In the End, the Heart Matters Most

So, it came to be after a long day that Brain laid upon the pillow yearning for a restful night of sleep.  Respite from the busyness of the day.  Brain felt it was well deserved for it had successfully navigated another day of taking care of business.  It is not easy being command central for the body and the many tasks it performs throughout the day.  Someone must take the horse by the reins and make sure everything functions as it should.  No one appreciates a body out of whack, especially the human it represents.  At the end of the day, the Brain had successfully completed the task and longed for the bliss sleep promised. 

“Ah, the comfort of sleep,” declared Brain as it slowly melted into the softness of the pillow.  Within minutes Brain was asleep and sawing logs.  As sweet dream swirled about there was a calmness of peace filling Brain.  All was well.

 

Suddenly there was a sharp, piercing pain radiating from the third toe of the right foot.  Like an electrical shock . . . a sharp, piercing pain that snapped Brain from its sleep.  Damn! That hurt! What in God’s creation was that, wondered Brain.

 

“It’s just a little neuropathy,” said the toe.  “Just wanted to let you know that we’ve come out to play.”  Of course, Brain tried to ignore the pain and go back to sleep.  Toe, on the other hand, was just warming up.  Literally.  The shock was only the prelude to the main event neuropathy had to offer.  It was just warming up and inviting the rest of the feet to participate.  It was not long before both feet were radiating with a burning sensation.  Hot feet!

 

Despite Brain’s attempt to ignore the pain and burning sensation . . . even forcing the body to kick off the bed’s covers . . . it was difficult to not acknowledge this disruption to sleep.  The feet’s hot flash was hard to ignore.  Eventually the coolness of the air cooled the feet and Brain was able to resume sleeping . . .

 

. . . for a while.  A throbbing ache quietly picked up where the feet’s neuropathy left off.  The throbbing slowly woke Brain with its incessant ache.  It was hard to ignore.  Now what, thought Brain.  “It’s us,” came the reply.  “Us hands and our buddy arthritis.  Just want to let you know that we are here and ready to play.”  Thump, thump.  Thump, thump. The aching moved across like waves lapping on a beach.  With each wave’s crash the hands let Brain know of arthritis’ presence.  Brain laid there wrenching with each beat of arthritis, longing for sleep.  Slowly but surely sleep returned.

 

The respite was not long.  Replacing the hands and their buddy arthritis was pressure pushing in the groin area.  It was not so much a pain as it was a discomfort . . . an urgent pushing demand for relief.  You’re kidding me, proclaimed Brain.  What now?

 

The Bladder Monkey!  It wanted to join in the fun too.  Jumping and bouncing on the bladder like it was some sort of trampoline.  Boing!  Boing!  Boing!  Up and down on the bladder . . . the full bladder after a day of imbibing upon countless beverages and that 3.7 liters of water to be consumed daily to be healthy.  The pressure was difficult to ignore and the Bladder Monkey continued its gleeful assault . . . boing! Boing!  Boing!  It wanted attention and it wanted it now.  Reluctantly and with grumpiness Brain forced the body to get up and take care of business.

 

Relieved, Brain once again found and embraced sleep.  Rolling the body on its side, Brain was in LaLa Land.

 

Then there was an ache . . . a pain from the hip.  The hip which the body chose to sleep on.  The ache was enough to wake Brain once again.  What now!  The feet had cooled down to warm embers.  The hands had gone into reprieve.  The Bladder Monkey was moping since the liquid had been released.  What was it now!

 

A pressure point on the hip.  The Brain had slept so hard it forgot to flip the body off its side.  After a while the hip had had enough and filed a complaint . . . persistently until Brain got the message.  Brain rolled over.  Finally, some peace and quiet.  Some sleep.

