I want to relate an experience I had an hour ago. Perhaps my "antidote to Afib" has been experienced by some of you. I think many would agree that at times those of us in our 70's and 80's who are dealing with Afib find that, like God, our subconscious works in mysterious ways.
I had been dealing with Afib arrhythmia for 6 hours. I woke up at 4:00 AM and added a couple of lines to finish a poem. I felt my pulse when I got back in bed, and I still had arrhythmia. A few minutes later as I was drifting off, an odd bit from a TV report I had seen over 3 months ago suddenly came to mind. The presenter talked about natural remedies and described how the oil and grease beside your nose (I hope you're not eating breakfast!) could be rubbed off with your fingers and applied to your lips as a natural salve for dry, cracked lips. I had an image of a woman kissing her lover and saying, "What's that oily stuff on your lips?" "Oh, I just put on a fresh application of nose crease grease!" (It begs the question of how often this TV guy washes his face!)
I found myself chuckling heartily while lying in bed. I felt my pulse again before trying to go back to sleep. I was in NSR! I checked it with the monitor to be sure. It really did seem as the the funny scene and laugh straightened me out! Now all we have to do is have a network for exchanging gross, humorous texts when needed.
Here is the poem I was finishing. I hope it doesn't put anyone in Afib. Feel free to skip it!
“How Are You, Today?”
I had a bright, reticent student
“On the spectrum” I was told.
His demeanor in his lesson,
At twenty years old,
Was impassive, but never impudent.
Before we began each session,
I would forget, and say,
“How are you, today?”
It seems an innocent thing,
An innocuous greeting to bring.
But always, with awkward pause,
No answer would he give.
Too late, I knew the cause,
He was bound with truth to live.
No insincere response to ad lib,
His words were never quick or glib.
He would tense and shrink away,
Trying to study what to say.
Finally replying, hesitant and low,
“I, I really don’t know.”
How many times have we thought,
With that greeting routinely brought,
To try the truth to venture
Instead of our feelings censure,
Not wanting to sympathy pander,
But needing to speak with candor.
“How are you, today?”
“I’m fine, I’m good, I’m okay.”
I will always answer,
Unable to bring myself to say,
“Except my best friend has cancer.”
Like my guileless, awkward student,
I can’t share what’s going on.
Darkening the moment feels imprudent,
But hiding the truth feels also wrong.
I find the conflict painfully confusing,
My saddened mood to be defusing
With such emotions paired that don’t belong,
What spectrum am I on?
Wishing a warm voice would softly say,
“But, how are you ‘really’ today?”