Stuck in the middle

I am conflicted every day! I think I am at an odd point in my life, sort of in the middle of everything. For instance, I can't really wear clothes from the juniors department and clothing from the women's department have hems that are just too high or saggy. I'm not really feeling the teeny bopper pop rock and classic rock is only partially tolerable. The music I like is too new for classic rock or oldies and is too old to be played on an AZ radio station, as evidenced by 103.9 switching from alternative rock to a 3rd classic rock station. There seems to be a clear deliniation between those who have almost-grown kids and those just starting to have kids. Well, I must be that line because I have neither. I want to be fiscally responsible and prepare for a comfortable retirement but I am not immune to the pressures to "keep up with the Jones'". The middle is truly an uncomfortable place to be!

Cougar Suit Christmas

It's Christmas Eve and I am preparing to load the car and spend the evening with my family. I will be wearing a fleece cheetah print onsie...we decided to have a pajama party this year. For 31 years, I have carefully picked out my Christmas Eve attire, and every year I have changed into comfortable clothes as soon as possible. We stuff ourselves with food and suddenly the nice skirt, dress, slacks, etc are more like medieval corsets trying to squeeze the last bit of substance from abdomen. So, why not just start the evening right? Hideous onsie PJs?

Another thing I have noticed today is that our Christmas tree appears to have vomited. There are piles of "things" wrapped in festive holiday paper coming from every part of our tree. It's unbelievable and a little disconcerting. Christmas is different than it was years ago. I can honestly say that there is not much that I want. I don't need or desire gifts. But, I do enjoy getting gifts for others. I like my rule: most gifts should be items that the person has no idea they want or need. It frustrates me when I get "stuck" on someone and can't decide on a good gift. The back up plan is always a gift card, but even then I hate buying obvious gift cards so I search for unique cards. Ultimately, I really just like spending the evening with my family. I enjoy the environment now that all of my siblings and cousins are adults, and so far there aren't any little babies crawling around. I like my cousins and brothers and all of the significant others that come along.

Christmas also makes me more pensive than usual. Weighing heavy on my mind today is one of lives' biggest quandaries. Why was I chosen to live a comfortable life? Why do I have Christmas tree vomit in my living room? A warm house? Spoiled dogs? A great family? People who love me? More "things" that I need? America's freedom? Freedom from a Burka? The list is long. I'm grateful for sure, but I could have just as easily been born to a young single mother in an African village without clean drinking water.

So, whatever the reason for my luck, I am so thankful. Now I am going to proudly wear my cougar suit out for a relaxing eve with my favorite people.

Death in an Elevator

I spend a lot of time in elevators. I should use the stairs more often but sometimes I just want to lean on the elavator wall and "rest" for just a moment. Observing the behavior of others is entertaining, and clearly not everyone has been taught appropriate elevator etiquette. It really is more fun than people watching in the airport, which is not as accessible as it was before 9/11.

Today, I was sure that I met my killer in the M.O.B (medical office bldg) elevator. It was a man about 6 feet tall and 200 pounds. I became aware of his presense in the parking garage and for some reason I made a mental note to watch him. I guess my sympathetic nervous system kicked in and I was ready for "fight or flight". There was no obvious reason that my neurons should start firing. He was rather ragged but not in a dirty way. He wore leather and carried a bag with a skull drawn in silver puff paint. His hair was short and had the beginnings of a full beard. All in all, nothing obviously out of the ordinary. Yet, he concerned me.

I normally try to choose my elevator wisely, always looking for the one with the least amount of fellow riders. Today was my lucky day, I got on an empty elevator and prepared for 7 floors of shut eye. But, with only a few inches left before the door closed completely a hand shot through the space and a gruff voice yelled, "hold the door". I didn't hold the door, I rarely do. He made it in anyways. It was the man from the garage. A sort of 6th sense swept over me and I was convinced that I was going to die at the hands of this man. Obviously, I wasn't killed. The man didn't even look at me.

I don't think that I am a paranoid person. I am always VERY aware of my surroundings but I think that is just because I am street smart. I see a lot of shit in my job and at my hospital that has desensitized me to some terrible things. So, why was I filled with paranoia today? Perhaps it is because I have spent the last 4 days reading crime/mystery novels and watching conspiracy type movies?