 

Bleep!  Bleep!  Rudely Brain was awakened from the hard-earned slumber . . . five minutes after appeasing the hip. Time to get up.  Time to head back to work.  Back to the ol’ grindstone.  The night was over.  Sleep was done.  Brain could not believe it.  Hoping for a restful night of sleep, Brain had only felt exhaustion having dealt with a renegade body all night.  A body that demanded attention . . . a needy body.  It exhausted Brain.

 

They say that it is “mind over matter” . . . that the Brain is the top dog . . . the one in control.  That night Brain learned differently.  Once Brain lowered the boundaries by seeking sleep, the body and its many parts jumped at the opportunity to raise some havoc.  The body let Brain know that they were there and not to be ignored.  Brain learned a tough lesson and one that it could not escape for it needed its sleep to function.  When the sun goes down and the night takes over, and sleep moves in . . . the kids come out to play.  That is life.   It was a frustratingly painful lesson for Brain.  It comes with age.

 

Yet little did Brain or the others know or realize . . . they were being watched.  Quietly observed.  Heart stood silently watching all the action taking place . . . all the antics . . . and it smiled at all the nose the body was making.  Smiled at Brain’s discomfort and frustration.  Smiled because it knew.  It knew who was really in charge and ran the show.  It wasn’t Brain.  It wasn’t the body and its many parts.  No, it was—Heart.  Without Heart there is nothing.  Nothing at all.  If Heart went, they all went.  It was as simple as that.  Heart sighed.  Maybe I should remind them, thought Heart.  They ought to know . . . nah, let them learn the hard way.

 

(This story is based on a recent sleepless night.)   

 

Even Death has a Heart

For the past couple of years we have had a doe and her two twins hanging around the ol’ homestead feeding off of the flowers in the garden and the bird feeders in the yard.  About a year ago the doe had another set of twins . . . now there were four children running around with Mom . . . same pattern of wiping out the flowers and eating up the seed in the bird feeders . . . and, occasional chopped apples secretly thrown into the yard by the wife.  Consistently they were entertainment for the wife and I . . . the wife more so than I as she had developed an emotional attachment to the little Cervidae family of critters . . . thus the illicit chopped apples  because “they need to eat, too.”

This evening, about 5:30PM, the mamma deer was hit by a car just down the street from the homestead as she was attempting to cross the highway.  Apparently the driver caught her in the rear, severing her spine from her legs, and leaving her on the side of the road as her four spawn watched from the other side of the road.  The wife did not see the encounter . . . she just happened to come across it on her way home from the town grocery store.  And, yes, it upset her . . . upset her quite a bit.

To make a long story short, the local yokel police came and shot it to put it out of its misery.  The four babies stood off to the side watching . . . watching and waiting . . . come on, Mom, get up!  The officer left it on the side of the road and went off to call the wildlife authorities to come and pick up the body . . . and, the babies waited.

Any critter hit by a car breaks the wife’s heart.  This was a special critter.  This was one she had grown attached to over the years and to see it laying there suffering . . . and, then later dead . . . shattered the heart.  I must admit though, she has hung in there and not started to cry despite the waver in her voice as she spoke about the whole thing.  The death of the does was hard, but watching the baby deer waiting was even more difficult.

Several weeks ago I hit a deer with my car . . . over $6,000 worth of damage of the car . . . needless to say that I am not a fan of deer running across the highway in the dusk of the evening as they have a tendency to run into motor vehicles like mine.  I have a few choice words for them, but in all honesty, I really lament whenever I have hit a deer.  Like some wimpy liberal I think about what is left behind . . . did I leave a bunch of orphans . . . cut a life short?  Of course, my logical side tells me it is just a deer . . . dime a dozen here in Montana (which is probably why we rank in the top ten in hitting deer every year).  Yet, I cannot help but to think . . .

. . . think about those four orphans left behind after the doe was hit by a car. 

