I just stopped in to see what condition my condition was in

First of all, I want to express my thanks for the many well wishes I received after I indicated I was ill last week.  This stuff really kicked my ass and I'm anxious to have it behind me. I looked at my stats this week and was shocked to see that I'd written less than 2,000 words. 

At over 900,000 words written so far this year, a week like this means I've been really sick.

It turns out, after multiple doctor appointments this past week, that the problem may not be focused on my lungs. An EKG revealed I was in AFib, an arrhythmia of the heart that was causing it to race up to 150-160 bpm. An echocardiogram showed that I have a leaky heart valve. I'm on some good drugs to thin the blood and slow the heart so I can go in early in October to have a cardioversion, in which they shock my heart back to a normal pace. I'm feeling much better now, but still on the mend and looking forward to getting past this little episode.

I am delaying my travel plans for this fall indefinitely. That was a tough decision as I've been planning for this trip since January. I might feel up to traveling internationally by January, but no promises to you or to myself.  I was hoping to spend November and December in Australia and New Zealand but I'll put those on a list for later. My current plan is to hitch the trailer and head south in mid-October, after the cardioversion procedure. Maybe head to Oklahoma for a while and then south into Texas. Of course, all plans are now written in sand and could be erased by the next big wave or gust of wind.

I hope to be back to full writing productivity by mid-October. Thank you again for the positive energy you have sent my way!

author Nathan Everett

The Ups and Downs

I originally intended to post a fairly political analysis regarding the inappropriateness of saying one is a fiscal conservative and a social moderate. But, It has gotten quite long and I want to do a complete fact check before I post it. Yes, I check to see if what I’m saying is true. I try not to lie, even to myself.

So, instead this somewhat more personal and considerably more up and down piece.

The Ups

This week was the national convention of the American Association for Nude Recreation (AANR). It was a great gathering of close to 300 nudists at Sun Meadow Resort in Worley, Idaho where I live during the summer. Stellar entertainment was included, and being an author not prone to miss a chance, I became a vendor at the convention.

The little white arrow upper left is where I’m camped, though I think this satellite photo was taken when someone else was in “my” spot. That doesn’t look like my truck and trailer.

And the results were as good as any show I’ve done! I ran out of stock on both Wild Woods and The Gutenberg Rubric with only two copies of City Limits left! From that perspective, sitting for seven hours on the patio talking to the variety of people who came by to chat and perhaps make a donation to the author (for which I let them choose a book), was a very good use of my time.

The Downs

I’ve been plagued with some health problems the past month and a half. I’ve lost nearly 15 pounds, which I could stand to lose, but not quite in this way. No. I’ve lost it as a side-benefit of sleepless nights, wheezing, coughing, in panic attacks because I couldn’t breathe, and suffering shortness of breath when engaged in the simplest tasks. I’ve had little or no appetite, often going a day or two without eating at all. I’ve not drunk wine all week. Even my coffee consumption is down to about half a cup a day. Now that’s serious.

It was critical enough that I even decided to go to a doctor on July 26 and the assessment was that I had asthma. I got drugs that made me feel better in the short term. Inhalers for the long term. And ten days after my appointment, I had such a horrifying panic attack because I couldn’t breathe that I froze in my chair and sat there all night waiting to die.

A visit to the urgent care center the next morning resulted in a basic affirmation. Chest x-rays showed little sign of moisture. I was clear and had 94% oxygen content in my blood. I got more steroids and a round of antibiotics. A nebulizer to get the albuterol deeper into my lungs and went home to my trailer at Sun Meadow.

Where I was roundly reprimanded by my friends for not having called 911, not having called one of them, and not having gone to the emergency room. But the reality was that my head was so muzzy, I didn’t think of any of those things. I didn’t think at all.

I had days of relief once again until I found myself in the midst of another attack Thursday night. This time (I thought), I knew what to do and kept puffing albuterol until the symptoms died down and I was able to sleep. And each time I woke up, I puffed again and got back to restless sleep. In the morning, I went back to Urgent Care.

