“You fixed yourself.” Those were three little words I wasn’t prepared to hear on the last Wednesday in August. Here I was at a local hospital in out-patient cardiology pre-op, hooked up to an electrocardiogram machine with two white patches stuck to my chest and back, being prepped for something called cardioversion, a quick, low-energy shock to restore my heart’s normal rhythm. I felt like a human battery about to get boosted by a tow truck driver in a white coat. Which I was. The IV port planted in the crook of my right arm longed for the perfect dose of “conscious sedation” to make me sleepy and unaware of…
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A car buff’s mecca
FERNDALE, Michigan – Flames emanating from a car exhaust can warm the cockles of any gearhead’s heart. Despite this new age of electric vehicles, I’m still a fan of an internal combustion engine’s distinctive sound and classic coolness. But creating deliberate external combustion? That seems so … dangerously hot. What can I say? It was. An unexpected fireworks show lit up the streets of Woodward Avenue on Saturday afternoon, capping off the 27th Annual Dream Cruise for this classic car buff and about a million others in attendance. Leaving our primo parking spot on 9 Mile’s Mustang Alley West (thanks, MOCSEM car club!), we knew our day was coming to an end – and…
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Castles
Back in the day, they used to say a man’s home was his castle. I can remember my father saying it, no matter where we lived – and we moved around a lot – occupying many “castles” on Detroit’s East Side. Mom used to say home was where the heart is, even though she dreaded every move. What I realized as an adult was that we never moved that far from where we had been living. I’m talking within a mile or two. We once moved three times in five years to neighborhoods just minutes from each other. It’s something that still puzzles me to this day. I wish I…
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Damned rights
I don’t have children. At least none that I know of. How many men can say that with such certainty? Not all of them. It was my choice not to have kids. My choice. Nobody else’s. The notion of someone making me give birth is not something I’ve ever contemplated. That is, until last Friday. On June 24, the Supreme Court of the United States ruled to overturn Roe v. Wade, which has been on the books for nearly 50 years and ensured that abortion is a protected federal constitutional right. We knew it was coming. A media “leak” on May 4 about the expected ruling may have softened the blow a bit. But it…
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Hurting
Everything hurts,Our hearts shadowed and strange,Minds made muddied and mute.We carry tragedy, terrifying and true.And yet none of it is new;We knew it as home,As horror,As heritage.Even our childrenCannot be children,Cannot be. ~ Excerpt from “Hymn for the Hurting,” by American poet and activist Amanda Gorman. The youngest inaugural poet in U.S. history, Gorman is author of “The Hill We Climb,” “Call Us What We Carry” and “Change Sings.” The rest of her poem’s verses are within this post below. Sunday was my first car show of the season, the Heritage Days Festival of Cars at Rochester Municipal Park. I’d forgotten about it until that morning and decided to take Mustang Sal for a…
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One in a million
Back in March 2020 when I began blogging about the COVID-19 pandemic, I never expected to still be doing it more than two years later. But here we are. My blog categories have grown, but not in the way I had hoped. They have gone from Pandemic 2020, to Pandemic ’21 and now Pandemic ’22. It’s jarring and sad. Nor did I ever think that within those 26 months, the United States would hit a staggering milestone: one million Americans dead from a novel coronavirus that we feared and knew so little about then. A million lives lost is unimaginable, impossible to comprehend. As we mark this milestone, it’s important to remember that behind each loss…
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Just for kicks
TRAVERSE CITY, Michigan – I spent last weekend here in the Cherry Capital of the World, where the great outdoors entices you to explore new adventures. Like climbing Sleeping Bear Dunes and visiting local wineries. Or spending carefree afternoons shopping downtown buying overpriced but delicious jam at Cherry Republic. And ending each day with spectacular sunsets over Lake Michigan. We did none of those things. Instead, we watched soccer. From morning till night. At least it seemed that way. This was my first-ever soccer tournament. And, if I’m being honest, probably not my last. Bet you didn’t see that coming, did you? Neither did I. A lifelong sports fan, I love…
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Pluto lives on
I have never lost an animal. Losing as in sending a beloved pet beyond the Rainbow Bridge to frolic and sniff dog butts for eternity until they meet their humans again. Just lucky, I guess. So why have I been crying my eyes out over the passing of a dog that I didn’t even know? Maybe it’s because our Madison turns 14 tomorrow. It’s a fact that dogs age faster than humans. You can’t protect them from time. But you try. For now, the dog causing my sadness is Pluto. Not the big goofy Disney pooch. The other Pluto. The “talking” mini-Schnauzer who gained worldwide fame on YouTube encouraging people to stay…
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Don’t be like a bee
Dear reader, I pride myself in writing original material for my Heart Matters Blog. But last week, I received a stellar piece of writing in an email. I laughed, cried and found more clarity after reading it than I’ve felt in, well, about two years. With apologies to author Anne Lamott, who turns 68 on Sunday, here’s my slightly revised/cribbed version of her piece: I am going to be 62 in three days, if I live that long. I’m optimistic. Mostly. God, what a world. What a heartbreaking, terrifying freak show. It is completely ruining my birthday plans. I was going to celebrate how age and the grace of myopia…
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This guy
This guy. He helped save me twice. We met more than 20 years ago to discuss my course of treatment for “something behind my heart.” I was 41. He was, I know now, just three years my senior. This guy seemed older, but not because of some avuncular demeanor with big ears or errant nose hairs. Short, tanned and handsome, he treated me more like a sister than a stranger. He cared. This guy wasn’t just my cardiologist. He was warm, funny and downright silly at times. He wore kindness on the sleeve of his white coat. Unlike some doctors, he never seemed to take himself too seriously, except when…
