Category Archives: stone shaped heart

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Eating his words

After today’s international zoom on Cardiovascular Complications of Long Covid, I am thinking about one of my former partners. An ex-partner.

I got influenza in 2003. I was working full time plus all the call, had two small children, my mother had died two years before of cancer, and I was worrying about my marriage. Quite a stress load. I got influenza, running a temperature of 104 for a week and tachycardic. My heart rate was 100 at rest instead of my normal 62, and when I walked across the room slowly, it went up to the 130s or above and I got short of breath. I did not figure that out the fast heart rate immediately.

I tried to go back to work a week after I was out. By lunch time I thought, I feel like I’m dying. I stuck the pulse oximeter on my finger. My heart rate standing was 135. Oh. Normal is 60-100 and 135 is not ok. It’s exhausting. My office manager chose that moment to call me into her office and scold me for missing work. I was so freaked out by my heart rate that I did not show ANYONE in my clinic. I left and went to my physician, upstairs in the same building.

The tachycardia continued for two months.

I didn’t understand it, my Family Practice doctor didn’t understand it, and my partners accused me of malingering and were pissed. My instinct was to lie on the couch, so that’s what I did. Rest and wait. That level of tachycardia makes a person anxious, so my communication skills were challenged. After six weeks, I had an echocardiogram, which was normal EXCEPT for a fast heart rate. After two months, it went away. I staggered back to work, still frail and tired, and still down ten pounds.

One of my partners said, “I could understand you being out two months for heart disease or cancer, but not for influenza.”

At the time I didn’t say anything. That comment really, really hurt. I told myself that I should TRY to be a nice person and not wish that he would get a bad case of pneumonia with tachycardia. That took some major effort on my part.

Now with all the people with a fast heart rate after Covid-19, he can eat his words.

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Rescue

A friend stops speaking to me. Nearly a year ago. I particularly mind because this person said, “We will always be friends, no matter what.” I am skeptical of always/never statements, but I want it to be true.

I run across him and he is in trouble. He has boxes, cases, six by four by six feet. Stuff he finds valuable, though it’s not anything I value. He is outside with the cases and is being threatened, told to hand them over.

It’s not a dramatic rescue. I just walk up and say “Hi,” to him. I am there, I am a witness, I look over my shoulder. There isn’t anyone else with me, but the implication is there. The threatening person leaves.

The former friend looks at me. “We’d better get the boxes inside,” I say, “Until you can move them.” We are by my house. “You can have upstairs and I’ll take the basement.” He looks uncomfortable, but he can’t leave his valuables on the street. “Or I will take upstairs and you the basement.” He still looks awkward. “Ok, or we can both be on the same floor, I don’t care.” He looks away. He says, “If we are on the same floor, I will want to kiss you.”

“Oh,” I say, and wake up. It’s a dream. It’s not him. It’s what my brain thinks he could/should be? Good luck with that.

Still, I decide that we should be on different floors. He has not spoken to me for a year and I don’t trust the friendship and certainly no kissing. I want him out of my house as soon as he can arrange transport for the four boxes. If he wants to renew the friendship then, he can contact me.

However, there is a shift in me. How odd that a dream can do that. I feel less upset about the whole thing. I like the version of him that my dream brought me, even though it isn’t real. It’s real in my dreams. Maybe that is enough. I feel more comfortable and happy.

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I took the photograph two days ago at Rialto Beach. The Hole in the Wall rock looks like a giant elephant. My daughter and I hiked the beach and camped for a night near by.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: karma.

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Laid bare

My mind and heart talk daily, argue back and forth.
They takes sides on everything and often disagree.
Why is this such a threat to some, what crooked course
makes them hate my inner talk with such intensity?
I thank you for the clarity, discussion and the clues.
The angry bear that attacks you in your sleep.
I see the split and wonder what to do.
The bear protects your heart, hidden deep.
I hug the bear and monsters through bars of steel.
The silly mind thinks feelings are controlled.
Buried and locked away but every day more real.
Under horror, grief and pain lies the gold.
Each must heal the split by going in alone
Invite the bears and monsters of the heart to come back home.

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Stone heart

My mind is done and unsurprised. My heart a stubborn rock.
My heart does not give up: loves where it loves. It doesn’t care
about reality or whether it is derided or mocked.
My mind moves on and kicks my heart, wondering where
this tenacity stems from. My heart is done with tears.
It agrees to new friends and joys in dance.
When my mind says forget, my heart jumps and steers
my body into a warrior fighting stance.
My mind is cynical and laughs and derides my heart.
I let them fight back and forth every day.
I cannot reach an end unless I start
to honor my feelings, the heart must hold sway.
My mind moves on, ignoring what you do.
Yet my stubborn heart remains a friend, strong and true.

