Good to Be Alive

 Today mark exactly 4 years since my pulmonary embolism. Four extra years. I can't really think of it any other way except as extra years. Any time that I have had past that night is a gift. It really brings perspective to my life. Things may seem grim, and life might seem hard, but damn, I could have been dead. So, as I sit sequestered in my home far from the virus covered masses, and everything that I had planned to do for the next two years has been cancelled, and the current presidential race seems to be making us collectively less intelligent as a nation, and I'm wrapped up in a blanket because our heat doesn't work, all I can keep thinking about is how good it is to be alive, right about now. 

So, I guess all I can ask of people is that we love each other on this cold, miserable fall day, because the alternative is to be dead. And I think being alive is good, because if you're dead it can't get any better.  

A New Course of Study

    Immediately after my PE in 2016 I took an interest in religion, that is fairly common after a near death experience I believe. In the ensuing years that interest has waned, but damn it, I bought the bible I'm going to finally read it. I did not grow up in a religious household. My parents never took me to church, we never discussed religion except in an abstract sense, and I don't think we ever owned a bible. During high school I did have the opportunity to take a World Religions course and loved it. The idea of theology is fascinating to me as someone who never had a lot of exposure to that sort of thing. But not having that exposure can also be hamstringing in a largely biblically literate culture. So, I'm going to take the opportunity of quarantine to look at scriptures and form my opinions on them. I don't want my understanding to be tapered through the lens of someone else's interpretation so I'm going in completely cold. 

    I will be using the King James Bible, since I like the flowery language that version uses. It feels more... religious-ie. The details of which are below:

The Holy Bible

King James Version

"An English translation of the Christian Bible for the Church of England, commissioned in 1604 and completed as well as published in 1611 under the sponsorship of James VI and I. In common with most other translations of the period, the New Testament was translated from Greek, the Old Testament from Hebrew and Aramaic, and the Apocrypha from Greek and Latin." (Wikipedia)

Red Letter Edition - "Red letter edition bibles are those in which the Dominical words—those spoken by Jesus Christ, commonly only those spoken during his corporeal life on Earth—are printed rubricated, in red ink. This is a modern practice derived from the art and Roman Catholic practice in mediaeval scriptoria of rubricating headings, leading letters of sectional text, and words of text in manuscripts for emphasis, similar to italicization.

“WITH THE WORDS OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR

SET FORTH IN DIGNIFIED RED ITALICS”' (Wikipedia)

Barbour Bibles Publishing

2012 copyright

My hope that is if I put it out there and make my plan that it will give me something to stick to. So, moving forward I'll give each section/chapter a read through and prepare a small essay on each section.

So next Saturday will be Genesis, (my doesn't that sound ominous). If this goes well, I'll use the same formula for the Tanakh, the Quran and then maybe some of the Vedas.

I think about that a lot

I remember taking breaths and feeling no sweet relief. Like all the oxygen had been pulled out of the room and no matter how much my lungs expanded and contacted I couldn't seem to ease the hunger in my chest. I remember the world spinning and going dark. I remember being in the back of the ambulance and wishing I was dead because it hurt so much to try and breath. I remember the feeling of my body betraying me.

I remember that,  and  I think about that a lot right now.

The Magic Happens

I believe my cat is magic.
He only makes good things happen.
My familiar is 10 lbs of blonde amazing.
It is wrong for me to claim the magic,
he does it all I think.
I am so grateful.

Now a previously started
moody refrain.
It is not true now.
My mind is free,
more
or less.

My life is like,

the lights are on, but nobodies home,

except someone is home,

and all the curtains are drawn

and they hope that no one calls, 

or knocks.

Today

I drop off my father and drive home. It's a Monday night, so both my parents are off doing  empty nester parent things, even though both their children still live at home. As soon as I come in I leash up the dogs to go out for a short walk. They are all three of them assholes, just to varying degrees. They all crap in the yard. I take the opportunity to wheel in the freshly emptied garbage can and  desecrate it with a bag of old and new dog shit. I feel a little badly about this.

