Saturday, August 9, 2014

Day 218 in Sepia

A nurse calls to see about me.

I read her the symptoms as if I was in a poetry slam.

None of those sound to good, she says.

My research suggests that there is a period of adjustment where the heart adjusts and adapts to its new self, I reply, trying to keep her from saying what she is about to say.

Maybe you should come in and let us take a look.

The phone goes dead.

I have notoriously bad service here.

I get up, walk downstairs and go sit in the sun waiting for her to recall in an area of better coverage.

I think about what I will say. Something like; I can deal with this, if I can only find a way to sleep, it will be OK tomorrow. Lies like that.

I am starting to feel better as the phone rings.

It is Dad asking how I feel.

We laugh through a short conversation, sharing stories, as he had the same procedure a couple of years ago. Said it kicked his ass too.

I remember a picture he gave me yesterday as I hung some bookshelves for him. It was me in transition of the Pacific Crest Triathlon about to start the run. I looked at it for several seconds. Muscle tone, power, strength, speed. Youth. It was only five years ago.

Might as well of been in the days of black, white & sepia.

Enjoy every ride.

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