By Rev. Amari Magdalena
Perhaps if I didn’t choose to live in the bubble that my
daughter often refers to as my way of life, I’d have noticed symptoms of a
heart that was experiencing struggles.
Given that I am rapidly approaching membership in the octogenarian tribe, logically
I may have imagined the things that come up for many with age. True I’d been
experiencing the most intense body breakdown period of my life, yet still I
denied.
Of course, that was easy as some of the symptoms were well
aligned with my lung issues and had been for some time. Breathlessness? Many had observed over the years how
breathless I became with excitement.
Then again, moving back to higher altitude added to the excuses.
It was quite the shock when my excellent medical practitioner
upon receiving the CT scan called me late in the afternoon and advised me to
immediately see a heart physician who was waiting for me. Seems the report indicated
an aorta aneurysm. Got to the new doc and immediately had an EKG and much
more intense heart exam. He ordered an Electrocardiogram for the next day.
Other surprise was that the Mitral Prolapse that I’d known
about for 41 years but thought had gone away (no one mentioned it anymore) was
leaking. The electrocardiogram also showed the aneurysm to be larger than the
CT scan showed and more leaks. I laughingly
shared that I’d always been a “bleeding heart liberal.” Jokes aside I was mystified as to why this
had all happened, and no one had ever noticed some of the telltale signs. Guess
that knowledge went with the demise of the annual physical that health
insurance axed.
Next, I was sent to the partner of the heart doc who started
talking chemical stress tests and catherization along with stents etc. My initial shock kept me somewhat insulated
from the truth though in panic I began to take care of end-of-life details and
expenses. The latter seemed such b.s. in
a society tethered to the almighty dollar. We pay both ways, in and out, or our
relatives do.
Time seemed of the essence, and I started running around like
a chicken who’d just lost their head. Once I saw heart doc #2, we decided to do
nothing but get the ole B.P. down before charting the course. A month's reprise was in the offing. That has now given
me time to contemplate. I decided to stop all the craziness and sit with a
possible exit before I’d imagined it.
Yes, I do realize that lots of people in their seventies check out, just
didn’t imagine I’d be one of them.
Denial and delusion are such masters of the great cover
up. Despite them, I’ve found myself
tearing up a whole lot more than in the past couple of decades. I began to look around at all the ‘stuff’ I’ve
acquired that has brought me such beauty and discern who would get what in the
will’s addendum. Got the medical directives signed and posted the DNR to the
refrigerator.
Shock has worn off now and I am more at peace with whatever
is to be the outcome. Hopefully my creativity will take up some of the hours of
suspense and meditation will fill in the rest. It all got me thinking about a
song in the movie, “Playing by Heart” entitled Walk into This Room.
Synthesized, it is about laying down our burden basket and
walking into the light of love. I
realized we don’t have to wait for that crossover of the rainbow bridge to do
so. I used to have a First American
burden basket on my wall. I’m thinking
that I’ll have one again. In fact, I
feel we would all benefit by having one.
If we simply write down what’s weighting us (or simply state it aloud and metaphorically add it to the basket) and then surrender it to the
basket it can lift off any encumbrance. At year’s end, the year's burdens can be consigned it to
flame.
I may still not know the outcome of this glitch in my health. I do know that it is what it is and that all the angst in the world will not change anything. I do know, and have taught, that the word stressed turned around spells desserts. I will choose to lay it down and walk into that world of light and love, here or there. Ultimately, peace will prevail, and the right milestone will be celebrated.
"Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you." -Shannon Alder