After that I practice pipes for about fifteen minutes before it reaches the altogether too late hour of 8pm. It's hard, and I feel winded rather quickly, but I do it anyway, because I'm terrible and I need to get better. I am monitoring a pain in my left lung. I'm trying to decide if it's my heart, my lung or my liver. None of those sound particularly good, but I will wait and see if anything about the pain changes, or if I am just fat as my doctor keeps insisting. I understand that I am fat and for that reason my "doctor" can go straight to Hell. I know what fat feels like, I'm actually pretty good at it after all this time. When I am winded and between sets I wheel in the recycling bin that is still sitting lonely on the side of the driveway. I thought that maybe they had yet to come for them, but all the neighbors have retrieved theirs and I feel foolish being the only one who has not.

After I have worn myself out and the various pains and mystery throbbing had beaten me down I come inside. I plug in my phone an listen to an audio book. I find that I really enjoy audio books, possibly because I am too lazy to get into reading, or perhaps I find having to devote all my energy to focusing on a book too trying. I wash dishes while listening to a Terry Pratchett novel read in a lovely English accent. I have decided that if I am ever to release an autobiography that is successful enough to merit an audiobook edition, I would like it to be read by a proper sounding English gentleman. This is not only because I would find it hilarious that the inner monologue of a vain teenage girl should be an old English fellow, much like Patrick Stewart being the inner voice of Susie Swanson on Family Guy, but also I think it best reflect the actual rhythm of my patterns of thought. I don't know though, it might just be me.

By this time I have started to cook something for dinner for my slightly older brother, which means all the dishes I have just washed are now dirty again. This speaks to the Buddhist practice of performing mundane tasks that have no end just for the doing of them, or if you would prefer, as I often do, the Sisyphus effect. I usually choose to remove myself from the cycle right about this time. After placing the tatertot casserole into the oven I am finally able to take moment to sit down. Which is when I receive a text from my father whom I was suppose to be picking up about five minutes ago. So after telling my brother to check on his own damn food in not so many words I jump in the car, speed only slightly to pick up my father and bring him home where he promptly goes upstairs and goes to bed.

It is about this point that I ease into a chair, finally able to relax and begin to type. Which brings us to now.

All of this is to say my period, after nearly three continuous months, appears to be over.

Stillness

I have been thinking on stillness of late. We don't seem to appreciate it. At practice today I came to the realization that stillness in music is where you really appreciate the music. It's what make the note, played one by one, a piece to move the soul. A split second on a single tone to make the music speak. Some people say that the music is in the silence, the places where the notes drop out all together. The places where the anticipation is greatest and create the most dramatic affect. That is untrue. The music is where every note sits and is appreciated next to the following. They work best together, appreciated individually in their own time. No matter how fast, or short, or fleeting, every note has value. Beautiful, meaningful value.

I am afraid often. Is the pain in my chest like that other pain? Is my bleeding normal or extreme? What did I do before that made it happen? Am I doing it again?

I have decided that Death is following me around, waiting for me to slip up again. I failed in someway that he wasn't ready for before, and now he's waiting for me to make that same mistake again. He's looking for me to be in that same place again. I don't want to be in that place again, but I have a tendency to wander in ways that I don't expect. I am easily lost.

I try to think back to what I saw when I was somewhere else, and trying to remember what it was I saw there. Someone spoke to me. Someone spoke to me in kind and familiar tones. He wasn't scared. It was loud there and bright, and when I was back here, for a moment it was still.

How Did You Know?

How did I know I was having a pulmonary embolism? Well, it wasn't like I was feeling under the weather and decided to take a stroll on over to the ER just to check it out. I couldn't breath. Someone had shut off the air. My left lung had dropped off line. There was no debate. There was no, "maybe we should wait and see," or "Are you sure you need to go to the hospital?" It was more, "try to get her to the car before she passes out again," and "We can't wait for an ambulance."

I find it odd that people think I would go to the hospital without it being absolutely necessary.

