OH, BY THE WAY

About that stress test, when I went in to see my primary physician, she had not heard the result and so looked it up on the computer right then, acknowledging that if she hadn't heard anything, then the news must be good. She looked at the page with the result and simply said, "Normal."

Told you all there was nothing wrong with my heart, but it is so nice to know it. Now, I have had almost every test they give to women "of a certain age"and I believe that they can now leave me alone for a while. I am quite happy with where I am. I think.

Writing and Thinking ... or should it be Thinking and Writing

I suppose that I should think before I write; and thus far, I have been thinking for about three weeks on things I want to write about here. I do try to get the ideas straight in my head before I begin; and sometimes that leaves long, empty spaces between Blogs. I don't mean to do that, but I am simply not one to write a comment about what I had for supper and call it a blog. I cannot do that. I blog because I want to say something and I want to share that with whomever wants to read what I write.

I really want to write about the economic situation and that one goes round and round in my head. I also want to write about writing when the readers so often know that I was an English teacher as well as about reading others' blogs when yes, the writers also know that I was an English teacher. Something else that goes round and round in my head is my idea of patriotism as opposed to much of what I read and hear these days.

And I think I would like to write some things about my childhood. About some of my favorite places. About other memories. I would hate to make this just a place where I relive much of my past, but there are things I remember that I want to write about. I will get there.  What sounds good to you, anyone reading?  Guess I am a little too late to write about American Idol; but I may anyway.

At least, this gives me a list to work from so that tomorrow some time I might write something. Or not. We shall see.

FOLLOW UP TO MY APRIL 29 POST

Guess what? Today I had a Nuclear Stress Test. My doctor felt that as a woman of "a certain age" and after all of last week's excitement, I needed to have a stress test to make certain that my heart was just fine. Now, I know that all is well; but for some reasons, doctors need proof!

It was a very simple thing. All I had to do was sit still, first while the technician took nuclear pictures -- or something equally magnificent -- of my heart muscle at work. She had injected a small amount of a radioactive substance into my veins so that when I lay on the table underneath the gamma camera, it was able to produce images of my heart at rest. Then she took me into the stress test room where rather than walking on the treadmill, I was given a medication that caused my heart to react as if I were actually exercising, causing the coronary arteries to widen and the blood flow to increase.

After that, a second set of images were taken with the gamma camera so that the two sets could be compared to determine whether there were any heart damage or any place blood was not flowing correctly. It was all very simple and although it took about three hours, it was quite an easy thing to do.

It was the actual stressing of the heart that told me something, that gave me information about myself and the experience that I had had last week. When the technician injected me with the medication that would simulate exercise, I felt all of the effects she had told me that I would: cold, shortness of breath, shaking, tears (well, she didn't mention the tears, but I had them) and I felt just as I had felt last week when I went to the Emergency Room. To me, that was very interesting. Although nothing had shown up as being wrong with my heart when I was checked in the ER, I felt the same effects that night as I felt today.

The tech didn't seem too concerned about that and I'm not either. What I have decided is that what I felt the other night was a good reason to go to the ER, as I did feel the same way that I felt today when my heart was working hard. It might have been an overworked heart, but it wasn't. It was some sort of panic attack set off by American Idol. (Well, not really. It was some sort of a fake panic attack that I will recognize next time.) And you know what? After my experience today, I will probably go right back to the ER if I ever feel that way again. I have learned that it might be real. My heart might be working too hard.

SWINE FLU, OH MY

So much has been written and so much more has been said about this year's flu scare that I decided to get my voice in on this! Now, I know that it isn't swine flu ... really; it's A/H1N1. Actually, swine flu came through the United States three times in the twentieth century and twice it got me. That's why I have been upset when so many people pooh-poohed the whole thing and could see no reason in anyone's or any school district's taking any preventative measures that they wouldn't ordinarily take for the seasonal flu.

I don't think that most people who have complained knew that there was any relationship whatsoever between the swine flu of 1918 and that which we might yet have in 2009. The pandemic of 1918 was called Spanish flu because the Spanish people spoke up and declared that Spain had a major epidemic on their hands and thus the flu that year was called Spanish flu. It really wasn't theirs. In fact, it probably began in China just as did the swine flu of 1957 and the swine flu of 1968. (And did you know that the Spanish flu was A/H1N1?  Sound familiar?)  

