June 11: Tattered Nerves, Blessings and Curses, Michael Mlekoday, "Home Remedies"

He [Ives] stood on the front steps of his building on a nice spring day, in checked Bermuda shorts and new tennis shoes, waiting for his wife and daughter, and for Ramirez and his family, so they might all go for a long drive and picnic upstate.  He fell asleep one night with the television on in the background, his tattered nerves soothed by Bing Crosby in the movie Going My Way, and he thought about his son as a priest.  He played bridge aboard a Circle Line boat, during an Advertising Club cruise, as it made its way down the Hudson under the George Washington Bridge, and won twenty dollars in petty bets.  He wept while watching Miracle on 34th Street. . .

Ives is trying to move on.  He takes trips with his family, watches movies on television, goes on boat cruises, and plays cards.  Yet, no matter how hard he tries to create a son-less life, his life keeps bringing his son back to him.  Bing Crosby reminds him of his son.  James Bond reminds him of his son.  The assassination of Robert Kennedy reminds him of his son.  Each blessing becomes a curse.

I had a stress test this morning.  Two hours of scans and treadmills.  I didn't go into cardiac arrest.  The cardiologist didn't come charging into the room, yelling, "Stop the test immediately!"  I showed up, did the test, and left, hungry and sweaty.  The nurse was kind.  The ultrasound tech was funny.  They were blessings this morning.  Now, I wait until I get a phone call from my doctor.

I'm not worried really.  I don't think there's anything wrong with my heart.  The chest pain I've been experiencing has subsided, ever since I started taking medicine for acid reflux.  Plus, my life has pretty much been a stress test recently.  My kitchen ceiling.  My roof.  My car.  My job.  Two funerals this week.

I'm really good with life's curses.  My philosophy has always been to be prepared for the worst.  If anything besides the worst happens, I count that a blessing.  For instance, my car is currently out of commission.  I have an appointment with the mechanic on Monday.  I'm preparing myself for some really bad news.  If the mechanic comes back with a four-hundred-dollar fix, I'll count that as a blessing.  Plus, my sister has loaned me her car for the past two days.  That's a great blessing.

Other blessings that have come my way:  the credit union will give me a loan to fix my roof; the insurance said it will fix my kitchen ceiling (I'm a little skeptical); and the weather has been dry (no water dripping into my kitchen in the last week).

I just watched a movie with my daughter called God Is Not Dead.  In the movie, one of the characters keeps saying, "God is good.  Always."  Curses can become blessings, with God's help.

Saint Marty needs to be reminded of that every once in a while.

Home Remedies

by:  Michael Mlekoday

Baba once cast a demon out of my brother.
She slapped him hard across the face
and left a glass of vodka
on the kitchen table overnight.
By morning, the glass was empty
and the rainclouds hung fat and fanged
over our block.  Whenever it stormed,
she tongued her dentures out of her mouth
and sucked them back in, staring
out the window, and crossed herself,
cursing under her breath in Polish.

She taught us the old curses and the blessings,
brought us to the cemetery to practice both.
I was always better with the curses.
The way they had to be dragged
from the body, the odor
of sea salt stuck to the breath,
how they kicked the heart
like the pop of a burnt-out bulb.

Amen.

June 4: Buried, CP and Roof, Joshua Mehigan, "At Home"

They buried his son on Christmas Eve morning, 1967, out in Long Island, his marker a simple Celtic cross.  The burial was covered by the press, despite efforts to maintain privacy.  A lot of important people came, few whom Ives knew.  Zoom-lensed cameras captured the scene, and in an unfortunate gaffe, they published a picture of Celeste, Robert's former girlfriend, who had fallen apart and kept her distance from the family until the funeral, being held in Ives' arms, and identified her as his daughter.

Ives suffers the very worst loss any parent can imagine.  No mother or father ever wants to bury a child.  It's not the way things are supposed to happen.  Children are supposed to carry on the family name, preserve memories.  Children are not supposed to become memories.

I chose this paragraph because it reminds me that, no matter how bad I think my life is, I really don't have it so bad.  I need that reminder today.

This morning, I went to my doctor.  Working in a cardiology office, I frequently write and type the abbreviation "CP."  It means "chest pain."  Chest pain can be caused by a lot of things.  Congestive heart failure.  Acid reflux.  Heart attack.  Lung cancer.  COPD.  I see them all, every day.  Well, for the past six or seven days. I have been experiencing CP.  Initially, I though it was acid reflux because I have suffered from that in the past.  So, I cut back on my Diet Mountain Dew intake and tried to avoid spicy foods.  It didn't help.

So, I made an appointment to see a medical professional this morning.  Actually, I didn't have much of a choice.  As soon as I described my symptoms to the nurse on the phone, she said, "Ah, you need to come in right away."  Within forty-five minutes, I was sitting in an exam room.

After I spoke with the nurse practitioner, she ordered an EKG.  The EKG turned out fine.  Now I'm going to be scheduled for a stress test.  In the meantime, she gave me a prescription to treat acid reflux.  I'm hoping that does the trick.  I'm not quite reassured.  Yet.

That was the morning.  This afternoon, I found out that I somehow have to have the roof of my house replaced.  A contractor came to my home to give me an estimate on replacing the ceiling in my kitchen.  Said contractor will not touch the ceiling until the roof has been dealt with.  That means somehow getting a loan, which means going further into debt, which means another monthly payment, which means I need to sell one of my organs to try to raise funds.

I have not had a great day.  However, my wife and children are healthy and happy.  I have to keep reminding myself that things could be much worse.

So, the roofer is coming out tomorrow morning to give us an estimate.  The stress test will be sometime early next week.  If the medicine doesn't alleviate the chest pressure, I have to go back to the doctor so more tests can be run.

Saint Marty already hates the summer, and it hasn't even really begun.

At Home

by:  Joshua Mehigan

...very few are able to tell exactly what their houses cost... THOREAU

This is my lawn.  I planted it, I grew it,
and I work hard ensuring it's attractive.
I keep it clear of every type of pest.
I rake it and I mow it.  I see to it
that no stray dogs stray here.  It keeps me active.
God sends the sunshine, and I do the rest.

That is my fence, where I go to lean to eavesdrop.
Outside of my own thoughts, I hear the quiet
of many smaller creatures barely moving.
In the fall, sometimes I can hear the leaves drop.
My land is mine.  I have worked hard to buy it.
It's the one thing I can always be improving.

In it, I find it's easier to find
the natural boundary of my heart and mind.

I'm not convinced...yet...