I think that is what got to anyone who watched Walt Disney’s classic 1942 movie, Bambi, when his mother gets shot by a hunter while she is teaching Bambi how to find food in the winter.  There was nothing sadder than seeing Bambi lying next to his dead mother in the snow . . . our hearts were broken for the little fawn.  How was he to ever survive?  Isn’t that what ran through all of our minds . . . how was Bambi ever to survive the death of his mother?  As much as I liked that movie, I am not sure I am ready for my granddaughters to ever watch it . . . it has a lot of sadness in it.  They do not need such sadness in their lives at their age.  But, the bleeding heart liberal I have been accused of being thinks about that sort of stuff even if the darn deer ran into my car!

There is a sort of there is a sort of melancholy to this whole thing.  I feel bad for my wife because she really cared about that little family of deer that kept popping up into our lives.  I feel bad about the fact that the deer got killed . . . she really was a beautiful creature and a great mother to those four fawns.  I feel bad that there are now four orphans left behind to fend for themselves.  I wonder, will they survive?  To say the least, it is a sort of gloom that seeps into the mind . . . and, those gloomy thoughts go beyond just deer, it goes into one’s own life.

Who among us hasn’t thought of “what if?”  You know what I am talking about . . . what if I have an accident, die, and leave behind a family . . . what if I my spouse was to suddenly die or disappear or want a divorce . . . what if something happened to one of my children or grandchildren . . . what if . . . what if . . . what if!  We have all done it in our minds and hearts leaving behind nothing but melancholy thoughts and feelings.  It is amazing that a little doe being hit by a car can flip the switch and make us think, “What if?”

Unlike my wife, I did not go and look at the carnage of the deer/car collision.  Unlike the wife, I did not go and witness the somberness of the orphans left behind . . . waiting . . . and, waiting . . . come on, Mom, get up!  Unlike my wife, I did not go down to witness the doe lying dead beside the road . . . shot through the head.  No, I chose not to go because in my mind’s eye . . . within my heart . . . I already knew.  I already knew what would be running thorough my heart and mind.  The sadness had sunk in without even witnessing the scene of death.  The “what ifs” were zooming through my mind . . . it was a scene I had already played through my mind a hundred times . . .what if?

There are no promises in life.  Poop happens as our friends at Alcoholics Anonymous say.  Death does not make appointments.  We are often caught off guard despite our best preparations . . . and, we think . . . what if?  I have a deeply seeded need to protect those whom I love . . . a deeply seeded need to know that they are taken care of . . . a deeply seeded need to know that they are not hurting or suffering . . . a deep need to know that I am taking care of my loved ones.  The thing that frustrates me over and over again is the fact that there are no guarantees that I can protect even one hair on their heads . . . or that I can provide for them in their times of need.  That reality . . . that fact . . . breaks my heart.  It breaks my heart over and over again because I can see four orphan fawns, standing off to the side, waiting . . . waiting for Mom to get up and everything to be okay.  It just does not happen that way.

No, a cop comes by and puts a bullet through the brain and the orphans are left to fend for themselves.  Such is life.

In my mind the situation for the orphan fawns goes in both directions.  On the one hand I would hope that there is a Prince of the Forest (Bambi’s father) who steps up to take care of and provide for the four; but, I know better.  Theirs will be a hard life as they strive to survive on their own.  Which is the complete opposite end of the spectrum.

It is so easy to slip from deer to one’s own life and family.  Like many others, I pray that I have done what I can to do if such tragedy ever happens in my life . . . that my family will be taken care of in their time of need.  Yet, there are no promises written anywhere . . . there is only hope.

I know that in the days to come that the wife will wander out into the street and look . . . she will look for those four orphans.  I know that in the days and weeks to come—as winter breaks through the fragile shell of autumn—that the wife will sneak out extra bird feed and illicit apples . . . after all, they all need to eat.  I know that those four orphans will not be forgotten . . . that they are not just critters.  I know that both the wife and I will keep ourselves abreast of the continuing story of the four orphans.  I know because both of us, in our own ways, has been touched by the death of this doe.

Why?