Radiation Beak

It has been more than 48 hours since I developed a classified super power! It is different than I expected. I was convinced that I would go about my conventional daily routine with nothing more than the occasional memory that I was now different. Of course, I planned on spending my at home time in quarantine so as not to wreak havoc on the functioning thyroids of my family members, dogs included. However, I did not expect to feel guilty with possibly tainting those poor souls who happened to enter my 3 foot force field of gamma rays. So I took my special pill and ran a few errands. I found myself purposefully catching my reflection in mirrors and glass , as if I would suddenly see a neon glow around my body. Most unforeseen was the strong amount of guilt I began to experience. Did I now possess a super power that was capable of sabotaging the health of others? Was I walking biological warfare? I didn't deliberate about this idea long, rather I went immediately home and into quarantine. I even turned a blind eye to the jumping and yipping of my excited dogs.

I am gamma beak! (Beak?? you just have to know me) I haven't detected an unusual glowing but I keep looking! I am expecting my tears or saliva to light up like a yellow glow stick. Radiation is a peculiar medical treatment, in that I don't feel any different, but I have 10 days of rules to follow in order to limit radiation exposure to others. Eventually, I might get a sore throat, which I will welcome. It will do more to convince me that I didn't actually swallow a sugar pill. 48 hours and counting in quarantine. It has made me think, mostly about solitary confinement as a form of torture or punishment. 

I recently watched a documentary on solitary confinement in prisons and I was left with a sense of disgust. I couldn't believe that human beings were put into a dark room, alone, with NO human contact for years! We are social creatures from birth. We require interactions with other humans to develop normally. Studies performed with monkeys have shown us that social isolation following birth can cause a state of shock characterized by autistic like behaviors: clutching oneself and rocking. Brain EEGs (the test where a bunch of electrodes are hooked up to your head) have shown diffuse slowing after just one week in solitary confinement. This can be likened to the type of slowing seen on EEGs of people who have delirium. In fact, the brain of a man held in solitary confinement has been compared to one that has suffered traumatic brain injury. Solitary confinement can be devastating to one's ability to regulate emotions.  Prisoners have reported "losing their minds", hallucinations, intense aversion to sounds, obsessive compulsive behaviors, and panic. Studies have shown that up to 90% of men held in solitary confinement develop irrational anger. Even more horrifying was the realization that many of these men (yes, almost all are men) are released from prison, into the free world, immediately after spending countless years in solitary confinement. Upon release, they are frequently unable to organize their lives, appropriately interact with others and it is almost guaranteed that they will end up back in prison and solitary. Sadly, America LOVES solitary confinement and previous attempts to regulate this practice have failed. Torture is clearly legal in America!

Obviously my quarantine is nothing like solitary confinement, but even 2 days away from people and my dogs has made me tired and sad. Only one more full day and I will be free....mostly. 

How To Use and Elevator

How to use an elevator:
1. Push the up or down arrow ONCE...repeatedly pushing the button does not make the elevator come faster. It also does not help to push an already lit up button.
2. Wait patiently
3. Move to the side an allow people from inside the elevator to exit
4. Calmly walk into the elevator and push the button for your floor ONCE
5. Stand quietly and wait for your floor
6. Repushing your floor number at each stop does not make the process faster
7. Exit the elevator onto your floor

Common elevator courtesies:
1. If you can walk and the stairs are next to the elevator and you are just going up or down one floor, you should probably take the stairs.
2. Smoking before entering the elevator makes asthmatics wheeze and others want to vomit
3. Perfume gives everyone a headache
4. Control you kids
5. Do not hold the elevator for your family that is still unloading from the car. Just wait.

The elevator is the cause of so many daily frustrations. It makes me angry.

