I woke up AFib on Wednesday
Hospital feet
My standard “foot pict” with sushi smuggled into the hospital by my dearest friends.

I woke up AFib on Wednesday. Atrial Fibrillation. The chambers of our hearts usually beat on a regular rate. However, it can go all Southern Baptist on you and lose its groove. I felt just a little dizzy and just a little nauseous. Nothing really debilitating or significant. I started to go to work and then decided to lay down and go in just a little late. But I got a couple alerts from my new Christmas present like those new Apple watches are apt to do. It was telling me my regular 55 BPM heart rate was bumping along at 120. I called a nurse friend who gave me some [good] advice, but instead, I decided to do what dudes do…I sat in my chair and drank some water and figured it would all work out in a minute or two. This grand plan was interrupted by my little sister from another mister who bugged the hell out of me to go to the Quick Clinic. I gave in.

So there was this point when the doctor at the Quick Clinic was telling me what my watch and my little sis had already told me. Doc had just said the EKG was AFib, and he was elaborating that I was heading to the ER and that I couldn’t drive myself. This bugged me because I was perfectly able to drive my own damn self to the ER. I had driven myself to the clinic, and I was a grown-ass man. I was also anticipating the I-told-you-to-go-to-the-ER text from my lil’ sis. I had been told all this earlier that morning and responded to it all with the skeptical and well-practiced eye-roll my dude nature gave me.

So my good and loving wife (a true saint and so much better than I deserve) left work to chauffeur me to the local ER. I was afraid the “healthcare” “industry” was going to life-flight me the mile and a half from the clinic to the hospital and take a massive bite out of my retirement savings (because that’s such a better system than one where costs are regulated and shared—evened out, so no one is thrown into financial ruin because of unexpected medical expenses…but I digress.) The humans of actual “healthcare” took great care of me. They smiled. They were comforting. They built up my confidence in a very unfamiliar place. They apologized for sticks and pokes that are simply part of their jobs because they knew it was uncomfortable for me. They even laughed at my occasional “dad humor.” From the very low paid aids to the very accomplished doctor, cardiologist, nurses, and other staff, all were wonderful. (Except for the chicken salad sandwich I was attempted to be fed at dinner time (see the picture above for what I actually ate) and the lousy hamburger patty served with some canned “gravy” poured on top presented to me at lunch as a “hamburger steak” …but again, I digress.)

I sit here on my back porch today with my feet up by the fire reading a little, writing a little, wasting some time on Facebook a little. As my heart bumps out its irregular little tune, I contemplate how perspective changes almost immediately sometimes. I’m fine. No drama intended with this post. But I also recognize the reality check my little life-hiccup gave me this week. More motivation to get healthier this year. More perspective on what matters. Love for those people who are friends who become family and for blood family who are always here for you. Here’s to 2020. Here’s to beating out a brand new rhythm this year. And my heart getting back to a healthy and utterly non-Southern Baptist rhythm.

Rembrandt Coffee Shop

Rembrandt Coffee Shop
Rembrandt Coffee Shop

I was able to grab a quick cup of coffee at my favorite Chattanooga cafe Tuesday before an appointment.  It’s located in the Bluff View Art District near the river, between downtown and UT Chattanooga.

This is a city that has done a fantastic job in revitalizing its downtown area and lots of folk are noticing.  One thing that stood out in my very quick and quite incomplete google research was it’s rank as #2 Arts Destination (midsized city) by American Style Magazine (2009).

Question, – by Son Volt

Just for the fun of it…a friend posted this little Facebook game…it was fun.  Try it.  Post your answers below if you feel like it. I’d love to see the songs that pop up.

Instructions:
1. Put your media player on Shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write down the name of the song no matter how silly it sounds!
4. Put any comments after the song name.

______________

If someone says, “Is this okay?” You say?
Gone, Daughtry (a little embarrassing, but…YES, I HAVE DAUGHTRY ON MY IPOD!!! there…I said it…no David Archuleta however!)

How would you describe yourself?
Bach(JS): Cello Suite #5 In C Minor, BWV11011-2. Allemande, Yo-yo Ma (got that)

What do you like in a guy/girl
Communication, The Call (Michael Been’s Call)

How do you feel today?
Horse to Water, R.E.M.

What is your life’s purpose?
The Trawlerman’s Song, Mark Knopfler

What is your motto?
Cry from the Street, David Gilmour

What do your friends think of you?
Vivaldi Concerto In C: Allegro Non Molto, Malcom Messiter

What do you think of your parents?
Down Home with Homey, Wynton Marsalis

What do you think about very often?
Last Dance, Sarah McLauchlan

What is 2 + 2?
The First Noel/What is this Fragrance, Windham Hill Artists

What do you think of your best friend?
Moses-Journey, Yo-yo Ma

What do you think of the person you like?
Melting Alone, Sixpence None the Richer

What is your life story?
Armor and Sword, Rush

What do you want to be when you grow up?
The Hole, Glen Phillips

What do you think of when you see the person you like?
Kid Things, Counting Crows

What will you dance to at your wedding?
I Can’t Stand It, Eric Clapton

What will they play at your funeral?
Closer To The Light, Bruce Cockburn (spooky!  good choice!)

What is your hobby/interest?
Angel, Fleetwood Mac

What is your biggest fear?
Comfortably Numb, Dar Williams

What is your biggest secret?
Dirty Little Girl, Elton John

What do you think of your friends?
gods’ dice, Pearl Jam (sort of fatalistic.)

What will you put as the title?
Question, Son Volt

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