Their alarm was over the fact that I’d used way too much of the inhaler which was simply marked “Use as needed.” Apparently, you aren’t supposed to need it more than once every four hours and taking eight doses in two hours was excessive. More x-rays and blood test. My blood oxygen level was up to 96%. I was given another nebulizer and told to practice my deep breathing to control the panic.

Friday wasn’t a great day. Saturday night was only marginally better. I have a doctor’s appointment slated in Seattle for Tuesday and decided that instead of driving 350 miles across Washington on Monday, I was just going to fly, and do it right damn now. Wow! Was that an expensive decision. There went almost $900 of my round-the-world travel funds for this fall. But it is good to be here with family and friends who are watching out for me and will get me to the doctor on Tuesday. And I slept all night last night for the first time in a long time.

I don’t know what the long-term prognosis is, but if I don’t have some mastery of this situation soon, I will not be heading around the world this fall. It’s too big a risk to be in Australia or Thailand or India and suddenly not be able to breathe. I’ll have to make other plans for this winter.

The Side Effects

Sleep deprivation, according to police, is more dangerous than intoxication when it comes to driving. That was my own assessment when I decided to fly to Seattle instead of drive. But sleep deprivation, like intoxication, significantly affects one’s rational abilities.

For a writer, that is devastating.

I drive a keyboard. Frequently over the past three weeks, I have jerked awake and found a page or pages of the letter ‘l’ typed across my screen. Sometimes rereading what I’d written just prior to that is as bad as drunk texting. Over the past four days, I’ve written only about 1,400 words on my current story. This is from a man who is used to writing over 4,000 words a day.

Only 10,000 words this week? When the rest of the year has shown 25-40,000 a week? And yes, if you are noting where the blue bars have reached, they show over 900,000 words so far this year.

I’m sincerely hoping that I’ll be able to focus on my story a little this week. I need to for my own sanity, not just for the sake of my readers.

So next week, maybe I’ll be ready to tackle the conundrum of being a fiscal conservative and a social moderate. See you then!

Just a game

Despite having written 900,000 words so far this year, I’m supposed to be retired. Life of leisure. All that. My leisure time the past couple of weeks has been sucked up by illness from which I’m now feeling mostly recovered. After a doctor’s visit, urgent care visit, two rounds of steroids, a course of antibiotics, a nebulizer, two inhalers, and over-the-counter expectorant and cough suppressant, I’ve had four good nights’ sleep in a row for the first time in eight months.

Nonetheless, I make time most days to go play cards with compatriots at the lodge here at Sun Meadow. We play “Hand and Foot”, a game that is best described as “Canasta on steroids.” I play for fun. I don’t have the focus or concentration to play some of the games I used to enjoy, like pinochle. I go up to enjoy conversation, a glass of wine, and an object in front of me to keep us occupied. I don’t really care who wins or loses. If I spot a mistake a player has made that would significantly change his or her play, I point it out and give them a chance to remedy it if they want to. Makes to difference if that person is my partner or opponent.

Usually, that’s appreciated, but not always. Especially not by my partner if I’m helping the opponent. A partner this week (we change partners every game) watched me make a mistake in my play and no one volunteer to correct it as we moved to the next player. “See. No one bothers to help you, even when you’ve helped them.”

And that got me thinking.

Is the price of my being courteous to other players having them be courteous to me? Everyone plays their own game. I’m sure most if not all of the players at the table didn’t even notice my misplay. But should I not extend my courtesy to other players because they don’t or didn’t return it?

A friend talked about driving to Seattle not long ago and how rude the drivers were there. He saw a car signaling to change lanes and slowed up to give him room. Nice. Courteous. But when he attempted to change lanes, no one would let him in. “If that’s the way they’re going to drive, then hell if I’m going to let them in,” he said. He made sure the distance to the next bumper from that point on was too narrow for a car to attempt to pull in front of him.

Why? Why would the courtesy of another driver, or lack thereof, affect me being courteous to others?

I think we get in a routine of letting other people’s behavior define the standard for our own behavior rather than let our standard of behavior be a beacon to others. In that way, the behavior of our society sinks to the lowest common denominator.

No. I will continue to be courteous, kind, loving. Even when those behaviors are not returned to me. It costs me nothing and perhaps will make my little corner of the world a better place to be.

