Conversion story.

I think that if you click on the button at the left, it will take you to MMM's newest posts. My story went up yesterday. There are lovely comments both on his blog and on the FB link

Yesterday was interesting. And not necessarily in the Chinese sense. I should preface that. If we are friends on FB then you know I have bronchitis again (or still) and am on three heavy duty meds. That cough from April never entirely went away. And night before last it came back with a vengeance.

 

I had noticed something a little off starting just before the weekend. Not pain exactly. But a weakness and slight ache in my upper right arm when I had a coughing jag. And Monday night when I lay down on my left side, that same weird sensation.

 

So Tuesday night after dinner, instead of heading west to Knit Night or a drive-by hugging at Firstborn's, I packed up my CPAP, a change of clothing, my French BOM, the Conference issue of the Ensign, and my knitting. And since by this time the night clinic had closed, I took a little field trip to the ER.
 

I will wait for my kids to finish freaking out. I would have called you if it had turned out to be serious.

 

They took an Xray and an EKG. I do not have pneumonia. And the arm issue is most likely referred pain (although pain is too strong a word) from elsewhere in my body. My heart is healthy.

 

I repeat: my heart is healthy.

 

But since upper arm issues, even subtle ones, can signal heart trouble, and since women tend to ignore the warning signs until they wake up dead, I decided an ounce of sheepishness was worth a pound of my kids having to sing at another funeral.

 

You're welcome.

 

And maybe the real reason that I was at the ER on that particular night is because somebody I met while I was there, needed my prayers. (My dear friend Alison has stuff like that happen. A lot. I take it as a lovely compliment that Heaven entrusted me with this tender task.)

 

I am only bummed about two things: the ER ate my recorder practice time. And my banjo fund took a serious hit.

 

(What? I didn't tell you I've been saving for a banjo?)

 

I sent back the rosewood recorder after work yesterday. I stepped into my car just as the heavens opened up. Rain blowing sideways, mostly. What we call a frog-strangler.

 

I'm keeping the olivewood recorder. We had a lovely practice session last night. And something sent me to YouTube in search of The Cranberries' song, Dreams. Which I now have stuck in my head. Last night I sat on the edge of my bed and sang along. Clear and true. I haven't been in really good voice for months.

 

Thank you, Brother Hydrocodone. Thank you, Brother Prednisone. Thank you, Sister Naproxen. Please continue to play nicely together.

 

"All/oh/ah (the lyrics vary depending on which site you consult; her diction is not the clearest, but her voice is so charmingly quirky) my life ... is changing every day ... in every possible way"...