Life Changes

Life can change in the blink of an eye. This isn't a new thought but it has never meant as much to me as it does now. While 2011 hasn't been terrible, it certainly hasn't been smooth sailing. I have learned a lot about human behavior and response to difficulty. I have responded to situations in far different ways than I would have ever expected. I have been inspired by the way other people have responded to their own trials. Throughout my life I have found comfort in the words my parents used to alleviate my childhood anxiety, "God doesn't give you things you can't handle". I'm sure those weren't the exact words but you get the point. So, of course I believed that I was safe from serious illness or trauma..."NO way could I handle cancer or major surgery..." But then again I was pretty sure that I would slip into a very deep depression, necessitating a feeding tube for nutritional needs, when Paisley died. I somehow managed to grieve the loss of my soul dog while maintaining my adult duties, which included eating.

Now I will likely be faced with  the subjects of my worst nightmares. Since learning of the hole in my heart I have done what any dedicated nurse practitioner and knowledge seeker would do. I have read EVERYTHING about congenital heart defects. That right there is a shocking thing by itself. I have a congenital heart defect...it sounds strange. I know all about the 3 types of ASDs and the associated defects. I know why people aren't always diagnosed in childhood. I know the difference between PFOs and PDAs and VSDs and ToF and PS and PVR and Mustard procedures and OHS etc. I know that there are only 2 ACHD clinics in AZ. I know that ACHD stands for adult congenital heart defect. I know about shunts and pressures.  I am also beginning to believe that I might not have any idea what "normal" is related to cardiac health. Things that I thought were totally normal or possibly related to high anxiety are actually more likely caused by this damn hole in my heart. Seriously, it is not normal to feel your heart beating ALL of the time?!

Unfortunately, it is the things that I don't yet know keeping me awake at night. Wednesday can't come soon enough! I can't wait to have a moderately invasive and highly uncomfortable (if I am not properly sedated) test completed so that my cardiologist can tell me exactly what kind of hole I have, how big it is, where it is located, and how it will need to be fixed.  No matter what, I just want it fixed NOW. I want to move past this detour in my life and recover. I am excited and full of optimism that if I no longer have a hole in my heart I just might turn into a VERY active person. With 6 pack abs and the ability to run a half marathon even though I hate running! Maybe I will develop a love for pounding the pavement. How cool would it be if I were able to hike without fear of quitting early or embarrassing myself with a slow pace? I have just accepted in life that I wasn't blessed with amazing athletic ability. For the most part I have payed attention to my fitness throughout life but was always perplexed with the disconnect between my effort put forth and objective measures of physical fitness. So the constant "what if I need open heart surgery to repair my heart" question that is circling in my head is tempered with my hopes of becoming an amazing sheet of muscle!

ASD PFO VSD BBC

I have a tendency to obsess! My mind can get stuck, moving in rapid circles trying to analyze and conceptualize one subject. This is especially true for health related topics. My job plays into this weakness, or possibly strength I have been given. Give me an obscure clinical picture and I will not only look for possible zebras but also for the unicorns. Horses are boring. More all-consuming and detrimental to my overall well-being is my own health, or rather threats of health decline. Basically, I have a hole in my heart. It has been years, actually more than a decade, since I have had vague cardiac symptoms. Cardiac workups were all relatively normal and it was all blamed on anxiety. "You are just sensitive to catecholamines." Great! I have since accepted that and lived with it. Normal for me is fast heart rate, awareness of every heart beat, shortness of breath with minimal activity and a general sense of being more tired than others. But I have done a good job of ignoring and compensating and living. But now I have learned that there really is a problem...a congenital heart defect...a hole...I don't know exactly what kind or how big this hole is yet. I need another test first. I have earned the most amazing opportunity to have a long probe shoved down my esophagus to get a good look at my heart. I am sure this will feel awesome! (sarcasm) Actually, I really shouldn't feel anything or be aware of anything with the right mix of sedatives. The looming question is, "How will it need to be repaired?" I have found peace with a cath lab repair but am a bit leery of an open heart repair. So I am hoping, praying, and crossing my fingers for cath lab repair. Open heart will take an influx of strength, trust and faith...and probably some daily anxiolytics prior to surgery. My mom and Hez will probably need some too! So hope for a PFO, accept the liklihood of an ASD but hope for ostium secondum asd, doubt the vsd and come on BBC-Your show, "Luther", is way too short! 10 episodes in 2 seasons? You have sucked me in and I am obsessed. Now you make me wait for season 3. mean.