by Carolyn Thomas

When I was at Mayo Clinic last fall, I watched a short film about women and heart disease. A 40-something woman onscreen told the interviewer that ever since her heart attack had happened, she was afraid to go to sleep every night, because now she wasn’t sure that she would ever wake up.
I began to weep when I heard her say this.
For the previous five months since my own heart attack, I’d been somehow compelled to clean the entire apartment every night before bedtime, “just in case”. I emptied trash, recycled all newspapers, swept and scrubbed and tidied. I was unknowingly planning that, if this were the night I was going to have another heart attack, the paramedics and the coroner and (worse) my grown kidlets would find me in a nice clean place. It suddenly struck me on that day at Mayo Clinic that every night, I had been essentially preparing for my own death. Night after night, month after month. And I was utterly exhausted.
The upside: the place had never been so clean. (more…)














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