Conscious Breathing

Breathing has been important to me for several years now. Well, all my life, I guess. It’s such a simple thing. Air goes into your lungs. Oxygen is extracted into the bloodstream. Blood circulates through your body to feed cells (like the brain). You exhale the waste product air. And it all happens automatically. It is an involuntary response.

Except when it isn’t.

I’m learning to deal with COPD and occasional panic attacks when I think I can’t get enough air. They are lessening, I think. But this post isn’t about that. It’s about meditation.

Back in the 70s and early 80s I participated in several meditation exercises and ultimately developed my own creative visualization meditation that I am trying to get back to. I called it 21 Breaths and it was/is focused on consciously breathing and letting that act release the mind and enter a healing state. It has gotten me through countless crises in my life. The toughest part is remembering to do it and let it work its magic.

And now, I’ve found that consciously controlling twenty-one consecutive breaths is a real challenge that I have yet to succeed in. I’m hoping that entering this meditative state will help me control my COPD, but also that it will return a contemplative state that I have lately been missing.

If you are interested in following the creative visualization of 21 Breaths, I’ve included it below.

I went to Art on the Green in Coeur d'Alene yesterday. Had to stop and rest half an hour as I walked around, but all told, the exercise did me good. I loved watching the couple in this photo create a sand castle. He had a picture of what it would look like and the finished product is remarkably like it.

It got me thinking, though. When you watch a building being built, you see a foundation laid and walls rise to the height intended. Three stories? Ten? A hundred? You see the building grow from the ground up, almost as though it was organic with deep roots and a living body.

The sand castle started from a big mountain of sand and the artists have slowly scraped away the part that wasn't a castle, starting from the top and working down. The castle doesn't grow, it emerges as the surrounding material is eroded away. It's more like the great stone formations of the Utah desert. Monument Valley. Rainbow Bridge.

I think in my life, I see the effects of both processes. I started small and grew larger. But I also started a rough and unpolished lump from which has eroded the things that aren't essentially me.

I'll meditate on that.

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21 Breaths

Inhale as you imagine the scene in the step description. When it is firmly in your mind, exhale slowly.
Breath 1: You come to a park where a juggler is entertaining. The juggler has three red balls and you watch them as each rises into the air and falls back to the juggler’s hand.
Breath 2: Beyond the juggler are two green trees. They grow from a joined root and you place a hand on each tree to feel it’s life and how much it gives to the world in terms of oxygen and beauty.
Breath 3: You step between the trees and discover a rustic stair between their roots leading down. You place your right foot on the first step and determine to take the journey.
4-9: You consciously visualize each step in this rustic stair as you place your foot on it and descend into the darkness. Is it rough? Smooth? Creak? Have a scrap of carpet on it? Each step is different. Don’t forget to switch feet! You started on the right foot. You will end on the right (seven total steps/breaths). Right, left, right, left, right, left, right.
10: You step out and off the bottom step onto a wooden deck. You can see here but there is no apparent source of light.
11: Before you is a door carved with mystical creatures of all description. But it has no apparent doorknob or handle. You place your left hand on the horn of the unicorn and your right on the wing of Pegasus and the door swings open.
12: You step through the entry into a pool room. The water in this pool is magical. You could breathe it. You approach the steps into the pool and grasp the handrail preparing to back into the water.
13-19: Like the steps between the trees, you visualize each step down into the water. Starting on your right foot, you go down seven steps until the water completely covers you. The water fills your mind and body.
20: Turning to float on your back, you see a string dangling. When you pull the string, light floods the pool and your mind. It illuminates the subject you are contemplating. Is it a problem in need of a solution? Poor health? A relationship? Whatever the problem or subject of your meditation, it has now been illuminated.
21: Surrounding you in the pool and in the air above it are tools. They may look like your normal toolbox but they all have unique properties. A wrench might be needed that tightens a loose knee joint. A spoon might measure the appropriate amount of sympathy for a friend. A pump might extract the phlegm from your lungs. Whatever your problem or issue, visualize a tool you can use to fix it or understand it. When you release this breath, let the tool do its work and accept the solution.
Relax in the pool as long as you wish. It is your sacred space and will always welcome you. Go there to heal.