Huhm? What? Who?

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I have absolutely no idea when I finally went to bed, or, even when I actually woke.  The blur between waking, dreaming, sleeping, and all is an absolute blur... a reality slurry of those ingredients put into a blender and given the ol' 'gee whiz' from the device.  Here is sort of what might, could, and some of what for sure did happen.

After that last post I listened to a bit more music.  There is something fascinating about my last lady love.  I was coming to God, finding some of the truths of love with women, and losing her, all at the same time.  And she was no ordinary woman, child, crone.  Women are all three, once you get to know them.   Anyway, so I went in for a nap, or to sleep.  At this point, on the new medicines, I had no idea what would happen when I crawled under the covers.  For a guy who could still be on the heart transplant list I am doing quite well.  For whatever that really means.  Nothing means what it should though, I am quite a unique piece of equipment myself.  Cardiology nurses are comforted by the beat of my heart, it is so solid and good sounding to their ears.  People ask me what I do for a living, I look healthy not mostly dead.  Even my cardiology doctor, not the intern but the guy who has been doing this for thirty years or more, thought from his testing that my heart must be... pretty much healed, if the echo cardiogram proved that absolutely wrong.  Imagine that, all of it.

Anyway, so crawling into bed on any given day is a crap shoot.  But on recently increased doses of medicine, it is doubly so.  My mother called back this morning, sometime after I had fallen asleep.  I woke though, well enough to talk.  I filled her in on the good news.  Improved heart function.  I also wanted to hear how her foot is doing.  Painful, still healing, but better and better and far better even so than before the surgery.  Back to sleep after that, for a bit, until the alarm?  Or did I just use that time, while still almost awake, to call Midas and cancel?  Or was it too early?  Dunno.  But I did call Midas a bit after 8:30?  Something, and I did cancel.  The fellow even remembered about the gas cap.  Then, at some time later, the V.A. called, one of the P.A.s at the heart clinic (I do like those ladies if I think one of them can be quite put out with me... in a school marmish way).  I think it was the one I stress who called.  And, by the way, she is... pleased with my efforts and that I am finally taking a more active role, or doing my best, or now or currently able to participate more fully.  Ah, she believes that raising the coreg(carvedilol) to 25 mg twice a day is the way to go.  My bp, generally at 150/105 average, is still too high.  And while it is, 25 mg is the max I can take.  Period.  Though there is room to increase one of my other medicines.  I forgot to tell her I am cutting my water pills a bit, but...  Heck, I am doing good to have answered, and to remember the increase.

After that?  Fog.  I think the girls woke me once.  Not happy having poppo sleep through what has typically been feeding time, despite giving them three cans a day until I normalize as a... token gift for the changes... the girls where beating on my door.  I know I grumbled, may have come out and told them no and chased them enough to know that feeding times have changed, then gone back to bed without feeding them (they still had dry and my synapses weren't firing well enough to figure out anything else anyway).  Then back to bed.  A call, at almost 18:00.  Tonight was the supper!  What time was supper?  Uhrm, 18:00.  Heh!  I had set my phone to give an alarm, but the alarm on it is poor, really only good if I am already awake and just not paying attention.  I need to get an app for that, a serious calendar and alarm system type of thing.  I need a nagging alarm, or one that can use the incoming phone call ring to let me know.  So, with minutes to prep, I actually got to it.  I missed one event, wasn't going to miss two.  The other was for illness, from the flu shot I think, but missing is missing, makes no difference to me why I missed.

In moments, on pure instinct because not a synaptic connection could be made, I showered, did my hair, dressed, hit the door, and was on my way.  I doubt if the whole thing took fifteen minutes, though as if I would have known.  I truly enjoy smaller events.  A bit of socialization, seeing my neighbors but as an adult, not a sick man who receives food.  Listening to how others are living, what they think, watching the interplays between neighbors themselves, between husbands and wives, and as communities.  As a foreigner, and a bachelor, I am a misfit, whether LDS, Catholic, or other such groups.  And yet my will is toward those ends, so it isn't that I am a complete stranger to the notions.  Many of these folks are quite God given, they do as they understand, and that is very good.  I am no stranger, in this, either.  If we differ, I differ with most religious.  My life has lead me to understandings, no other I have met save a few monks, quite... perceive similarly.  Anyone with a life that calls on secular involvements will have a different perception than one who has tons of free time to... ponder, along with no real duties that might require them to... placate the Godless at times to a degree, or even abide the rules and such of men in congregate.  And for me it is more.  Dancing on both sides of death, and so closely, I have an absolutely different tone and approach to God.  Not better, not worse, just... with a different focus by needs.

I just returned, leaving a bit early.  I stayed longer this time though.  I start falling though.  The adrenaline rush that allows me to attend smaller events only lasts just so long.  When it begins to diminish I begin hitting lows, and wanting to sleep.  A crash.  I can resist the urge, need, want, of sleep, even when I get home.  But only if I close things down a bit.  My guess is the reason I can look so good, healthwise, is because of having seen so much 'trouble'.  I can and do, at times, push into biological places others with a bad heart have never seen.  Adrenaline, and the other gunk like it, can keep you alive when you are so far past exhaustion, pain tolerances, hunger, or any serious mix of stresses that cause many to shut down.  But it can only be used if the door to it has been opened by continuous use, perhaps outright abuse.  I have literally lived on adrenaline right through death a few times.   It's a gift, but a cursed one. 

All good, very nice.  Hmm, did I just write something?  Still not awake, aware, firing consciously on even three of the eight cylinders.  I am awake, but I have no idea what it is I am supposed to do.  Later?