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My heart is broken.

After three months of sheltering mostly at home during COVID_19, it seems my blood pressure – which withstood three years of the Trump Presidency on a beta blocker alone – now also requires a “calcium channel blocker” to prevent me from stroking out (a major risk factor for me as my maternal grandmother and my birth mother both died that way).

Yesterday was nearly an ER trip for me when I had gotten done talking to my cardiologist’s nurse. Fortunately we settled on some anxiety and pain meds for pounding headache and a way to maybe lower my diastolic and systolic numbers.

As you can see, I made it through the night. Hooray for me!

And today brings a new pill into my life to increase the flow of blood into my brain by relaxing blood vessels.

I guess I should have started this out with my head is broken.  But those who know me best could have told you that. (Insert 😉 winky emoji with tongue 👅 hanging out here.)

So I began my morning in serious spiritual contemplation, reading the book “The Enneagram: A Christian Perspective,” by Richard Rohr, OFM, a Franciscan friar from New Mexico, and Andreas Ebert, a German theologian.

(Rohr runs the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, NM; he is of course controversial to conservative bishops and priests because his idea of ecumenism extends beyond the Lutheran and Episcopal churches, and he is rather Jungian in his writing.) (He is also as likely to quote Rainer Maria Rilke as Blessed Julian of Norwich).

Of the nine personality types that comprise The Enneagram, I have read about the first three and what their “root sin” may be. Of course I am convinced I am the type I just read about, until I read about the next type.

I imagine we each have a little of all nine in us, but one is supposed to be our dominent archetype, and by working through the “root sin” of that type through prayer, meditation, and contemplation, we get to the Fruit of the Spirit that helps us rid – or at least control – our personality of that sin.

For example, the “root sin” of a Three is untruthfulness and deceit. Its pitfall is Vanity and the Fruit of the Spirit is Honesty. But you have to put in some very serious self-examination to be reborn from deceit into honesty.

This is a very simplistic explanation, and there is also a modicum of symbology that goes with each type. There are also diagrams based on pythagorean geometry and the spiritual wholeness of certain numbers, but I kind of looked at it, went uh huh, and moved on.

Moving on to the pharmacy was my next task. I garbed myself with visored hat, mask, sunglasses, gloves and hand sanitizer. Yet I still felt very uncomfortable about the older woman not wearing a mask and pressing her face to the plexiglass supposed to protect the pharmacy workers as she screamed at them about the cost of a medication.

I over social distanced from the woman directly in front of me who, though wearing a mask, let out a dry cough as she handed in her prescription, and was uncomfortable that – though he was exceedingly polite – a young man walked within three feet of me sans mask.

I held my gas points card and the two packages of paper towels I had scored far away from the plexiglass as the pharmacy tech zapped their codes into the cash register and entered my prescription cost.

Scurry is an apt word for how I left the building, although I did get a chance to socially distance a “hello” to one of my Church Deacons and his wife somewhere within this experience.

My biggest mistake was turning on the car radio, though. It was still on MSNBC. I heard enough of the Rick Bright testimony before Congress to make my BP start to rise after hearing a Republican say “there is plenty of blame to go around,” but then try to squarely put that blame on Barack Obama’s shoulders.  I quickly turned it off.

So for now it is good-bye Andrea Mitchell, Nicole Wallace and Ari Melber.  Thank you, Governor Andrew Cuomo, (D-NY) for helping me handle the facts of quarantine, social distancing and hand washing so much better than my own Governor, Brian Kemp (R-GA), ever could.

I will not miss Trump and his insane lies, one piled upon the other in a jumble that looks like a tower of unbalanced Jenga blocks.  They should completely fall over and crash when each one is pulled away; yet by some evil magic they don’t.

To my Twitter friends and fellow members of The Resistance and other voter promotion groups to which I belong, I need a break until I see how this new medication works.

Meanwhile, I will be figuring out my Enneagram type, working on contemplative prayer and yoga, and going back to watching as many versions of “Pride and Prejudice” as I can find. (I include the “Bridget Jones” canon  in this category; after all, they have Colin Firth in them, the penultimate Mr. Darcy.)

Hopefully see ya all next week!

gray animal plush toy
Photo by Akshar Dave on



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