Off to see the wizard ...

‘Are your breasts real?’ the technologist* asked, scanning my questionnaire and not even looking at my chest. ‘All mine,’ I replied and thus began my latest foray into the wonderful world of medicine. Peculiar question, but apparently they need to know your density (and size) for scanning purposes … unless perhaps this was an oddly veiled pickup line. (*A technologist works WITH machines; a technician works ON machines. I just had to ask the difference, you know.)

Then, having been refused caffeine for 24 hours (gasp!) and all food and water since dawn, and driving three and a half hours to Santa Barbara, I was placed in a room to ‘relax’ for 45 minutes -- which was not all that easy because I was cold, thirsty, hungry, and had only one ancient New Yorker magazine to read (and although their jokes are funny, their articles can be really long and boring!) .

After relaxing, I then got an injection of radioactive goop (for the 90-millionth time in two weeks. I bet my pee glows) and laid in a really comfy recliner while this massive v-shaped camera hovered over my chest and hummed, sending 3D pictures of my heart 'at rest' to a friendly Tech who showed me some of his best fishing trophy pictures and talked about catching bugs (aka Pacific lobsters).

Next was the treadmill part of the test, so they wired me up allover my chest and tummy. Now, I’d worn clean gym clothes, lugged my sneakers, socks and a headband, and was all ready for a workout, but they decided that, due to the aforementioned problem in my noggin, they would chemically induce my exertion instead of having me bust loose on the treadmill. Prudent, but disappointing!

As if to show off, I started walking at the prescribed deathmarch pace and chided, ‘When do you pick it up?’ as Jon the Tech leaned in to administer another radioactive dye, and shoot me up with the exertion drug. I continued to chat briefly as the two Techs watched and suddenly, WHOMP! I felt as if someone had thrown a 100-lb sack of goat feed at me. 'We're in!' Jon called out to the recording techs ... meanwhile, I could hardly breathe, my heart was pounding, and that virtual bag of feed was getting heavier by the minute. They continued to collect my data and suddenly I was done …but still feeling as if an elephant was standing on my (very real) chest.

The Doctor came in, a blur of aftershave and Italian Vogue, and I blurted out ‘nice shoes’. They were exceptionally pointy and shiny, and possibly the only shoes of their kind in all of Santa Barbara County. He shook my hand and acknowledged me as ‘Miss Crowfoot of the funky EKG’ and whizzed out with a promise to call me tonight if he saw anything catastrophic. (He has not rung.)

In between all these processes there are lengthy wait periods, as cardiology is a very brisk business! Finally they brought me back to the reclining chair, where my heart ‘under stress’ got filmed, while Jon showed me a big wahoo he’d landed in Cabo, and a world-record halibut that had just been caught in Alaska.

I feel like a character from the Wizard of Oz; with people checking my brain, my heart, and testing my courage … but I’m really thankful for the amazing capabilities of modern medical science, and how lucky we are to live in a time and place where people can shoot you up til you glow in the dark and then take 3D movies of your heart … and for the kindness and compassion of all the nurses and techs and receptionists who tread so lightly on wobbly people like me.

Mostly, I still feel like I’m carrying a sack of feed around, and am exhausted ! So, apologies for this somewhat boring meaningless blog – it is more of an update than anything and, thankfully, proof that I’m home, doing alright, and not in that big white building with the lovely nurses, tonight ….

THURS AUG 12 -
... and ... just got the call from the Dr., scan was fine, 'got the green light to go sailing today! :-D
thanks for all the prayers and kind words!

Keeping the faith

I sketched a self portrait today, based on a photo of me sitting on a motorcycle. The windshield has become a bejeweled armor of silver and gold in my left hand; instead of the throttle, I’ve got a sword in my right. I’m poised with a foot on one rock, with my massive wings (that make me fly really fast) towering over my head. My head radiates a beam of divine light. I am wearing a white robe, pink sunglasses, and smiling. I am a superhero for God.

I did this after church today: where I felt once more as if the spotlight was aimed at my head and the minister was speaking directly to me … Pastor Doyle talked about ‘Living a Heroic Life’. This is the word I was grasping for last night as I penned my journal. HEROIC. Not as in superheroes with fluttering capes and bizarre powers, but heroes who plug away, every day, and keep moving forward, in spite of ( insert obstacle here ). I want to live a heroic life that inspires, teaches or uplifts. I’m sure all these challenges are not for naught. There must be something redeeming in all this insanity!

He talked of rejecting resignation in the face of challenge; and maintaining a readiness, and the resilience, to go on. He pointed to the life of Joseph -- who was sold into slavery by his own brothers. Even so, Joseph kept the faith and kept doing the right thing; because he believed there was a bigger plan. And there was. (Joseph was eventually released by the Pharaoh, became a bigwig, and his vision and actions kept the people of Egypt - and his own family - alive during a seven year famine.)

