and concerned than my other cardiologist hero, Dr. Deeb Salem — wants me to travel to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, to consult with Dr. Carole Warnes, well-known hero to others who have my extremely rare cardiac condition (congenitally corrected transposition of the great arteries a/k/a cctga),
  • I believe Dr. Carole Warnes is the heroic doctor who wrote me in 1997 when I was  pregnant with my only son Aaron (another one of my heroes) with her opinion that it was safe for me to carry him to term (despite other doctors publishing articles concluding that pregnancy was dangerous for women with cctga).
  • During the appointment with Dr. Estes, I saw him blush three times, including when I told him that my hero Michael had told me, “You’re always in a bad mood after you see Dr. Estes.”
  • I told  my hero Dr. Estes that my boyfriend Michael heroically exaggerates.
  • Dr. Estes acted like I was some kind of hero when he introduced me to a  heroic medical student as “The most famous patient at this hospital.”
  • I said to my hero Melanie, “It’s funny that I’ve been trying to get famous by trying out for The Voice when apparently I’m already famous.”
  • Dr. Estes heroically lied about my age in front of the student (giving me a heroic wink while doing so), but I heroically corrected him.
  • I told my heroic treaters that I was grateful for all of my medical heroes at Tufts Medical Center, calling them “The Dream Team.”
  • Yesterday, my medical heroes told me they want to keep me alive through my 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s.
  • I heroically added “… and my 90’s.”

I may be a hero to some people, but I am not heroic enough to visit Rochester, Minnesota, USA in the winter.  Does that sound like a hero to you?

Do you see any heroes in any of the other photos I heroically took yesterday?

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Astound me, please, with a comment (heroic or otherwise).

Thanks to all my heroes out there, including you!

Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , | 46 Comments

Day 1158: Help is on the way

Here’s a sign I encountered yesterday at Boston’s Tufts Medical Center, when I was on the way to see my helpful cardiologist, Dr. Deeb Salem.

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Even though that light wasn’t flashing,  help was on the way for me, including this opinion from Dr. Salem:

I think you’re doing really well.

While that and other help from Dr. Salem was on its way, I didn’t take any photos of him, which cannot be helped. If you want to go out of your way to see pictures of Dr. Salem, there’s help in some previous posts (including here, here, and here).

Earlier in the day,  during my therapy group, help was on the way for several participants who have trouble accepting good news and compliments.  People helped each other get beyond barriers to taking in the positive. As always, it was helpful to flash reminders to each other that negatives stick more easily than positives, as we go on our way.

If you want to see more photos from yesterday, help is on the way!

Did this flashing post give you any help on the way?

Helpful thanks — to Dr. Salem, to people who heal in groups, and to you (of course!) — are on the way, here and now.

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Categories: group therapy, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , | 41 Comments

Day 1157: Please Knock

What does “Please Knock” mean to you?

Here are some possible meanings of “Please Knock” currently knocking around in my mind:

  • Announce yourself.
  • Your presence is welcome.
  • Make noise.
  • Insult somebody.
  • Seize an opportunity (instead of waiting for opportunity to knock first).
  • “I am a social worker at a prominent teaching hospital in Boston who is not otherwise engaged in this moment.”

I saw all those “Please Knock” signs, yesterday, when I walked to a part of that hospital where I work and:

What other photos are knocking to be revealed here, on this morning after the Massachusetts USA presidential primary?

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Before I turn the off the lights in today’s post, I want to knock on your door one more time, with this:  I’m seeing my long-time cardiologist, Dr. Deeb Salem, later today.  Dr. Salem (knocking around in this previous post) has always encouraged me to Please Knock with any questions during our appointments.

It always pleases me to know that my knocking is welcome, anywhere.

Please knock with any comments, below.  And knocking good thanks for knocking on the door of my blog, today.

Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 36 Comments

Day 976: Reflections

Here’s my first reflection of this post:

What we reflect out into the world — and what we see reflected back at us — is a reflection of our inner, sometimes hidden reflections.

Here’s my second reflection of this post:

That’s a lot of reflection, so early in the morning.

Yesterday morning, after I had reflected some morning reflections in my 975th consecutive daily-reflections blog post, I saw this reflected in my iPhone:


That reflects how much construction is going on around here.

