It Is What It Is. Isn't It?

Approaching heart surgery, I’ve been given a plethora of advice. I know all mean well, but the most troubling has been the uninvited offerings of spiritual equations. It boils down to my recovery or survival contingent upon if I’m prayed up, questionable doors are closed, and a hedge of protection being bestowed upon me. What if I achieved all those mandates and still don’t make it? What if the person in the next bed is a proclaimed atheist and survives? Where will logic blossom in that irony? I’m chuckling as I write. I’m sure the conclusion would be that God has something in store for the atheist or, the most frequently used talking point to explain spiritual conundrums is, “God’s ways are not our ways.” That leaves the door wide open for any rationalization you can imagine.

I’ve been told by an individual that my heart ailment is the result of an oath I’ve taken as a Master Mason. Yes, I’m serious. Over the years I have been witness to extreme connect-the-dot “Spirit filled” revelations that have been given personally by God. Nothing is left untouched in this realm and it includes and not limited to angel feathers magically appearing, angels hanging out in people’s backyards, and picnic table discussions with Satan himself. That in itself is scary but not as scary as watching the masses that devour such dribble as “infallible truth” then defend and argue such imaginings and count it a badge of honor if others call them insane. Their prophetic success rate is even par with psychics who cold read clients and concoct fate through tarot cards. An ironic turn of karmic happening flopped in the individual’s lap who continues to slander the Masonic craft, but I’ll leave that behind ‘a closed door.’

Carl Sagan addressed this topic in his phenomenal book “The Demon-Haunted World.” Here are a couple of paragraphs worth considering.

“In the diagnosis of disease, Hippocrates introduced elements of the scientific method. He is chiefly celebrated because of his efforts to bring medicine out of the pall of superstition and into the light of science. Hippocrates wrote: “Men think epilepsy divine, merely because they do not understand it. But if they called everything divine which they do not understand, why, there would be no end of divine things.” Instead of acknowledging that in many areas we are ignorant, we have tended to say things like the Universe is permeated with the ineffable. A God of the Gaps is assigned responsibility for what we do not yet understand. As knowledge of medicine improved since the fourth century B.C., there was more and more that we understood less and less that had to be attributed to divine intervention – either in the causes or in the treatment of diseases.
We can pray for the cholera, or we can give her 500 milligrams of tetracycline every 12 hours. (There is still a religion, Christian Science, that denies the germ theory of disease; if prayer fails, the faithful would rather see their children die than give them antibiotics.) We can try nearly futile psychoanalytic talk therapy on the schizophrenic patient, or we can give him 300 to 500 milligrams a day of clozapine. The scientific treatments are hundreds or thousands of times more effective than the alternatives. (And even when the alternatives seem to work, we don’t actually know if they played any role: Spontaneous remissions, even of cholera and schizophrenic, can occur without prayer and without psychoanalysis.) Abandoning science means abandoning much more than air conditioning, CD player, hair dyers, and fast cars.”

What if life just happens? I’ve experienced several unexplainable events personally and within my family that allow moments of wonder to percolate, but I’m not willing to dumb down unexplainable events as mystical forces working for or against me.

A cynical outlook? Perhaps, but I’m leaning more towards the tangible than the invisible and that view doesn’t necessarily conflict with hope. That is another matter entirely. The power of prayer, well wishes and thoughtful encouragement can contribute to recovery but in the vast mechanism of life I sense it’s more of a consoling practice than a changing of destiny. When others believe in you it creates hope and hope is a powerful force. Hope is what it’s all about and it should not be tied to any type of spiritual bartering to appease a mystical force. I think we need to hope in ourselves as well for the continuation of being. As my great grandmother would say, “If wishes were fishes we’d have some for supper.”

I’ve made my choices and believe I have the best team to perform my surgery. It is what it is. Just a few thoughts while awaiting the unknown.

