Age Is Only A Number

I recently celebrated an almost milestone birthday and someone recently asked me how it feels to be almost eighty.

Hummm…. I never really thought about it. Honestly. Age to me has always been just a number. It does not define me, nor does it have anything to do with how old or young at heart I feel. I certainly don’t feel old. Whatever wrinkles I have I have earned them by living.

There are those who might chime in that I’m only fooling myself. Not really. I know the year I was born, but I’ve lived my whole life on the premise that as long as I can put my feet on the floor at sunrise, I’m going to enjoy every minute of the day ahead. I’m going to tackle whatever monster comes my way and know that I have never been given anything that is too tough to beat. I will survive.

Sure. I have made bad decisions in my life, but I haven’t let that stop me from learning from them. Making lemonade out of lemons is part of the deal in this human life we are all living if we want to have a good journey.

Copyright Sandra Hart 2018. All Rights reserved

Waltz With Me My Love

Dance. Oh, how I have always loved dancing, don’t you? By myself as a child, or in the arms of a lover nothing is closer to heaven than lightly swirling around to music that makes my heart sing. Waltz, foxtrot, jitterbug, the monkey or rumba, it doesn’t matter to me.

Emerson Hart©and Tonic

Song and dance have been with us far back in recorded human history and has been an important part of celebratory rituals. It’s so true that dance is a way to find yourself and loose yourself at the same time.  

Unless, that is, your heart is dancing a clumsy two step in your chest. Dancing with your feet is one thing, but a dancing heart is another.  

Unfortunately, I was born with extra electrical pathways that under certain circumstances cause my heart to palpitate and loose sinus rhythm. These unwelcome ‘dances’ began in my twenties, but since my heart was otherwise basically healthy, I just had to tolerate this non-synchronized orchestra that lived in my chest. 

It became a way of life for me until in the 90’s a new procedure called  radio frequency ablation was developed to eliminate extra pathways in the heart. Tiny cathodes are run through the groin veins to ablate the dancing pathways. At the time it sounded scary to me, but each 12 hour episode of rhumba were scarier, so I opted to have the ablation.

Now, one thing they didn’t realize, or take into consideration then is that those electrical nerve pathways can grow back. So here I am once again saying goodbye to my heart’s unruly dance, one week into recovery from updated modern medical advances in electrophysiology and radio frequency ablation. 

My procedure lasted about three hours and I was released the next day. My doctor showed me a photograph of my heart with the ablation points and it looked like a pearl necklace all around my heart. He said when they thought they were through, adrenaline administered would show other electrically charged pathways. I was a dancing fool inside my chest!

So far, I am following the doctor’s orders and not lifting anything over 10 pounds or bending over and just taking things easy for a few weeks. He told me I might have increased dances in my chest, perhaps for as long as three months while my heart is healing, but already they are short little tap dances that do encourage me everything is healing just fine. 

The pinpoint scarred areas created by the cauterization, once healed, will block and interrupt those crazy dancing impulses by taking off their tap shoes and sending them into retirement.  

Trust me, the next dance I do I hope it will be with only my feet and with someone I love.  

¬©Copyright Sandra Hart 2017                            

All Rights Reserved

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Don’t Talk To Me About How Healthy You Are!

Beware! This may be the most depressing blog that I have ever written, but it’s something that I’ve been thinking about lately in my over 50 state of mind. 

My husband gets almost every health newsletter on the market. He reads and believes every single thing in these various publications. I know they’re important and I have gleaned a lot of information from them, but one thing I do know, genetics plays a great big part in our longevity. 

Sure, how we embrace our bodies and our good health has a lot to do with prodding along and maybe extending that lifeline, but the reality is none of us have control over our expiration date.

One thing I know never to do – talk about the state of my health. No one really cares and I may be sharing my exuberance for all the healthy things that I did that day with someone that may not be in such great shape themselves, but doesn’t talk about it. 

It seems that every friend I have ever had who bragged about how healthy they were, are no longer here on this planet. I had a friend who whenever we met for lunch always bragged about how great her doctor check up was and what super health she was in. Well, a week after our last lunch she died of a stroke. 

Another constantly bragged about the amount of supplements he was taking, his healthy diet my hub and and I should follow and his love of tennis. Melanoma did him in.

I have several other examples I can talk about, but I think you kind a get the drift of my thoughts. If you have a trusted friend, or within your family circle that you want to share your exuberance with, hey, that’s OK. But don’t make it general conversation and part of your constant repertoire, because you may be tempting fate. 

Personally I don’t want to hear how many times a week you go to the gym or how many days you run a 5K or what diet I need to follow that is perfect to live into my hundreds. Just leave me alone. I think by this time I am able to manage balancing on my toes near the edge of this fragile cliff of life we over 50 folks find ourselves. I’ll figure it out on my own and hope my expiration date is well into the future. 

By the way, did you read a glass of wine everyday will extend your life? Oops!

Copyright Sandra Hart 2016. All rights reserved.