At my office, we reflected about the reflections of anger, and how internal reflections of anger can be distorted:


After four hours of therapeutic reflections at work, I had these reflections:

  • It was my co-worker Mary’s last day before her retirement (which will give  her precious and deserved time to relax and reflect) and — despite both of us previously reflecting that we wanted to meet for some goodbye reflections — I had to leave work at noon, without her image reflecting in my eyes. My sadness about Mary’s leaving reflects her kindness and her beautiful nature.
  • I was about to see myself reflected, in a medical sort of way, for four hours of pacemaker/defibrillator tests, echocardiograms, and reflections with my cardiologist, Dr. Deeb Salem, who has been reflecting with me since 1980 about how to reflect the best treatment towards my strangely reflecting heart.
  • Since birth, I’ve often reflected about  how to reflect on that strangely reflecting heart of mine, which reflects blood back to my body through very unusual pathways.
  • Since November 2014, many different Boston cardiologists have reflected back mixed, contradictory, and sometimes dire reflections about my prognosis, which reflects how rare and confusing my reflecting heart is.
  • Perhaps those mixed medical reflections have been reflected in some of my daily blog posts, since then.
  • Four months ago, after much reflection, my team at Tufts Medical Center and I decided on a cardiac procedure that would reflect the least amount of harm onto my strangely reflecting heart and which might extend my years of reflection on this amazingly reflecting earth.

Since what we notice reflects our inner reflections, I reflected these reflecting images onto my iPhone after I left work yesterday and went to my medical appointments, sometimes lost in reflection:



Finally, at 3:30 PM — after reflecting with pacemaker experts and technologists and students in the echocardiography lab (not pictured) — I was reflecting, with my wonderfully reflecting cardiologist, Dr. Deeb Salem, upon my strangely reflecting heart. These afternoon reflections included the worries and hopes we’ve reflected together during our mutually reflecting medical partnership for over 35 reflection-filled years. The focus of those reflections  reflected the uncertainties of the last year. I also reflected with Dr. Salem some fear that how difficult it is for me to climb steps and hills might reflect poorly on my heart (although it might just reflect my age, the need for more exercise, and/or how strangely my backwards-reflecting heart operates).

As Dr. Salem and I reflected together, our tones probably reflected the fact that we were waiting for the echocardiography lab to reflect back some important findings, including:

  • my strangely reflecting ventricle’s ejection fraction, which would reflect whether I was heading toward heart failure and
  • how much my strangely located and reflecting  tricuspid valve was leaking.

At this point in this reflecting blog post, I could include many more reflections reflecting all the topics Dr. Salem and I reflected upon yesterday, but I’m reflecting that you probably want the reflections from the echo lab, as soon as possible.  There’s no reason why your wait to find out those reflecting results should reflect the time Dr. Salem and I waited together.  Therefore …

I think those facial expressions reflect the happiness reflected in the room when the echocardiogram reflected that

  1. My ejection fraction is no worse and maybe a little bit BETTER, reflecting no dreaded downward trend in the functioning of my strangely reflecting heart and
  2. My leaky valve is reflecting blood just the way it has for years, reflecting stability.

Dr. Salem’s reflection to me: “If these numbers stay like this, you should be around for a while. ”

Pretty good reflections, right?

After much reflection on what music to include in this reflection-filled post,  I choose to reflect my love and esteem for my co-worker Mary, like so:

Take 6 (singing “Mary”) reflects THE best a capella singing I have ever heard, in my 62 years of reflection in this world.

If you express your reflections on this post, I shall reflect back a reply, after due reflection.

Reflections of gratitude towards Dr. Deeb Salem, Mary, Take 6, everybody else whose reflections helped me write this post, and you — of course! — for all your reflections, here and now.

Categories: gratitude, inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , | 34 Comments

Day 927: Greens

What are your associations with the color green?

Mine include:

  • Plants and trees
  • Healthy food
  • Lack of experience
  • New growth
  • Envy
  • Feeling sick
  • A color I miss during the winters in Boston
  • A color I don’t usually wear
  • The trim color for the outside of my current home
  • Money

Yesterday was the day of my first appointment with my very experienced and non-green chief cardiologist — Dr. Deeb Salem — since getting my new cardiac device in the green month of May. My doctors and I have been hoping that my greenly new pacemaker/defibrillator might provide new and healing therapy for my 62-year-old — and extremely unusual — red, blue and not-green  heart. While you might be green with envy about my having such a special heart, there have been many times in my life when I’ve been greenly sick, dealing with my heart condition since the green days of my birth.

When I woke up yesterday,  I was feeling a little green around the gills with nervousness, because I have continued to feel greenly depleted whenever I climb stairs.  My green fear was that might be a bad sign, especially since one of the green doctors I consulted with — during the non-green months of November 2014 through April 2015 — had said to me:

“Ann, the only important sign of whether you’re going into heart failure is how you feel when you’re climbing stairs.”

