About 6 or 7 years ago, StarMan and I found ourselves surrounded in way-too-high waves off the Florida Space Coast, stupidly trapped in a rip-tide. I knew that we were in trouble approximately 20 seconds before he did. We had been in the water for at least 40 minutes, laughing and enjoying the bouncy waves. We were unaware that with each playful wave jump, we were getting carried a few feet further from shore. The waves were tall and irregular that day, a fact that was made abundantly clear only after we were wore out and ready to go back to our beach towels. Continue reading
(Let’s pretend that I got this one posted “on time” 2 weeks ago, ‘kay?) The vernal equinox, otherwise known as the first day of Spring (here north of the equator!), has meaning to me that goes beyond its astronomical significance. March 21 is the day that the StarMan and I have long regarded as our anniversary date. Going all mushy or TMI is not my style, but I really don’t give StarMan the credit he deserves. He is the embodiment of unconditional love, and I am the luckiest person alive to be the person with whom he decided to share his life.
Norman Rockwell’s “Doctor and Doll”
The dreadful, shocking news I received at the cardiologist’s office on Monday morning left me a sobbing mess for most of the day. As you may recall from my last post, I recently visited my Primary Care physician to get his take on the problems I experienced during a recent bike ride. After a thorough checkup, he referred me to the cardiologist, and stressed that I needed to set up a follow-up appointment to see him immediately after the referral visit. I remember thanking him and saying “good bye, see you again soon” and, at that moment, putting my finger on one of his attributes that I found so refreshingly quaint: he was dressed in one of those zip-off hiking pants/shorts and was wearing a casual polo shirt. I’ve seen plenty of pretentious doctors during my life; he was the first doctor who actually listened to me, who was humble almost to a fault. Thoughts of him stir visions of an old-fashioned doctor in a Normal Rockwell painting, although “youthful and in-touch” would represent his persona just as accurately. I would have never guessed that this “good-bye” would be the very last. Continue reading
Even during the best of times, we fear it. We dread it. And we know that someday, we will get it. And we know that the shrill ring piercing the night at the ungodly hour of O’dark-thirty is never someone calling to say that we’ve just won a lottery, or otherwise happy news. This past weekend, I received my first 1AM phone call. Continue reading