The Asian flu (we called it) in 1957 is one of which I have a very personal memory. I was in college, living in a dormitory, a dormitory that suddenly one week was filled with very sick females. One day, Peggy and Bert began making potato soup for those unable to walk to the dining hall; and the next day, those two were out trying to recruit others to help them as the number of sick had doubled. (I don't have any idea whether the school knew just how many were ill yet. It was a weekend and school activities continued.)

What I do remember was waking up in the middle of the night to walk around the corner to the bathroom and hearing my head hit the concrete floor of the hall. Yes, apparently, I had fainted; and when Peggy, who lived right there on the corner, heard me crash, she came running with a thermometer and I was put to bed. 

I was sick, very sick. High fever. Horrible headache. In fact, I ached everywhere. And violent chills. It's the chills that I remember most. Fever. Chills. Wet sheets. And debilitating fatigue. Monday morning, I made my way to the infirmary only to discover there was no place to sit. Women everywhere were sitting in the floor waiting to be seen. Finally, at some point the doctor came out and told us that he was asking that the school be closed.

In those days, communication was by long distance operator and coins in the pay telephone. And transportation was by parents. There were few cars on campus and mostly seniors owned those few. I don't remember just how the word got around. I do remember the doctor telling us to call our parents to come and get us and I remember that my mother did come. She took a car filled with others who could meet their parents in Cleburne and get home that way. 

I don't remember how many or who, but I know that those who were not sick weren't feeling too good at that time. Medication for the flu in those days at the school was Benadryl and the original antibiotic, sulfa. My mother was an RN and at least, I know that I was well cared for at home, but I don't remember any of it. 

At home, there were stories about the flu on TV; and even though we didn't have 24/7 news as we do these days, we had enough news programs that I remember seeing what looked like gyms filled with cots containing sick college students in other states who had not been able to get home and were being cared for in large groups. That picture alone made me quite alert when I heard this year that once again swine flu was alive in Texas and prowling the state. And it is photographs like that that caused officials this year to close entire school districts. 

When we went back to school that year, we all went back exhausted. It seems that most of the schools closed for that week as the swine flu that we knew as Asian flu ravaged the college campuses in Texas and most of us who had it were weak for the rest of the semester. But all of us did come back and that was far better for us than being one of the more than 70,000 in the United States who died that fall.

In 1968, swine flu came around again and this time it was called Hong Kong flu; and this time I was teaching school. One of my very favorite students was being married and I was determined not to get sick so that I could be there for her wedding. This time, I fainted again; but my head didn't bounce off a concrete floor. No, this time, I was coming down the stairs (in straight skirt, girdle, stockings, high heels, the entire works: that's how we did it in those days) and I fell to the bottom of those stairs. 

It didn't seem to hurt anything other than my vanity; but I did leave and go home. And oh was I sick again. This time it seemed to last and last; and I did go to the wedding somewhere in the midst of all that: before, after, or in the middle of having the flu I don't know. I was just sick an awfully long time. Again it was high fever and chills, horrible headaches, body aches,  extreme fatigue; and it went on and on, night and day, only abating for a short while each time I took aspirin.

Every day, I heard about more teachers going home sick; and one day Mr. Jones, my principal, called and asked if I could come back to school. He was a wonderful principal and I would have done anything for him and thus, I went back. I didn't last an entire day before I was back home: fever, chills, ache.

Oh, I know what the real flu feels like; I also know that the flu isn't something that lasts two or three days and you are right back to work. Flu is a two-week monster. After two weeks I went to my doctor for that official piece of paper that said that I had really been ill and out of school. When he asked whether I felt as if a freight train had run over me and left me there to die, I knew that he understood just how I felt; and so I felt free to ask him just how long I would feel this bad. When he told me that I probably would not feel well for at least six months, I swore that I was not going to do this ever again.

