We are all exceptionally rare in that there is no one else exactly like us. At the same time, we share so many things in common that it is an exceptionally rare group therapy session where people don’t feel relief at discovering they are not alone in how they think and feel.
Yesterday, on my train trip home from NYC to Boston, I had an exceptionally rare, illuminating, fascinating, and totally engaging conversation with David (and his ChatGPT/AI “personal assistant” Skye) for the entire ride. David asked Skye how exceptionally rare my heart condition was and Skye responded like so:
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It occurred to me that something else about me — that I started writing original songs in my 60s — might also be exceptionally rare, so David asked Skye about that.
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I believe that Skye also compared how exceptionally rare that is to being struck by lightening, but apparently I didn’t capture that with my camera.
Here is the exceptionally rare and my wonderful new friend David:
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Here is how Skye described our exceptionally rare first encounter:
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We are living in exceptionally rare times.
It is exceptionally rare (indeed, unprecedented) that I forget to bring Daily Bitch Calendar pages when I travel, so here are the missing ones from the past few days:
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Do you see anything exceptionally rare in my other photos for today?
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On Nothing to Fear Day, I’m realizing that my young friend David is an exceptionally rare person who helped me believe yesterday that there is nothing to fear.
Here is what I find when I search for “exceptionally rare” on YouTube.
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Thanks to all my friends who are here for this exceptionally rare post, including YOU!
Yesterday, I got the scares when I noticed an indication of possible infection in my post-operative surgical wound. When I described the symptom on the phone to my medical team, the scares got worse when they told me to come back to the hospital as soon as possible.
I felt many scares during the ride back to the hospital and as I waited to be seen. These scares reminded me of the countless scares I’ve experienced as I’ve lived my life with an unusual heart condition. These scares have probably helped keep me alive, but they’ve also left some scars.
Somehow, when I get the scares, I usually think it’s my fault — that I’ve done something wrong to cause the problem. For example, I kept telling the medical people yesterday that I’d been following all the directions I’d been given for postoperative care. When they questioned me about that (“Did you get the wound wet?”) I got the scares again.
When it turned out that the scary symptom was a false alarm, the scares receded, temporarily. But, because I’m not perfect, I know scares will return.
How do I deal with these scares? Well, I express them (as I’m doing now). And I remember something somebody said in my Coping and Healing group last week:
“Fearless” doesn’t mean that you never fear. I just means that you fear less.
Do you see scares in my images for today?
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On Do Something Nice Day, I’m going to do something nice for me by telling myself “It’s not your fault.” That should help me deal with scares.
Here’s what I find when I search for “scares” on YouTube:
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Thanks to all who help me deal with scares, especially YOU!
My mother, who was very neat, did not want pets in the house, so she resisted my requests for a cat. Also, because she had a dog growing up, she couldn’t understand why I wanted a cat rather than a dog.
I couldn’t explain it to her. I just felt a connection when I looked into the eyes of a cat. I was fascinated by them, and encountering a cat anywhere always made me happy.
One day, when I was about seven years old, my father brought home a stray cat, a small tiger kitty, who had wandered into his store. I was beyond thrilled. My mother didn’t want the cat in the house so my new kitty was relegated to the garage. I remember spending hours watching that cat eat and play in the garage, so happy to finally have one.
Soon though, the cat escaped from the garage. I remember searching desperately through the neighborhood, crying as I called out for my lost kitty. When I got home, I found that my parents were frantic about my being gone so long.
My parents were particularly worried about me because I was born with a heart condition. My heart condition really needed a pacemaker, but pacemakers hadn’t been invented when I was born in 1953.
Soon after the cat in the garage ran away, I had to go into the hospital more and more as my condition got worse. The doctors tried different treatments, including yucky medication I had to take under my tongue, which speeded up my heart but made me feel really sick.
Then, when I was in the hospital for observation at age 10, I had a heart stoppage. The doctors decided to implant a pacemaker, which they had been avoiding because pacemakers were so new and really too big for a small kid like me.