It is so easy to resign yourself to fate, to lose sight of the path in the everyday muddle of difficulties. How many times have I had to ‘recover’? How many times have I had to ‘start over again’? But I am not a quitter: I feel there IS a bigger plan. Maybe I don’t know what it is, but I have definitely learned over the years to bank on God. And I certainly don't need any more 'reminders' to get my attention: I'm all ears Lord.

The one thing I’m not is miserable. I am so full of joy, despite these hiccups. (If there were a ‘World’s Best Hospital Patient’ reality show, I would be the winner. Seriously.) Okay, so I have a few mopey moments and instances of sheer panic and terror, but they are fleeting. (What’s the point?) My resilience has become formidable over the past years (although bravery is still something I'm working on ...) -- thanks to a whirlwind of travels, experiences, health issues, and near misses I could never have envisioned -- not of my own ability, but God’s – that’s for sure. And now I am poised to face whatever’s next. I’ve got my shield and sword at the ready: I am ready to kick some a**

ILLUSTRATON: okay this is a truly dodgy photo because my camera is cr*p, but you get the gist. YES my bejeweled shield has a headlight. Awesome isn't it?!

The healing effects of nature

I lean back, eyes closed, the warmth of the sun penetrating even as fresh ocean zephyrs tickle my skin. The knock-knock-knock of a woodpecker punctuates the rustle of leaves; I hear the surround-sound of a hummingbird buzz from left to right and the insistent ‘caw’ of peacocks lumbering through the brush. The pounding of my headache lessens; my fluttering heart calms its’ worrying rhythm. For the first time in days my body begins to feel at peace.

I go for a walk. Derrick the dog leads– although lazily, in the midday sun - while Sally the cat follows several yards behind, squeaking out her meows as if to complain, ‘Wait for me!’

The road is hedged thick with greenery adorned with pale violet blooms and pumpkin-colored bougainvillea. Mustard carpets the hillsides and blends with the monochromatic chaparral. The braying of donkeys is carried in the cool breeze. At my feet, corpulent succulents bear tiny fuchsia flowers and hum with bees. All around are signs of life!

“The Lord is my shepherd … he makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters …” Interesting how in Psalm 23 David evokes a pastoral scene of nature, calming his fears. Not the 101/405 freeway interchange, or a skyscraper in Manhattan, but the cool verdant splendor of earth. And today, in this setting, with the panoramic backdrop of the bluest sea, I feel as if I can walk forever.

God built this world to us, and for us, Genesis tells: gathering the dry land from the seas; bringing forth grass and fruit trees, “and God saw that it was good.” It is both the food that nourishes us and the medicine for what ails us. I bask in this comfort.

“The LORD will guide you continually, and satisfy your soul in drought, and strengthen your bones; You shall be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.” (Isaiah 58:11)

Thank you all for your love and good wishes … it’s working! For the first time in three weeks I don’t have a headache! This is epic! Keep those prayers coming … I am certainly sending some back your way.

I’m chilling and house/critter sitting at the McJones’ in Portuguese Bend (Palos Verde Peninsula). They have an amazing home: the lower floor made of three shipping containers, with a circular staircase going up around a central post from which they can lift the entire house (landslide area)! The decor is warm and eclectic, as many of the components are recycled ... such as the mahogany office doors standing side-to-side that create the master bedroom wall. It’s comfortable and very peaceful, with an expansive ocean view, fresh breezes, and quiet – except for the cry of the peacocks that are abundant around here.

Hope life is peaceful on your end too.

PHOTO: by Coco, of me 'working' on the deck overlooking the Pacific

The * gift * of life

I refuse to let my life be reduced to a small bubble in my head, and am getting weary of dwelling on this, so pardon me for the blog-cast but here it is:

My condition is a fusiform enlargement of the basilar artery. It’s not your normal bump-in-the-road aneurysm, which is treated by coiling or snipping ... so Dr Z 'dismissed' me because his expertise is in coiling (filling the pothole from the inside out) and there’s not much we can do about this (although he did a super job with the angiogram and didn’t make any wrong turns on the way to my brain). Sat’y evening – having retched all the morphine and anesthesia out of my system - Connie picked me up from Cottage and I got to ride in the silver sex machine with the top down ;-) to Simi where I had a relaxing night. ‘Went to a BBQ Sunday, didn’t drop dead, took it easy, let everyone wait on me hand and foot and fawn all over me, and stayed in Simi in the hopes of getting back in to see the funny neurologist (Dr Y) Monday.

Being the lucky girl I am, Dr Y had a cancellation this morning so we drove like the wind to get there. (And I was scolded for being late: he being the ONLY doctor on the planet who is concerned about being on time)

The short story is: we don’t know how long I’ve had this condition, how bad it is or not, if the artery walls are weak or not, if it’s getting worse or static … really we don’t know too much at all. What we do know is that it hasn’t leaked - as I had two imaging CT scans, an imaging MRI and angiogram all within three days so we would know – so this is really good. (Although all that iodine does nasty things to your innards:-P) So now, we have a baseline, and follow up with more exciting imaging tests in six months.

