Visit to the ER -- but oddly uplifting

On Saturday I was at dinner with husband & friends when a strange, strong feeling hit me in the upper chest. It wasn't pain or even shortness of breath but more like palpitations. We decided to go to the ER. Long story shorter -- because of my heart history (angioplasty resulting in 4 stents in 2 arteries, 2010) they kept me overnight for observation. It was scary and uncomfortable, of course, but by early afternoon Sunday they'd released me after all the tests were negative.
And for whatever reason I feel really great today.
One thing I learned was that compared to the others on the cardiac floor -- not just this weekend but overall what the nurses see -- I was the youngest and by far healthiest person. My night nurse, who checked me in including weighing me, said that my weight was "perfect." Sunday morning I was so bored that I walked the halls in my hospital gown and a pair of sweatpants, and I saw the misery and unhappiness people and their families were going through.
It made me feel fortunate, and also because we have excellent health insurance coverage, so that this episode won't cost me a dime.
Also I had nine hours of catch-up sleep last night, which I'm sure added to my feelings of vigor and a very upbeat mood today.
You'd think that a visit to the ER and being admitted to the hospital would be overall a bummer, but it didn't really turn out that way.

Where I spent Saturday night

And another thing

Oh, there are so many things.......like that when someone dear dies, a bit of me dies too. When mom went, there were many times when I thought, "Just take me now, too." How inconceivable it is that she will never be back with me.
Near the end of her life, just a week before the stroke that silenced her forever, she said "I'll always be with you." I have tried so, so hard to truly feel that, to have it be more than words. And I don't come very close, ever.
The best I can do is be grateful to have had such a wonderful mother for 62 years of my life. It's not too hard to be present to that blessing.

The Worst Thing....So Far

My mother died in March 2012, a blow from which I will never recover. She lived a long, sweet life, outlived two husbands, was the best mom I could have imagined, developed dementia and urinanry incontinence in her 80s ("don't get old," she repeatedly told me), moved from a lonely big house in western North Carolina and spent her final 4 years near me. She died peacefully of a stroke at 91.
I miss her so profoundly every day.

After her stroke --her precious smile!

Some people believe that we will be reunited with our dead loved ones in an afterlife, and I sincerely wish I had that faith. But I don't think it's part of reality. The reality is she is gone and I will never see her again, a fact I find so painfully hard to accept.
I have a dear husband who loves me and tells me so very day. We have no unmet material needs. I am blessed with an occupation that keeps me busy and fulfilled, a dear stepdaughter, two fine though far-away (in NC and FL) brothers  and their families, and sufficient numbers of good friends.

Our last Christmas together

Ah but mom was the love of my life. I had her for 62 years. I will miss her for all the rest of my days.
Sweet Wilma Mae Brown b. 2/12/21 married my dad Paul Mitchell 12/7/46 who died 5/27/77. Her second husband was Marvin Mason married in 1988. My mommy passed from the Earth on 2/21/12.
She was beautiful, compassionate, caring, loved and loving.

When she was a young beauty

Welcome to my lament for the fading of the light.
I turned 60-freaking-four this fall -- with McCartney's jaunty little tune playing repeatedly in my head for weeks on end -- and my dear heart mother died a year and a half ago. I had heart surgery (4 stents later, thank you very much) in 2010 and a painful gum graft two weeks ago.
My boobs have morphed from a manageable C-cup through at least my 40s to a DDD top-heavy monstrosity that makes sweaters highly problematic items of clothing.
And the wrinkles, OMG. Fair skin, probably too much sun in my youth, inherited a million fine lines along with the heart disease from my dad's side.

All this despite the usual, and some more than usual, efforts to hold off the ravages of time. I've exercised virtually every day since my late 20s and know all about healthy eating -- in fact, my identity thanks to my 4-year-old blog, a magazine column and contacts in the local dining/cooking scene is "the healthy foodie."
I'm not fat -- thanks to all of the exercise and vigilant eating -- and I guess most would say that I am fit "for your age."
But there's the rub!
I don't know whether anyone will read this, but I welcome comments and discussion about aging -- whether you want to dispute my "negative" tone or pile it on because you feel it, too.

Let 'er rip...........