Less than Invincible

The first thing I thought about when contemplating writing this is “What would Lil BUB do?” And I realize that Lil BUB would write this somewhat personal post that makes me look less than invincible. So, I will write it.

A cardiologist has recently diagnosed me with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. This means that my heart muscle has stiffened up and my blood flow has some backsplash. I have obvious heart murmurs. I have likely had it for at least two years, because there’s evidence of it in a stress cardiogram two years ago when the doctor had apparently missed it. It means that I get winded easier (but that could also be because I am big and out of shape). I’m being treated with a simple higher dose of blood pressure medication; it is irreversible, but we can keep it from getting worse.

Mayo Clinic, on their website, says that I will have almost as long a life as if I didn’t have it. Almost. That’s a sobering word, and it hints at an eventual demise not as pleasant as I had been hoping for. I’m 60, however, at the age when things like this develop. Other sources discuss other treatments for it in case it gets worse. Many of these are invasive.

I can’t quite grasp what I’m reading. Some sources (such as Mayo and my cardiologist, make it sound like it is not a big deal, while others make it sound dire. Mayo says most cases are familial, but my cardiologist says I would have lots of people dying young in my family if mine were so.

I’m not used to not knowing. I will talk to my primary care physician when I can get in, and maybe then I will understand. In the meantime, I will lose weight and take my hypertension medicine. But I feel fragile now, older, less certain of life.

But what would Lil BUB do? She would go on living her life with a joyous, silly smile.

The Health Scare

“That’s an interesting murmur you got there.” So said the PA as she moved the stethoscope around my chest.

“I’ve never had a murmur before.” My dad had a murmur, which eventually caused him a lot of problems, but he was born with it. I couldn’t believe that a murmur would hit me out of nowhere, like a Mack truck barrelling down the highway.

But my doctor is going to schedule me an echocardiogram when she gets back from vacation. I personally don’t think she’s going to find anything. It just seems so improbable to me. And I don’t want to think about what would cause it. It could be nothing, it could be heart disease, it could be something the doctors have missed all along.

I’ll go to my echo, and see what it’s all about. Hopefully it’s nothing.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

Of the Proselytizers

Beneath the shimmer of russet leaves,
lies a cunning rabbit snare, and
entwining the trees, poison ivy 
blushes crimson. 

Beware the idyllic seeming of the tavern
nearby; the innkeeper steals souls
with a goblet of mead. 
The customers
hold knives, hiding them with smiles.
They invite you to the kirk in the grove
where they flay you with words, oaths,
and ancient spars of wood.

Best to avoid this land, despite the
enticing invitation, the siren song
pitched to the maw of your heart.
Instead, step with sure feet to your destination,
holding yourself in your thoughts. 
Make peace with the wound
in your heart. Know there are many paths
to find blessings.

Spring in my Heart

Almost March, and the snow still lies in dirtied drifts on the ground, piled person-high at the edges of parking lots. The wind chills are more often than not in the single digits. Usually, by now, the snow pack has gone and the days fool one into thinking Spring has come early. My peas are supposed to be planted on St. Patrick’s Day, and I don’t know if the snow will be gone by then, much less the soil warm enough.

In short, I am sick of winter.

I want something new. Like many Americans, I think I want a new pretty thing. I replaced my iPhone 6 Plus after three or four years with a refurbished iPhone 8 Plus, and I’m already accustomed to its shiny new look. That’s the problem with new things — we step on the hedonic treadmill, buy shiny new things, and feel happy until that happiness, hedonic happiness, quickly fades.

I want a new thing for my soul. I want to plant peas on St. Patrick’s Day and watch them grow. I want to see my books progress toward being printed. I want to find a new challenge that absorbs me.

If I can’t have Spring outside, I would like Spring in my heart.

The World Needs Your Novel

Are you familiar with NaNoWriMo? NaNoWriMo (or NaNo for short) is an annual writing contest where there are no prizes but a certificate and the only one you’re competing against is yourself. The name comes from a contraction of “National Novel Writing Month” but has grown far beyond its bounds, with international reach.

Every November, thousands of writers and aspiring writers unite over the Web for NaNo. Each will write toward a goal of a written work of 50,000 words. In October 2016 (the last year for which data is available), almost 400,000 participants worldwide participated, with 34,000 people finishing the 50,000 word goal (Office of Letters and Light, 2016). The NaNo website provides blurbs of advice from writers, encouragement emails, and forums where people can ask for advice, seek information, and at times lament lack of progress.

The motto of NaNo is “The World Needs Your Novel”, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that the world needs your novel to be published. With Google making research easy and the boom in potential writers, those who seek an agent may never get one and those who self-publish may find their works mouldering in a corner of the Internet. Nowadays, having your work read may be more a matter of search engine optimization than the quality of your writing.

I struggle with this all the time. I do not write for the market; I write from my heart, which is deep and quirky. My heroes are pacifists and horticulturists. Nobody has rippling muscles; my sexiest hero is androgynous. I persist, however, in writing and posting some of my works on Wattpad and sending manuscripts to agents who tell me “It’s not you, it’s me”.

I persevere because, deep down, I believe the world needs my novel. Not in a way that makes me famous (Fame actually makes me nervous). But in a way that makes people take a deep breath and think. And feel. And look at things like pacifism, environmentalism. and love differently than before. All I need to do is get my writing into their hands.

And there we are — back to the hard part.

Office of Letters and Light (2017). Press release 2017. Available: https://nanowrimo.org/press. [April 14, 2018].