Saturday, October 11, 2014

Some Wanking Before Writing

The ugly topic of depression rears its ugly head once more. I want to talk about depression for heart patients.

First of all, it is quite common and a lot of my medical friends try to cheer me up because it is very easy to fall into a state of despair and self-pity once you get a serious illness. Also, some people might find it great to embody the identity of the disease. To become Lord Myocardial Infarction, Esq. It's all about ego. And attention.

However, I don't believe people can be cheered up with fluff or kind words. I believe the only thing that can be useful to get people out of the rut is the truth.

Two days ago, after I saw the cardiologist, I was on the brink. It was a shock to find out that my heart is worse than I thought and the fact that I have to take Warfarin to prevent strokes or embolism threw my carefully constructed dietary system into disarray.

Mentally, I was a mess. I didn't know what I had, why Warfarin was necessary, how did my heart get damaged so much when I went to the hospital quickly, etc, etc.

The past few days, I collected lots of info and harassed all doctor friends within talking distance. In an effort to make sense of it all.

I have found my peace with God a few years ago. I am okay with anything God throws at me. I am  not resisting the MI, the angiogram, the angioplasty, the stent, the slow recovery process, the meds, the  Warfarin. No none of those are in contention. I just want to make sure that I have done all that is humanly possible and know all that is possible for a human to know about my condition.

I am not a lazy ass motherfucker who treats God as my bitch, to leave it all up to God. Cause that's bullshit - regardless whether you believe in a higher power or not. But until the minute I die, I will not stop to do all I can. And all I can is a lot of stuff. Actually, all any of us can do, is a lot of stuff. Don't give me any excuses.

So anyway, I was in a state, but I kept on going. And one of my friends came through. After asking about these alternatives to Warfarin (there are three, new drugs in use since last year or so), I found out the name of my condition, common treatments and later on, I will find the survival rate.

Finding a name means I now have a thing to refer to. It would speed up my reading of the medical journals and other stuff. I felt relieved. I am not scared of death at all. Everybody dies and heart disease is preferable to cancer. I pushed myself these past two weeks and I think I will recover just fine, with all capabilities intact. I just won't be running a marathon or skydiving or bungee jumping anytime soon. Oh, and it seems I'll never ride a roller coaster.

I have a name for my condition. I know what it is. I know that humanity has encountered it before. That there exists a protocol to deal with it. Somewhere, there is a mortality rate, but that can wait.

Right now, I feel so good and free, I'm going to start writing a brand new book tomorrow. I mean, seriously, I'm writing a book.

See, to me, I don't get out of depression with anything other than the truth.