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Words

Always, perfect, us, and forever
A part of me stands back wondering why
I want to believe but cannot almost ever
He tells these formidable obvious lies
Like my sister you build a story
You are the star and say you never lie
I blink in wonder at your false silly glory
You build a castle of lies while I wonder why
I’d like to believe we’ll always be friends
A part of me wants security, foolish hope
I give it 50/50, unsurprised when it ends
I think you should wash your mouth out with soap
The best liars adore and believe their own words
And it takes years for the real truth to be heard

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: words.

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Bear with me

Merle is in his tiny cabin. The cabin far away in the woods. He is holding his guitar. When he realizes where he is, he puts down the guitar, carefully.

He hears crashing outside right away.

He looks. Bear. It rises onto it’s back feet. It is a sow, with cubs! Three!

No, thinks Merle, two cubs. And: “Kurt!” he yells, “Run!”

Kurt just looks at him and turns back to the cubs. The sow is looming outside. This is wrong, why isn’t she attacking Kurt? Kurt is pushing and wrestling the cubs, who are large.

The sow knocks on the cabin wall. “Merle?” says the sow.

Merle doesn’t say a word. This is all wrong.

“Merle?” says the sow bear. She is talking in bear noises but it’s also words in his head. “Well,” says the sow, “you said you could read my mind.”

Merle does not answer. He shakes his head. “Kurt.” he whispers.

The sow bangs on the wall again with a great paw. “You said you’d always be my friend. I miss hiking with you. The rest of it, forget it. Phone, texting, the other stuff. Let’s just hike.”

Merle remains still.

The sow drops to all fours and then sits, her front paws on her back paws. The forest is greening at the tips of the conifers. The grass is electric green from the rain. Kurt and the cubs roll around. Kurt looks ok, really.

“I gave it 50/50 from the start,” says the sow. It’s a meditative growl, if that can be imagined. “I thought you could choose. It was a lie that you could read my mind. You read what you wanted to read. I let you. I thought you’d either keep your promise or break it. I thought you could choose, but maybe I am wrong. Maybe that’s the thing about trying to control other people: if you realize that they are not controlled, you never speak to them again.” The bear rocks forward and back a little. She does not look cute. She looks lethal and smells like bear.

Her mouth opens wide and tongue lolls. “After all, I think people can change and you think they can’t. If you change, then I am right.” She coughs. Merle realizes that it’s laughter.

One of the cubs barrels into her, rolling. She swats it away. Kurt is right behind the cub, but she catches him. She sets him aside, standing up.

“Up to you,” says the bear. She turns towards the woods to the north. Kurt gives a wave and he and the cubs scramble after her.

Merle struggles out of the dream like a diver coming up from the deepest possible dive. “Kurt,” he says, “you said you’d come back and tell me the truth.” He shudders and gets up.

I took the photographs in June 2017.

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creche

I visited the creche yesterday. It’s always a wonderment to see the young getting ready to hatch from the rocks. Since we are not native to this planet, our ancestors visited eons ago. The young are terribly slow to develop in the rock, but this one is very close. I am just one of the lizards who go to check it. I am awaiting the call for when it is ready to hatch. The vibrations will call me and all the other lizards who are close. That will be a joyous occasion.

When I visit, I hum and the eggs hum in response. It helps them to remember and to develop.

I look forward to the hatching.

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: wonderment.

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Food needs

I am having a few friends over and am checking to see if there are any food needs. Since my March 2021 pneumonia, I can’t eat gluten. Weird, huh? But antibodies tend to rise as we get older, darn them. And there can be a rising baseline. Double darn.

Anyhow, I have some funny friends. My query “Is there anything you don’t eat?” got these responses:

“I don’t eat anchovies or dried fishies or grubs.”

“We eat everything in moderation.”

“shellfish, giant rubbery cooked mushrooms….”

“liver”

They crack me up! I think I invited the right people.

Now, let’s see, what is my menu, with no liver, gluten, shellfish, giant rubbery cooked mushrooms, anchovies, dried fishies or grubs? Tough, huh? Pretty narrow range left.

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I took the photograph at the Great Port Townsend Bay Kinetic Sculpture Race in September 2022. Pretty earnest discussion going on among an interesting group.

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National Museum of Women in the Arts

I took these photographs at Christmas 2017. My daughter and I visited my son and my daughter-in-law in Maryland. We went to the National Museum of Women in the Arts. It is fabulous. They have been closed for renovations, but I hope they’ll be open next time I visit my son and daughter-in-law.

The Smithsonian is also working on a museum about women and about time, too.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: museum.

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Petty lie

What old deep wound causes you
to hurt me and other friends you’ve had
in past. What terrors hidden in that brew
make you glory in making others sad?
You boast to me of throwing people out
of your life forever, never friend
again. You don’t explain what crimes reroute
your heart to where you never speak again
to him or me. How many people discarded
from your heart and at what interval?
How many “friendships” have you departed?
And yet you boast that others call you spiritual.
“Friends forever,” you said. I wonder why
you tell yourself and me that petty lie.

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Sonnet 8