“I think I’m cursed,” said my oldest daughter as we sat on the couch plagued by sickness for the second day. I started thinking about her comment when today found me worse than when I began the antibiotic Avelox 400mg, Qvar 80mcg Inhaler and Singulair this past Monday afternoon. I have been controlling my food intake and my blood sugars are maintained yet I’m still racked with body aches and rattling lungs. My heart is irregular, but I don’t believe it’s in atrial-fib but just to be safe I called my doctor since it’s getting difficult to breath. To the casual observer this would be a great moment to consider calling an ambulance, but I’ve lived this drill for over 15 years though I will admit this one does have my attention.

The last time I had these symptoms was during Thanksgiving 2009 while visiting family in Mississippi. It cost hundreds of dollars only to be told to see my cardiologist. An addition couple a hundred dollars for an echocardiogram and two series of chest x-rays and the diagnosis was “Well, it must have been something you’ve done.” The best cardiologist money can buy and I get a theory. The medical practice is a joke. As my uncle says, “They practice medicine alright. They practice on you for the next guy.” I was drinking moderately at the time while overeating, so I think I can contribute that Thanksgiving episode to what is termed as “holiday heart.” Today, I can’t tell you what is wrong with me. I’m short of breath and have difficulty walking across the house or talking for an extended time. I called the doctor’s office at 3:00pm and it’s now 6:00pm with no call back. Nice to know my symptoms do not require immediate action. $100 says the on-call doctor calls within the hour telling me to go to the nearest ER. I think that’s a rubber stamp answer doctors are required to give to avoid liability law suits. My new heart medicine is Multaq, an experimental drug and I hope I’m not the 1 in a 100 that has an adverse side effect.

It’s hard not turning to the cupboard when anxieties like these occur. I’m trying to treat the desire to binge on "sugar/carb anything" as if I’m contemplating taking a drink. Truth be told, I really have no overwhelming compulsion for a drink. Alcohol has not been kind to me since the diabetes has settled in and in fact it has been down right vicious to me emotionally and physically. Most of my medicines include a warning label with: DO NOT CONSUME ALCOHOL WITH THIS MEDICATION. I always thought it a suggestion, nothing really to take seriously. My last drunk really, REALLY hurt. Food is that easier softer way to quell that demon within.

Speaking of Demons…

My oldest daughter, as I mentioned, believes she is cursed. I asked her where she got such a notion and she replied that ever since she saw a black, lumpy shadow mass coming towards her from our bedroom she feels something is out to get her. She is contributing bad health with evil spirits. I have no idea where she gets these ideas and I’m hoping it’s not from Sunday school. Her last happy experience from a Sunday school teaching was when they told her she was going to hell for lying. It was big fun trying to console a crying six year old that she wasn't going to burn. I tried to explain viruses and bacteria to no avail. I almost asked if sacrificing chickens and beating drums would appease our unwanted guest but I let it go. She’s only eight, but no more Mystery Hunters for her. My wife felt that my involvement in paranormal investigations contributed to my health decline. I’m amazed by superstitious notions. Poor diet and untreated alcoholism win my vote. If there’s a fat inducing vomit enhancing demon that forces people to eat Pop-Tarts and drink to oblivion then she may be right. No matter how much I distance myself from the evangelical heebie jeebies it has now left an undesirable imprint on my daughter’s cognitive reasoning.

By the way, the doctor called as I was writing and suggested I go to the hospital. No lie. Whoever bet against me owes me a Ben. He said it is either the heart or lungs; point blank simple to him. We’ll see. I reminded him that no one had an answer as to the cause after a battery of tests. I think I’ll go for x-rays in the morning at their office and sidestep a bill as large as a mortgage payment from the ER. If I go through all this and once again the diagnosis is a shoulder shrug, then I may consider that strange notion of ‘a demon behind every bush.’

A Side Note:

I have had three strange Déjà vu moments within a month’s time that creep me out. Nothing significant about the event but there was an underlining feeling that these moments began a count down to some life changing happening. While experiencing this phenomenon I knew what each person was going to say and the direction the conversation would go. Somehow I felt charged to remember the significance of these revealed moments but it fails me. Absolutely insane I know. But, I do have this nagging feeling of being unsettled by it all. An actor who missed his cue. I’ve had dreams come true and impressions so strong that I was able to predict future events. I have also been wrong quite often as well. I’m no prophet so I’ll let time reveal what will be. It always does.