Tuesday, June 9, 2015


I did the other day notice that the rhythms of my atrial fibrillations were different from their usual erratic (not erotic) beat. They felt like the gaspings of fish out of water and the pantings of a thirsty dog. Having already had two heart attacks, I was alarmed and went to see my cardiologist. She was at first quite puzzled, and ordered a series of tests, including cardiograms and scans. After several hectic hours being wheeled back and forth from one department to another, I was informed by a fairly large group of doctors and technicians that I had an ailment unique in medical history: THERE WAS DUST AND COBWEBS IN SOME AREAS OF MY HEART! Their conclusion was that my condition was not amenable to any medical or pharmaceutical treatment, but required the attention of a counselor or therapist who could help me get "involved with other human beings." It seems that over the last few years I have steadily withdrawn from the rest of the world, corresponding less and less, disconnecting my telephone, refusing all kinds of invitations, sometimes going days without talking with anyone. I even posted a large NO VISITORS sign on my front door. Thus, caring and sharing less and less, my heart started aching for the companionship, camaraderie, communion and social interchanges without which it cannot fulfill its role as something more than a mere pump. So, drastic changes are in order. Where do I begin?

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