In the meantime, Dr Y is all about not stressing out, and taking things one step at a time. I’m on some new meds to quash the headache and keep my arteries all loosey goosey and my blood pressure (which is already impressive) down. My cholesterol and BP and general health are superb anyway, so I just need to keep that happening, and stay hydrated and stress free. FINALLY I have an excuse to just stick out my hand and say ‘what-ever…’ when drama arises. Sweet!

I can start ramping up my activities again – perhaps not at the breakneck pace I was at before - and see how it all goes. All in all life is great! I have my daughter back, I’ve met a wonderful man, and – as if I ever needed to test this – I have affirmed the affection and dedication of my friends and family. I feel well loved.

Initially I thought I was despondent over the thought of any more medical issues ... but I got over that QUICK! Now, I'm just determined to figure out how to live with this: the operable word being LIVE.

IMAGES: #1 - sketch made by Dr Z, #2 - oh yeah, that is Cameron Diaz, not me - we get mixed up so often, doing her 'talk to the hand' dance

PIROUETTE!

There are pivotal moments in life and this, I gather is one.

A jarring halt to the track I’ve been on – and wow, what an about-face from my grand adventure traipsing, sailing, zipping and leaping off rocks throughout South America last year. But I’m not fearful, just trying to get my head around the fact that God has pulled the rug out from beneath my feet (again) … and from my perspective I see only blue skies, as I am keenly sitting on my ass looking upwards.

Headaches … really explosive, uncharacteristic ones, onset by stress or exertion, had me concerned. I went to the doc. After a lot of dribble like “women your age (hmph!) get headaches from changing hormones blah blah blah …” I convinced him that this recurring sensation, like a scene from KILL BILL: where my head splits open like an exploding coconut, and fire hoses of blood gush out my ears, was not normal. ‘Got the referral to the neurologist. ‘Got the referral for the CT scan. ‘Got the call from the neurologist saying ‘Don’t get on that boat …” followed by the call from the surgeon saying “Maybe you should have someone drive you to ER …” Okay so, I got roto-rootered up my femoral artery, there’s an aneurysm, and we’re making plans for further diagnostics and tweaking my lifestyle a titch, moving forward.

My first point (since I’m still alive and kicking) is that you should listen to your body and trust your instincts, and avail yourself to all the miracles of modern medicine and science your insurance company will tolerate (and then some).

But after that though, my real point is: there is a plan. And perchance we don’t really know what it is, or need help getting on the right path, or maybe it just switches tracks – like a locomotive – when it gets to a certain juncture; and it might feel like you’re veering off path, but in fact, this is the plan all along.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

As for me, I’m faced with a turn of events which is in utter contrast to my aggressive campaign to get stronger faster more competitive and leap tall buildings with a single bound. But I’m getting with the program, and embracing it. Maybe it’s a big whopping change, or maybe just some chill out time to work on my book(s) and other things. Like relationships, and being grounded, and growing. My friend Bronny points out ‘This is to slow you down a little.” A little, I grasp onto. And not necessarily forever. So I will make the most of these gentle days: take some time to smell the roses, and explore, and see what sweet things are in store for me in the future.

“For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” – Ephesians 2:10.

Ladies' sail to Catalina

July 23

The first thing I did – well, after we motored for four hours under flimsy grey skies, got the boat through the narrow catawampus of cans, and moored, got the dinghy launched (and swiftly winched back up because the plug wasn’t in) and hatches opened, and devoured some Chinese chicken salad and rosé – was to sleep. I dragged my sweatshirt and tired ass to the bow, laid on a bundled spinnaker with my sweatshirt wrapped over my shoulders and eyes, and slept, despite the cold breeze that lifted and fell erratically through the bay. I slept soundly until I heard the call: “All boats in!” from the boy’s camp ashore. “All boats in!” came the reply from port, “All boats in!” from starboard, and then repeated in the strong tenors of young men throughout the cove. Lidos overflowing with youngsters paddled and sailed by in the waning breeze of the late day; I eased upright, rested, and got ready for the evening’s revelries.

Below deck the Makeup Wars had begun. The intermittent splash of showers, the drone of the blow drier, the dance of towel-clad women scurrying back and forth like busses in Times Square, to get ready, bearing Nebuchadnezzars of hairspray, the lacquer and fragrance wafting topside.

“Does anyone want a drink?” Iris sings out. Barb reminds her to fly the cocktail hour flag: a string of panties, off the burgee halyard at the shroud. But the only ones I have worthy of public viewing are on, and I defer: lest they drive the men wild I tease. Instead, we let the lovely fragrance of shampoos and lotions fill the air in the main salon (how appropriate) and as it does I figure I’d better get serious about getting gussied up too, for our annual dinner and dancing outing at the Harbor Reef: a dusty dirty open air saloon on the edge of an island in California.