I knew I was having a pulmonary embolism because I couldn't breath. I knew I was having a pulmonary embolism because my heart was on the edge of failing because I had lost all function in my left lung and it was struggling to keep me oxygenated. I knew because I was turning blue. I knew because I kept passing out and waking up on the ground in a new place. I knew because I was dying.

I don't know how people can smoke. After loosing that much lung function I would pay $6 a pack to never feel that way again. What is wrong with air that you would want to deny yourself any?

I went up the stairs to go to bed, I've done it a thousand times before. I reached the top of the stair and immediately got dizzy. I stumbled to bed with the thought in my head that I would lay down and catch my breath. I startled awake when I couldn't breath, face down on the bed, not sure when I laid down. I was not ok, I needed help. I got out of bed. The light was still end, I hadn't changed for bed, I was not alright. There was no air. I tried to go for the door and the world shut off again. I remember seeing the floor come up under me before it went dark again. Dreams, unrecognizable dreams. Loud dreams. Awake again. Maybe? Yes, awake again. Less air. Struggle out of sweatshirt. Shout help, no reply, shout more. Watch dad walk by, shout for help, he doesn't react. Kick the wall. He can't hear me. Am I awake? Pull towards the stairs. Sit up, no air.

Help me, help me, help me.

Mom looks up the stairs at me and grows pale. She hurries up. Help me, Help me. She screams for my father. He doesn't wake easily. I slide step by step down the stairs. I can't breath. I don't know what's wrong. I lay on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. Someone helps me with my shoes. My chest hurts now. My breath is fast and labored. I can't slow my heart. I can't slow my breath. They lift me up and we struggle towards the car.

Loud dreams. Flashes of colors. I wake up on the ground. I see my fathers face looking down at me. He is high above me. The sky is purple behind him. My mom is getting ready to call an ambulance. The phone is in her hand. I try to reassure them. I don't remember being scared. I am lifted off the ground and we make it to the car. We speed to the hospital. I remember being concerned about how reckless my father's driving seemed. But I understood he was scared. I was dying. I knew that.

We drove past the emergency entrance twice. They started yelling at each other. This isn't the time. Mom runs in for a wheel chair. They wheel me in and everyone looks concerned. I can't breath. There is no air. There is no stopping, there was no check in, I was wheeled straight in. I thought that was odd, but I wasn't going to argue. I couldn't even if I wanted to. I am put on a stretcher. The doctor asks me questions. My health, my allergies, when, where, how? Mask over my face. Still so hard to breath. CT scan. Don't breath. Sit up. Ambulance. Richard and Andy in the back. We're rolling. Jeez Andy. Mask won't stay on. The ambulance goes fast. Watch things disappear in the flashing lights. Highway ramp was closed, I knew that. We have to go around. Ambulance is flying. Overdose rolling in at the same time. We aren't waiting.

Roll into the ER. Ambulance waits with me. I have their crash gear attached to me. Can't stop my heart from racing, breathing is still labored. I am covered in people doing a number of things. IV's going in, vitals being felt up, reassurances given. Concerned looks all over. Heart rate is up, blood pressure up, oxygenation low. Bad situation. It calms. The people leave. I vomit... EVERYWHERE. Start to feel better. Oxygenation starts to improve. Blood pressure normalizes. Heart rate still high.

Wheeled to IR. Have intravenous catheters put in to attack the clot in my lungs. I am awake through the procedure, more or less. They let me sleep if I can. I must hold my breath when asked. I am uncomfortable, and am wrapped like a mummy. I am sent to ICU to recoup. Allison takes care of me. Then Jennifer. Then Allison. Then Jennifer. They are so good to me. Catheters out. Stable. Can finally sit up. Feeling normal. Taken to Telemetry. Unpleasant room mate. She's scared and angry. No one listens to her concerns. No one understands. I sleep. I wake. I am recovered much faster than I thought. I am sent home.

I'm luck to be alive. I am lucky to be alive. I am so lucky to be alive.