And now, perhaps, you understand why I have become upset each time someone said something like, "Oh we have flu every year. What's the big deal?" Well, the big deal, my dear, is that swine flu isn’t like the seasonal flu that we see every year. The big deal is that swine flu is virulent. When one in the family has it, everyone else has it. In 1957 entire towns had it at the same time.

And the symptoms that go along with swine flu are more violent than for the seasonal flu. There is always fever, usually well over 100 degrees; and with the fever, there come chills, body aches, terrible headaches, and extreme fatigue. And it goes on and on. You aren't over it in a weekend of good sleep. Swine flu as experienced in the United States lingers; and then when you finally feel well enough to go back to work, it hangs on just enough to make you feel terrible as you work.

Nope, I have had it  ... twice; and I do not want it ever again. And I know that this year’s swine flu isn’t finished. When it starts in the spring, it continues in the fall and finishes only as spring comes 'round again; and we yet have next fall  and winter yet to live through. Thank goodness, the CDC seems to believe that those of us who had swine flu in 1957 are immune to this flu from now on. I do hope so, for except for Tamiflu, which seems to work if it is taken in the first 24 hours to lessen the symptoms, we aren't much beyond the sulfa drugs of 1957. 

At least, we have gone beyond the things which were used in 1918 when doctors were unable to find anything which really worked and people who lived away from city doctors made their own medications, coming up which such palliatives as a  liniment, warmed and applied to the chest, made of hog lard, kerosene, and camphor or a cough syrup made from boiled cherry tree bark, sweetened with sugar and whisky. Nope, not interested in ever having swine flu again.

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MUSIC THIS SIDE OF HEAVEN

As you know, I have said before that I am very selective about the music to which I listen; and in particular, I am very particular / discriminating / picky about the sacred music with which I surround myself. I have always found a drawing near to G-d in much of the liturgical classical music, as in Bach's many chorales and in his oratorio. And although I grew up in the Broadman Hymnal and could play and sing everything in the book something there was always lacking.

Of course, as a musician and church soloist, I frequently sang in many of the local churches; and whenever I sang in the church of a different denomination from the one in which I usually sang, I enjoyed singing the hymns from all those other churches, so rich in their history and liturgy. That way, I found several other hymns that I found meant so much to me. But still, something was missing in the music ministry.

And then, several years ago, I found what I had always missed: music taken completely from the scripture. Oh yes, there are many of the great hymns which draw much of their words or phrases directly from the Bible; but they were the grand hymns of the great hymn writers of Christianity and so often contained so many ideas and so much scripture that it was often difficult to take from them one specific scriptural idea.

But some time in the 70's I found a series of albums called Scripture in Song; and in them I found what I had been looking for, songs in which one specific scriptural idea was expressed, songs that a non-singing congregation could easily sing and remember, songs they could take home in their hearts and souls and sing in the car and in the kitchen. I'm sure that by now you have heard some of them and either you liked the use of a simple scripture song from time to time or you felt that such music was too simple, not really musical enough.

Nevertheless, in the church which I attended in those days, these songs were used from time to time; and it seemed to me, used in exactly the right way. At communion, the choir might sing "Oh Sacred Head now wounded / With grief and shame weighed down / Now scornfully surrounded / With thorns Thy only crown," one of my very favorite hymns, followed by "When I survey the wondrous cross / On which the Prince of Glory died / My richest gain I count but loss / And pour contempt on all my pride." 


And then they would begin a simple song with words taken directly from the Psalms, words of simple praise that were sung straight from the heart of the worshippers. "Oh, magnify the L-rd with me / Let us exhalt His name together," words that expressed their response to the true meaning of communion, words that allowed the people to pour out their response to G-d, a simple song of praise which they could carry in their hearts and sing to themselves and to G-d. I had found the music that I had missed during all those years.

And it all blended so beautifully and made so much sense liturgically and spiritually. It was so right. That is what I had always missed in the church hymns, a simple melody, easy to sing and a lyric from the scripture itself that we could remember whenever we needed the assurance of our faith and sing to ourselves, part prayer, part affirmation, part ministry. Here were the songs that would come to me when I needed G-d, needed to pray, needed prayer. Here were songs to which I could remember all the words as I drove down the long highway toward a doctor's office or sat waiting for anticipated results, songs I could sing alone in the kitchen as I celebrated success or anticipated a terrific afternoon. Scripture I could sing. For me, it was the most beautiful music this side of Heaven.