When I woke up from the heart surgery that was required to implant pacemakers back then, I said to my mother, “What have I got to look forward to if I don’t have a cat?” Tears streaming down her face, she promised me a cat.
After I had recovered enough from my surgery (which by the way, was on November 22, 1963, the day President John F. Kennedy was killed), my dad took me to the local vet, who had several cats there for adoption. I chose the shyest one, who was a calico kitty I named Tuffy.
Tuffy was definitely my “personal medicine,” helping me heal and be tough enough to endure the many surgeries I needed to undergo as my pacemakers broke in every conceivable way.
Since then, I often choose shy cats who remind me of Tuffy. Our cat Harley is one of those cats. Harley, even though I feed him every morning, much prefers my husband Michael. Harley avoids me when he can, although he sometimes affords me the privilege of patting him for two seconds. Mostly, he run away from me, like I’m the enemy.
Our new cat, Joan, is not shy. I chose her because she gets along with cats, humans, AND dogs. My husband Michael loves dogs so I’m thinking there MIGHT be a dog in our future. And because Joan is not an alpha cat, she and Harley get along surprisingly well.
Joan is very rambunctious and always wants to play. Harley tolerates that, keeping her away with a hiss when he wants more personal space.
Last weekend, Joan invaded my personal space, clawing my nose when she wanted to wake me at 2 AM. Because I take anticoagulant medication (required because of the mechanical heart valve I got in 2016), Joan gave me a nose bleed that just wouldn’t quit.
So here I am, in the second week of my long-awaited vacation from work, stuck at home with a painful balloon up my nose and two cats.
And you know what? I still love cats and always will.
Do you see any cats in my images for today?
I was kind of hoping that today would be National Cat Day, but to us cat lovers, EVERY day is cat day.
The tough title of this post is inspired by the first photo I was tough enough to take yesterday, while I was doing some tough exercises at cardiac rehab:
Based on my understanding of (1) the word “tough” and (2) the staff at cardiac rehab, I assume they meant I am “strong and resilient” rather than “difficult.”
If you want me to provide citations for those two definitions of ‘tough,” one word:
Tough!
The last few months have been tough for me, as I’ve undergone several tough cardiac-related surgeries and suffered other tough slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
Apparently, I’m tough enough to take it, because here I am, writing this tough post today.
Now, some of my tough readers probably want to know how tough my day was yesterday, since I mentioned in yesterday’s tough post that I’d be seeing lots of tough doctors and getting some tough tests at my tough hospital.
I hope it won’t be too tough for you to tough it out through several other tough photos from yesterday, first.
For those of you tough enough to make it through all those tough images, here’s my news from my tough day:
The news is good. My tough doctors told me that all the tests show that I am exactly where I should be, after all the tough things I’ve been through. As a matter of fact, my tough doctor, Mark Estes (not pictured), said this to me:
We’re going to keep you going until your 90s.
While recent events have shown lots of tough people that it is VERY tough to make accurate predictions, that was not tough for me to hear.
It’s tough for me to decide which tough music to include for this tough post, so I will leave that to my tough readers.
When the going gets tough, the tough get going. The tough writer of this tough blog does need to get going, but not until I express thanks to all, with three more tough photos:
It won’t be long before I post the rest of my photos from yesterday, taken at places where I belong:
I be longing, now, for you to let your manners speak for you. That is, just ask or otherwise express any belonging thoughts or feelings in a comment, which belongs below.
What music belongs here?
Thanks to all who help me know I belong, including you!
I knew that “Yikes!” would be today’s post title when I looked at my favorite watch yesterday.
Here are just some of my reasons for saying “Yikes!” right now:
I have to go in to Boston for more surgery today, exactly six weeks after my open heart surgery at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota.
The reason I need today’s surgery is that my Implantable Cardiac Device, which I received in May 2015, caused two deaths because of early battery depletion.
I had to stop eating and drinking last night at midnight, and I am not reporting for surgery until 11:30 AM.
