Heart Strong

The 5th anniversary of Tom's death is in 8 days. In the last 5 years I've dealt with Tom's illness and death.  I've had cataract surgery on both eyes.  Then 848 days ago, while having dinner at a local Mexican restaurant, my heart went into a strange rhythm.  It had happened once before but converted back to normal quickly.  This time it didn't.  I kept thinking it would.  But it didn't.  A week later I took myself into the ER and was diagnosed with persistent aFib.  I was put on medication and sent home.  A month later I had my first cardioversion to put me back in normal rhythm.  It didn't last.  It began my long journey through various medications, multiple EKGs, 5 echocardiograms, one angiogram, one stress test, one cardiac MRI (soon to be two), four cardioversions, one surgical ablation (heart surgery), one catheter ablation (heart surgery), and a bout of constrictive pericarditis which caused diastolic heart failure (since resolved), a thoracentesis, a 14 day monitor and a 30 day monitor.  Last week I received the results of that 30 day monitor and my cardiologist has declared the last ablation a SUCCESS!!!!!  My heart is still in the healing process from what is believed to be a flare of the pericarditis from the second ablation.  But I am HEART STRONG! Today I felt good.  And its good to feel good. Up for 2020, two joint replacements.  And I've done all this while continuing to work, redoing my house, learning to ride a motorcycle and just trying to recover.  Dayum!  That is a lot of stuff.  I am pretty awesome if I say so myself.  And yet, it could be so very much worse.  I am grateful for what I do have, a home, an income, health insurance, great friends who have helped me through this.  And Zora--who is the only reason I got out of bed the next day.

It has been a long hard difficult journey. There were days I didn't think I'd make it through and days I didn't want to make it through. I know the joint replacements will be very difficult surgeries to recover from. But, hell, if I can survive the last five years, I think I will get through it just fine. Its the last thing I need to do to reclaim my life, which has become limited due to the constant pain when walking or standing.

Our House

Twenty-three years ago today, on January 19, 1997, we first walked into the house that was to become our home.  We arrived from Chicago the day before and were looking for a place to rent, not buy.  The moment we entered we knew we absolutely had to have it.  We put in an offer the next day.  It took some finagling and the help of family and six weeks later it was ours.

It has been the happiest of places, filled with love.  It has been the saddest of places, the home of a broken heart.  It has provided shelter to three dogs and two birds, a devoted married couple and a devastated widow.  It has been a place of refuge and a place of angst (think nasty neighbors).  It has hosted band practice and countless dinners.  Music and laughter still echo from its corners. It is the place where we fought and made up. It is the place where we laughed and cried.  It echoed with the howls of anguish after a failed IVF cycle.  It is the place that recharged us after long days of work and a week of business travel. It is the place we returned to after learning of the death of my dad and fourteen years later, the death of my mom.  It was the home to which Sonnet traveled across the country with us to spend her last four years and the home that Kona traveled from Texas to live in with his new family. It is the home that Zora traveled to from SoCal to bring joy to two people recovering from the loss of their goofy lab. It was the home that Bubba settled into after being abandoned by his family of twenty years and where he passed being loved on.  It is where Phoenix would scream his lungs out and where he would cower when a hawk would fly close to the window. It is the very sacred space where Tom took his last breath It was Our House. And it was a very very fine house.

I love it today just as much as the first day we moved in.  I still remember the feeling walking down the stairs the first morning thinking "this is ours".  I felt it was the beginning of something great, that we had arrived.  We would stand on our deck at night and marvel at the stars, which could never be seen in Chicago, and admire our view and talk about our home in Chicago where the view was of two brick walls, a used car lot and a tree.

This place, these four walls and the roof, this mass of concrete, wood, metal, glass, gyp board and paint, is far more than a house.  It is a home, my home.  I am extremely grateful for it.  Every time I walk through the door my heart and breathing slow and my shoulder relax because I am home.  Of course the happy greeting by Zora will always make me laugh.  It is now my home--the place where I have healed.  It is still filled with that love and good juju.

The Photographic Journey Part Five

My photographic journey has been an experience.  I never really thought about it as experience, focusing more on the outcome, the photos.  I neglected to understand the most important part of the process, the actual shoot, the day you stand in front of the camera and contort your body to make yourself look good.  Do not underestimate the value of good lighting and professional hair and makeup to change your everyday self into your "OMG is that me?" self.

The photoshoot with Zora was really two parts.  The first, Zora in the studio.  The second, Zora and I in the park.  The images of Zora in the studio are precious.  She was such a good girl and worked really hard to please me.

Zora the Princess

Zora the Pathetic Abused Dog

Zora the Catcher

The photographer captured her personality.  And her beauty.

The images from the park captured exactly what I had told the photographer that I wanted, our interaction.  What surprised me was how much Zora looked to me, how she would focus on me. The shoot provided some amazing art.

Sunset Silhouette 

One of the things that I came to realize during the photoshoot and shortly thereafter was the job that Zora took on after Tom died.  I believe he told her to take care of her mama and she took his request to heart.  She has become much more protective of me. And while she has people in her life she absolutely adores like her buddy Christine and her Aunties Mary, Dawn, Holly and Rena, her first priority is her mama.  She looks at me with love, mostly.

On the Bridge

In the Park

On the Bench

This dramatic image now hangs in my bedroom.  There is something about it that speaks to my soul.  My pup and me gazing out over the valley and admiring the sky, together.

And finally, our "Gone with the Wind" photo.  It hangs on the mantle, and it says everything about surviving, and moving forward.  Me and my pup.