Because . . . “Death ends a life, not a relationship.”  (Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie)  Life hurts because of relationships.  We care when it comes to relationships whether it is a little doe getting hit by a car or those who are closest to us . . . we care.  Caring hurts.  Even death has a heart (Markus Zusak, The Book Thief).

Protecting the Ol’ Ticker

It must be the season or something when MSN.com comes out with articles chronicling situations that increase the risk for heart attacks.  Ever since my little escapade with my heart a year ago I have become a little sensitive to issues about the heart.  Even though I was given the “thumbs up” and cleared about my heart being healthy . . . it still makes one a little nervous.  The article, Six Scary Times for Your Heart, did nothing to relieve that anxiety that pops up from time to time.

According to the article there are times when there is an increased risk for heart attacks.  For example, being stuck in traffic . . . between Monday and Friday that is a daily occurrence in my life . . . there is a rise in blood pressure and the risk for heart attack increases by three.  I am amazed that I have kicked the bucket yet after nearly four years of commuting to the big city to work at the university!

Another risk . . . waking up in the morning.  The article states that the risk of heart attack increase 40 percent in the morning (it must be true because it comes from Harvard researchers).  Who would have thought that waking up from a restful night of sleep would increase one’s chances of heart attack.  I thought rest was good for the heart . . . now I am being told that having a good night’s sleep can knock you off because of the body making demands on the body to get started! 

The next situation that causes heart attacks is Monday mornings!  Apparently 20 percent more heart attacks occur on Mondays.  The reason?  Because people are stressed and depressed about returning to work.  Add that to the fact that there is a 40 percent risk upon waking up to the risk associated with Mondays . . . well, maybe we should get rid of Mondays on the calendar.

Pigging out doesn’t help either.  Having a five-course, calories-be-damned meal can have an immediate impact on one’s heart.  Such meals make the heart work harder.  Now I am feeling guilty for that second helping of Hamburger Helper I had last night!

This one surprised me . . . taking a dump . . . the bowel movement.  Bet you weren’t expecting that one!  Apparently straining puts pressure on the chest which slows the return of blood to the heart.  I would have never, ever, thought that my southern posterior was that connected to my heart.

Then, there was the unusually vigorous exercise or physical activity . . . such as shoveling snow.  Basically it comes down to an activity that the individual is not used to which messes up everything.

And last, but probably not the most surprising, was public speaking.  Extreme nervousness raises blood pressure, heart rate, and adrenaline levels, all of which is not good for the heart.  Glad to know that after having been in public speaking for nearly thirty years as a pastor!

Looking over the list it did not look good for me . . . I sleep, thus wake up every morning . . . I have to go to work every Monday morning . . . I pig out more than I should, but darn, food tastes so good and is necessary . . . my bowels move (thank God) . . . I shovel snow in the winter (about the only time it seems to show up around here) . . . and I speak to the public on a weekly basis.  I should have kicked the bucket a long, long time ago! 

After reading the article I decided that I would take their suggestion and attempt to wake up slower by hitting the snooze button more often . . . but I think the wife will kill me for annoying her with my obsessive behavior.  I decided to skip Mondays and report for work on Tuesday . . . but, I imagine that the risk will only shift over to Tuesdays instead of Mondays.  I will attempt not to eat like a pig, except on those days in which we are having pork chop sandwiches . . . I will watch my diet . . . for at least a couple of hours.  I will attempt having kinder and gentler bowel movements . . . eat more fiber, drink more water, and remind myself that I shouldn’t be a pain in the . . . well, you get the picture.  I promised myself to avoid vigorous exercise . . . almost a no-brainer there.  And, I will prerecord my sermons instead of doing them live . . . the congregation might enjoy that as they can fast-forward the tape.  Of course that will cut into their nap time. 

With these changes in my life, I can probably add a couple of years to my life.  Isn’t that the goal?  To live longer?  I don’t know . . . maybe the best thing I can do is to quit reading articles related to the heart.  Yeah, I think that is the way to go!