The weather is going to be unseasonably warm and beautiful today, but I will be otherwise occupied.
The United States presidential election, less than a week away.
The Chicago Cubs might win the World Series tonight.
If I feel up to it, I hope to sing at an Open Mic Friday night.
Because of its latest update, my iPhone no longer recognizes my thumbprint but has lots of new features which I haven’t had time to learn.
Speaking of my “improved” iPhone, here are all the other photos I took yesterday. Do any of them make you go “Yikes!”?
Yikes! The words “warming” and “naturally” in that last photo, above, are reminding me of my first therapy session since my open heart surgery. Yesterday, my therapist George and I came up with a soothing ritual to help me prepare for today’s surgery — to place both my hands over my heart, to warm and naturally soothe my still painful chest cavity.
What is making you say “Yikes!” today, in your world?
Yikes! If I actually am able to sing at an Open Mic night in two days, will I remember all these lyrics?
Yesterday, at cardiac rehab, I saw this sign on one of the exercise machines:
Here are my out-of-order thoughts about “Out of Order”:
In the past, out-of-order machines have made me feel uneasy and unsafe, because I’ve been relying on cardiac pacemakers to keep me alive since I was 10 years old.
My Boston cardiologists have ordered an operation next week to replace my current pacemaker, because other out-of-order pacemakers like it have already killed two people.
I am trying to get my thoughts and feelings in order about all this by writing in this blog, talking to friends, and consulting with experts.
I shall now show you all my other photos from yesterday, out of order:
Would I be out of order if I chose thisDuncan Sheik song out of all the tunes titled “Out of Order”?
I am not ordering you to leave a comment about this “Out of Order” post, but if you do, that would probably help me put my thoughts and feelings more in order.
Usually I end every blog post with gratitude for all who helped me in the creative process and for all my readers — of course! — but, instead, here’s another out of order photo (thanks to Mary Ann, a friend from high school):
Yesterday, I received with joy the news that my son’s student visa should be received with joy at our home by 10:30 this morning. The University of Edinburgh in Scotland now gets to receive with joy my fabulous son, who is starting a five-year mathematics program there.
Please receive with joy today’s page from this joyful book:
Please take notice that I notice more than one thing I am being given today and that I am receiving them all with joy:
Precious time with my only child before he leaves for school tomorrow.
A boyfriend who often says, “See Ann? Everything is coming together!”
Work that I love.
Wonderful friends and family.
An extensive network of dedicated medical professionals.
A heart that has served me well for 63 years.
All my feelings.
The opportunity to share these other photos with you:
With reckless abandon, I here and now decide what the title of today’s post will be, based on this sign I saw yesterday:
With reckless abandon, I shall now reveal that:
I hope to embrace the stressful events of the next few weeks with reckless abandon.
These stressful events include waiting for the delivery of a student visa (which I hope hasn’t been recklessly abandoned in some government building in NYC), my son starting a five-year program at the University of Edinburgh, and my having open heart surgery at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota.
Yesterday I recklessly abandoned all attempts to prepare myself for the upcoming events and instead spent the day with my fabulous Philadelphia-based friend Jeanette (who abandoned Boston to move to Washington D.C. sixteen years ago, but I I still miss her every day).
Jeanette, who courageously abandons any fear of speaking her mind, recklessly told my boyfriend Michael yesterday that he has to teach my son Aaron how to cook two easy meals this week.
Michael recklessly promised Jeanette that he would.
I am recklessly going to include photos of Jeanette and other people I’ve recklessly mentioned in this post, so don’t abandon me yet!
Are you ready for the reckless abandon of my other photos from yesterday, as I recklessly abandon any intention of further explaining them?
Which of those photos say “reckless abandon” to you?
I hope you show some reckless abandon by leaving a comment, below.
Before I recklessly abandon you all until tomorrow morning’s blog post, I’d like to express gratitude to those who helped me create this post and to you — of course! — with reckless abandon.
