You can do anything for X number of minutes

Editorial Note: This post was written last Monday, and posted today. I didn’t realize it’s been sitting as a draft all this time.

Since we were last together (hello there!), I have walked every day for at least 30 minutes. — This is still true! I have walked every day for at least 30 minutes, sometimes more!

I’ve also eaten more food than one person should consume, but let’s focus on the fact that I HAVE BEEN OUTSIDE IN SNEAKERS AND HAVE TAKEN SOME WALKS. — Food consumption is fluctuating. Some days I’m just not that hungry. Some days I eat all three meals, and then some. Remember in that episode of the West Wing when Donna comes back to work after almost dying in a car bomb accident while in Gaza with Andrea Wyatt and Chairman Fitzwallace (ret., RIP), and Commander Harper asks her if she’d like to talk about that experience with her, figuring that as a woman who has also been through that same kind of experience (I assume; Kate doesn’t get specific but one can hypothesis that Kate saw some Stuff) (not knowing that Donna sometimes struggles with opening up to other attractive blond females; see: Hayes, A.), Donna might be more comfortable telling her things. Anyway, Donna goes to Kate later and she says, Listen, I know I need to talk to someone but I’m not ready, and she lays out for Kate that she recognizes the Signs of Trauma.

Nobody tried to blow me up. But I do have that same feeling sometimes, and I know that my lack of patience, my frustration with people, my eating habits, are all pointing toward getting some shit off my chest, but I just don’t have time for that right now. Everything is fine. We never see Donna and Kate have that conversation, and so maybe that means it never happened, and if Donna didn’t need it, maybe I won’t either. What kind of cake is it Donna? It’s cake, Irene.

I trust in Donna’s wisdom.

It hasn’t been that hard. Seriously. Even Patrick and the kid went with me one time. Tonight my friend is coming over to take me for walk no. 2 of the day, and even though it’s 88 degrees outside, I’m looking forward to it. — My friend has been an excellent source of walks, and I truly appreciate her for this. I don’t think she realizes how great it is of her.

I’m also looking forward to hanging out with our new kitten, just adopted today. Her name is Juno, and she is very sweet. Check my Instagram for photos, which you can access by clicking on the handy “Social Media” tab on this blog. Cool beans, I mean right? — Jesus H. Christ, that kitten is adorable. Like, she is the best kitten ever. I am thrilled to pieces with her. She’s one of the best things about this whole stupid year.

What's next?

I just got off the phone with my cardiologist.

The hightlights of that conversation are:

• My heart is normal (ha! I told him he might need to call some people to confirm).

• The monitor caught some episodes of atrial fibrillation and atrial tachycardia; atrial fibrillation is more serious, which we kind of knew already. He asked if I felt it when it happened: um, yes, doctor, I felt it, did you?

He said that my options were to move to a secondary medication that works with the electrical system of the heart, but which could have "side effects that are not as benign as metoprolol" (that's what I'm currently taking). I haven’t noticed any major side effects from the metoprolol, except that I misspell the word “metoprolol” every single time. I guess being tired is one of them, and I’ve certainly experienced being tired but who hasn’t been tired lately? My general malaise and ennui has been ongoing for a long time; it might just be my natural state. Let’s not blame science.

There's also a surgical option, which is more invasive and problematic, and as he said, “Generally tolerated well by people with a normal heart structure [of which I am one; could you please write that down?] and good for people who don’t like taking medication.”

I don’t like taking medication but I’m pretty sure I like it better than surgery.

Then, I asked him what could have caused this whole shebang, and he said, "Genetics, sleep apnea, lack of exercise." But, since my episodes occur during the day and not just at night, he doesn't think sleep apnea is it.

I admitted to being basically inert for the past year and a half. He agreed that could have something to do with it, and didn’t sound too smug when he did it. (He’s a nice guy.)

So the plan is this: we are going to keep my medication the same and he “prescribed” 30 minutes of walking a day, and then he will check in with me in three months. I put voice to my fears about having a stroke (why was it so hard to talk about this? I don’t know, but it is) and mentioned my varicose veins and though he didn't say "Irene, that is crazy! Girl you are NOT going to have a stroke,” he did add a daily baby aspirin to my meds. He doesn’t think the varicose veins have anything to do with anything but was probably happy for the visual. Sir, you are welcome.

Now, if I couldn’t be trusted to write in this stupid blog every day for more than 5 days, can I be trusted to walk 30 minutes a day every day? Honestly, I don’t know. But I kind of have to do it. So? Let’s go. To quote Abby Bartlet (and if you read the last post, you know that I can): Game on, boyfriend.

Day 5

I’m finding that on a daily basis, I don’t have a ton of stuff to say. I’m not the most talkative person in my family, either, believe it or not.

I’ve been watching The West Wing and listening to The West Wing Weekly, a podcast made by a major Aaron Sorkin fan and Josh Malina, one of the actors from the show. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched the entire series all the way through, but it’s a lot. The podcast is always on, while I work or shower or whatever. I like their voices. I like the way they make each other laugh.

Last night I dreamed that I was at an office job someplace, and Josh Malina stopped by my desk to tell me something. He leaned down next to my desk and told me he was getting married (in real life he’s married, to a woman he always refers to on the podcast as “the lovely Melissa,” which is sweet). In the dream, after the announcement, I said, Well, that sucked.

I don’t know if I was criticizing the delivery or the news itself, but that seemed harsh. Sorry, Josh. I think you’ve been married a long time, and you seem happy. I wish you nothing but a life of joy, and to be in my TV more often.

Day 4

I went to flute choir tonight because I won’t be able to go this weekend on Sunday because I’m getting a facial.

It was fun, and hard. The day started out weird when I messed up the coffee three times; by the time I was sight reading quartets at 7:30 I was a little fried, but it was fun.

I work tomorrow, my first Friday, so a short entry for today, but at least it got done. Goodnight.