To distract my green thoughts until my appointment with Dr. Salem yesterday, I made the green decision to notice the color green, all around me:


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

  
That’s Nancy, who used to be the harpist playing soothing music for the big green Boston hospital where I work. I haven’t seen Nancy since soon after I sang a song about a green jungle with the greenly new harpist, Allie, at a work party held during the non-green winter months.  Nancy, who was wearing such a lovely color green yesterday, told me she is half green, with her Irish-Jewish roots. She also said she listened to Allie and my performance of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” on YouTube and found it greenly new and delightful, which made me go pink with pleasure and pride.


That’s the hallway of Tufts Medical Center, where I’m on my way to see Dr. Salem. To the left of that red exit sign is the Mother/Infant Unit,  where I greenly gave birth and new life to my only child, Aaron,  seventeen years ago.

That’s another green painting, close to that same spot. Every time I notice it I wonder, greenly, who chose it for that corridor wall and why.


There’s the portion of the check-in station in Cardiology where people stamp their tickets for the validated and reduced rate, so they don’t have to pay as much green in the hospital parking lot.  At that point, I was  just a few green minutes away from seeing Dr. Salem.

It’s Dr. Salem! Dr. Salem, who was wearing no green at all yesterday, told me that how I feel on stairs is NOT the only measurement of how I’m doing.  He also used his non-green experience to state that even if I don’t feel better,  as long as my heart doesn’t  get greenly worse, I should stay around through many more green months and years. He also told me some stories about when he was a green medical student fresh out of only two years of undergraduate college, but he made me promise not to tell any of those tales  in today’s green blog post.

Any green questions or comments from my readers around that great, big, beautiful green-and-blue globe we all inhabit?

Here’s my pick for some green music, today:

You can find many performances of “Greensleeves” on YouTube, including that one.

Many fresh thanks to Dr. Salem, to Nancy (and other harpists who soothe our green souls), to my son Aaron, to our newer cat Harley (who sometimes looks to me like he’s turning anxiously green under his fur), to my downstairs neighbor Karen and her dog Faxy, to the green monster at Fenway Park, to all the other greens I saw yesterday, and — of course! — to you, for reading this green post, here and now.

Categories: gratitude, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , | 46 Comments

Day 856: Good Color

My sister Ellen sent me this email two days ago, after she saw me in the hospital recovering from surgery:

Hi Ann,

It was really GOOD to see you.

You just underwent 8 hours of surgery!! Done by people using their experience, skill, and intuition to mend your heart using the best technology and tools possible. Your heart was the end product, so to speak…and from my point of view, it was doing its job well.

You looked bright, alert, in touch, had good color… Mom would have put “good color” first. You had better color than you have had in a long time. ..and that’s directly related to cardiac functioning.

What a compliment to you and everyone else involved in that surgical process. And it wasn’t just the 8 hours there, it was all the planning, prepping etc. And before that, the planning of this particular solution.

Every time I read Ellen’s email, it brings me more good color.

Here’s some good color I observed yesterday, as I prepared to leave the hospital:


That’s Ellen on the right, holding a brown paper bag with the supplies for the daily changing of my surgical bandages. On the left is my nurse, Diane, who took a “field trip” away from the cardiology unit to take me to the hospital pharmacy as I was being discharged. Don’t Ellen and Diane both have good color?

Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo (a holiday with lots of good color) AND Diane’s birthday, and we talked about how she was working on her birthday and taking today off.

As we were waiting at the pharmacy, Diane said, “There’s Deeb!” because she saw one of my colorful cardiologists, Dr. Deeb Salem (who has appeared in many previous colorful blog posts, including one titled “Pink“).

Doesn’t Dr. Salem have good color, too?

Here’s some more good color I saw yesterday, after Ellen brought me home from the hospital:

                  


                

That last shot shows our cat Oscar, with good color, in the middle of the night. He is doing his best, there, to keep my color good by lying on the bed — safely away from me — as I heal from surgery. This is colorfully notable, simce Oscar loves to lie on people, as you can see here:

My boyfriend Michael, who has good color but does not like to appear in my blog, often says that Oscar looks “very brown in the morning.”

What do you think of all the good colors in this post?

Here‘s a good-color compilation of Todd Rundgren‘s 30 years of appearances on David Letterman shows:

If you start watching at 11:11, you’ll see the colorful images of Todd Rundgren (and Bobby Womack) included in my good-color collection of photos, above.

