March, 2003
Dear old and new friends, relatives and new acquaintances,
Saw the cardiologist this morning. We agree that I can live with
"atrial fib" without efforts to regulate my heart.
New research confirms that the aged can ride it out with coumadin
to prevent strokes. I chose to do that. This means it will take a
while to come to terms with the coumadin dosage but I am faithful
about the "pin pricks".
This decision, for example, would mean I would not call a dear friend
to take my blood pressure on a morning when my pulse was wildly fluctuating.
I would eat breakfast and wait for it to pass as it did on February 8 en
route by ambulance from Urgent Care to the Emergency Room.
He does not think my case warrants a jolt, cauterization or the search
for a new miracle drug. Pacemakers are for people with very low blood
pressure, and mine, now that I am a new medicine is doing just great. No
more horribly swollen ankles that the last medication offered.
Just to prove that we live in disturbed times, last Friday when things
seemed to be under control, a series of obscene phone calls reached into
my night. Think I have found the remedy to that intrusion.
The embroidery keeps my soul and psyche stitched together. Saint Mary
Catholic Church offers balm for my spirit and a Catholic Writer's group
to engage my intelligence with peers.
Am on the library committee of this retirement home, will talk about
Tangible Hope at a potluck of Eugene activists next week. On Monday
nights Bob and Marion and I gather as Three or More for silence,
prayer, Breaking Open the Word AND discussing a book together. For
Lent it will be Jim Forest's THE LADDER OF THE BEATITUDES. I go
to the Sunday dinners at Ann's home where there are teenagers and
pets. Last night she took me to the symphony. What more could a
mother hope for?
Well, a less frightening world, so be sure.
Don't think Martin Sheen originated the statement
We are not asked to be successful.
so I stitch small stitches into my prayers for Peace on Earth as I try to remain faithful
with Love,
Justine
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