This Old House...

Monday is my day off. It’s the day I take care of personal stuff like oil changes and laundry. And doctors. Lots of doctors. I’ve been saying for a while that once you turn 60, it’s like driving an old car. There’s always something else that needs fixing. Recently, I’ve started comparing it to an old house. Sometimes I just look around at everything that creaks and leaks and all the lights that used to come on and the furnace that used to keep things so warm, and I swear to god I don’t know what to try to fix first. Today, I met with the electrician, the plumber, a GC who has worked on my house before, and finished up with my interior designer. 

Quite a few projects going this winter. 

The neurologist who checked my wiring this morning was recommended by the guy who says the pipes to my brain are clogged, but not so he wants to fix them at the moment. He’s thinking I may have some bad wiring in the attic. The neurologist asked about my history, had me watch her fingers wave around, and tested my strength. She did a thing where she takes your blood pressure lying down, then sitting, then standing. My pressure dropped dramatically. Which is the thing (orthostatic hypotension) that causes me to faint so much. What we are trying to discover is why that happens. She ordered an MRI. If they take many more pictures of my brain, it’s gonna need its own agent. She also wants me to do something called a “Tilt table test,” which sounds like a blast, if it doesn’t make me seasick. Finally, she told me she is leaving at the end of the year, so I learned to pronounce her fairly intricate Polish name for nothing. And I need a new electrical expert. 

My regular plumber was on another job today, and the new kid kind of lost track of my work order. I grabbed an hour of meditation and napping in the waiting room. When i finally got to see her, she installed this monitor gadget that will track my heartbeat for the next two weeks. She assured me I can do anything except submerge it in water, so the treadmill and I are going to put it through its paces. Can’t wait to see the upload after a few rounds on the heavy bag. I think they are kind of hoping I’ll pass out, so they can see what happens. All I know is they shaved my chest before sticking it on me, and I’ll be really glad when it stops itching. 

Late in the afternoon, I re-hired my favorite general contractor to coordinate the project. Dr Hall has been my primary care doctor since way-back-when, and I know and trust her absolutely. She left the practice where we met, and I’ve been struggling to remember new doctor’s names ever since. I finally got Google to tell me where she moved to, and we had a reunion. Once she was up to speed, she was able to come up with a plan. We’ll get a second opinion on the blocked arteries, and decide together who should do what. We finished our meeting with a big Christmas hug. Good medicine. 

I finished the day with an early evening sit-down with my therapist. We have been working on my interior for some time: what needs to stay, what needs refurbishing, and where is the clutter I don’t really need to hang on to anymore? It’s a real challenge in an old house, but he has a good eye, and a thoughtful manner that is really helping me to make the old place a home. It was a good place at to wrap up the day. A reminder of why I’m working so hard to keep the joint up and running. 

As you can guess, I slept like a baby last night. This morning, as I was meditating, I became aware of how full of contractions our life is. Trivia absorbs us as meaningful action languishes on our “To-do” list. We spend time and energy grieving for all the tasks we don't have time or energy to accomplish. We know what we ought to do, but struggle to say what we really want. And far too often, our response to our own contradictions is to condemn the people who have inconsistencies of their own. 

Inconsistencies do not make us hypocrites; they make us human. And they If we are lucky, they might make us humble.

My own contradictions frustrate and disappoint me. Intelligence and passion have always been my strengths. Now, my brain and my heart seem to be in a race to see who is going to give out first. 

Frustrating? Yes. But also humbling. I am full of conflicting motives and actions. How can I condemn anyone else for their own contradictions? 

And in my roundabout meandering, I wonder if I haven’t stumbled onto something terrible and true about Christmas. What could be more inconsistent than a god who becomes a human? A creator who destroys? A merciful father who abandons his son? Is our inconsistency a reflection of god’s own  nature? 

I wonder. Is god a worried old man, traveling from one doctor to the next, looking for answers to questions he can’t quite put into words? Does god need me as much as I need him?

I think maybe I need to make one more stop this week. There is a manger in an old inn that I need to visit. Seems like a good week to travel from one old house to another. I want to  catch up with an old Friend.