Good color thanks to Ellen, Diane, Dr. Deeb Salem, Dr. Mark Estes (who was in charge of my surgery Monday), our cats Harley and Oscar, my ex-sister-in-law Deborah for the Creative Cats book and the coloring pencils, my friend Jeanette for the white chocolate and other goodies, Michael for the good color dinner last night, Paul Nagano for the beautiful colors of spring on our living room wall, my son Aaron (who did some of the good color artwork in this post and who has a really good color hair), Todd Rundgren, Bobby Womack, David Letterman, Anne Tyler, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and you — of course! — for all the good color you bring, today.

Categories: gratitude, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , | 69 Comments

Day 847: Diversions

This past weekend was filled with diversions, as my divertingly long-time friend Barbara and I diverted ourselves from stress, worry, and anxiety in lovely New Hampshire.

Here’s one among many diversions I saw, yesterday, in downtown Portsmouth NH:


Puzzles and games can be pleasant and helpful diversions. Are you puzzled by that or any of the other diversions I was game enough to capture yesterday? 

                

              

                

The diversions of this past weekend were very welcome ones, especially since I can’t really divert myself from the knowledge that I’m having surgery a week from today.

Here’s a welcome diversion, though: most of my fears about next Monday’s surgery have been diverted by:

  • my trusted cardiologists, who are never diverted away from great care,
  • the non-invasive and low-risk nature of the surgery compared with heart valve surgery, which has been diverting me for about six months,
  • diverting my eyes and thoughts in new directions with Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) therapy,
  • the diversionary tactic of ignoring negative, unhelpful people, and
  • diverting my attention towards things I love.

Things I love include music, so here’s one of the best diversions I know: a most diverting tune about somebody desperately seeking diversions.

“Lush Life” — written by the divertingly talented Billy Strayhorn and performed by the divertingly epic combination of singer Johnny Hartman and saxophonist John Coltrane — provides amazing diversions on YouTube.

If you are diverted enough by the diversions in this post to offer diversions of your own in a comment, that would be most pleasantly diverting.

Diverting thanks to Barbara, New Hampshire, Portsmouth, people who live with and support others with chronic medical conditions, cardiologists Dr. Deeb Salem and Dr. Mark Estes, EMDR, Billy Strayhorn, Johnny Hartman, John Coltrane, all lives lush and non-lush, and you — of course! — for joining my diversions, here and now.

Categories: gratitude, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

Day 822: April Fools

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 761: You don’t look flu-ish

Yesterday, my venerable and long-time cardiologist, Dr. Salem — who always looks boy-ish, to me — told me to come into the hospital to get tested for endocarditis and for the flu, because I was fever-ish.

I saw a doctor — whose first name was Ann (spelled right-ish, we both agreed) — who told me I didn’t look flu-ish. She said something like,  “Most people who have the flu cannot move, they feel so blue-ish and awful-ish.” I’m sure-ish she didn’t use those exact words, but I’m close-ish.

Dr. Ann looked new-ish, but it’s difficult-ish to judge, since (1) she was wearing a mask and (2) I didn’t take a picture of her. I did take these, snap-ish-ly, when Dr. Ann’s assistant (who collects animal statues) was putting in the endocarditis orders, test-ish-ly:

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Is it me, or does that look very platypus-ish?

It’s true(-ish)  Dr. Ann and her assistant were new-ish to me, but I could tell they were both true blue-ish

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which is one motto-ish of that hospital.

I knew-ish, from past experience, that the endocarditis results would take five days to return results.  Dr. Ann told me the flu results would come back, hour-ish-ly, after I was home-ish.

I’m going to write the rest of this post quick-ish, so I can take these:

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By the way-ish, what “-ish” do those look like, to you?

When I was home-ish, I got a call from Dr. Ann that the first-ish flu test said I did NOT have the flu.

To be true-ish,  as I remained fever-ish last night, I got anxious-ish, since my fear-ish-ness then went to endocarditis.  The phone range twice-ish, but I didn’t answer.  Later-ish, I picked up a message, to find out that Dr. Ann had called back-ish, to tell me that I DID have the flu, based on the second-ish result.

Confused-ish?

So am I, since I got a flu shot at work and I still don’t feel or look horribly flu-ish.

In any case-ish, I hope-ish this music is cure-ish, for whatever ails us:

You can find that blues-ish St. James Infirmary, performed by low-down-ish Eric Clapton and Dr. John,  here-ish at You-ishTube.

Thanks-ish to you-ish, for being so true blue-ish (here and now-ish).

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , | 53 Comments

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