And if that sounds like some radio advertisement, well, it is the description of the music to which I listen while on the computer, a radio station on the computer at PBNRadio.com. There, the most beautiful music being written today plays 24 hours a day, praise and worship music that lifts up the weary soul and brings the worshipping believer near to the Throne of G-d. Now, not every song is a direct quotation from scripture, but every song does come directly from the Word of G-d and every song does give the listener scripture he can sing back to G-d in praise. I know. I listen and I am a happier person for having that sound go deep within to become a real part of me. And I invite you to come there and listen with me. You will be blessed beyond your belief.

TIME MEANS NOTHING TO ME

Apparently, time means nothing to me. Here I am at 4:30 in the morning sitting at my computer and watching QVC on the nearby TV. Now, this would ordinarily be ridiculous and I would not tell anyone; but today is Fashion Day on QVC and even when I cannot afford to buy, I do enjoy watching to see what is out there, what is being worn, and what is being sold.

Now, QVC is not what you may think. It isn't a lot of junk being pushed by a few celebrity wanna be's, no matter what you have heard from the smart mouths on TV. The hosts are truely talented, as well as warm and friendly people you would actually enjoy knowing. Yes, some very funny (silly) things happen from time to time that are shown (and laughed at ) on (Talk) Soup; but for the most part, the shows are genuinely entertaining. And that is what I am looking for at 4:30 in the morning.

Besides, as I said, it is Fashion Day and that means good looking clothes and shoes and leather jackets and sunglasses and handbags (oh my gosh! the handbags), all at prices most of us can afford. It isn't like trying to purchase something at the mall. First of all, there is a huge selection and a lot of variety. While everything is up to the minute, there is still something for everyone. You can find whatever it is that you need or want, from soft silky sexy blouses to cotton gauze shirts or from well tailored pencil skirts in good men's wear fabric to linen slacks in a dozen colors: it is all there.

And it fits. The sizing is standardized through all of the various lines. Whether I purchase something from one of QVC's own lines or something from a well known New York designer, every garment in a size fits the same way. If I wear a size medium (oh for the day) in Denim and Company, I can wear a medium in Pamela Dennis or George Simonton. That means that if I see something I want, I can simply order it and not worry about whether it will fit. It will fit. And if, for the sake of argument, it doesn't fit, I can always return it for a full refund, no questions asked.

Besides that, the clothing is well made. I own several items of clothing  that I purchased in the early 90's that look as good today as they did when I first bought them.  And that is quite unusual for clothing. From time to time, they show some of the testing the garments go through before they are accepted for sale. If all garments that we can buy were so tested, we wouldn't need to buy as many things as we do. Instead, our clothing would wear and wear and not wear out!

The prices are wonderful even after I add in the tax and the shipping cost. I cannot buy a well made pair of dress pants in my size in a wonderful, wearable fabric, with a choice of half a dozen colors for less than $30 anywhere at the local mall. I can buy cheaply made pants in one or two colors (maybe) that last perhaps for a year; but a nice pair of well made slacks begins at $60 and may well go on to $200 for a good brand of clothing.  The highest price I have seen on a pair of slacks was on a pair of designer made lined summer weight wool slacks. They were $109. Try that at Macy's.

The whole thing makes such good sense. I have wonderful pieces of clothing that no one else has. I never see myself out in public. I seem to have my own personal designer who makes certain that I dress very well and quite inexpensively. So, this morning I am sitting here looking at things that are made just for me. I have quite a choice of styles and every style comes in a great choice of colors. Just how many garments do you think will be for sale in the 25 hours of today's Fashion Day? And each of those will be in my size. Every one of them comes in my size. And in a great choice of colors. Now, you know why I haven't shopped in the mall since 1990 and I am very well dressed.

Fashion Day doesn't end until midnight Eastern time tonight, and I do plan to watch most of it. I can sleep tonight sometime. After all, I'm retired. I don't really have to do anything that I don't want to do now, do I? So, I am doing exactly what I want to do: enjoying life.