RAJABLOGG.com - Here is a short parody about waking up, a blend of ballet and orchestra in the bedroom. I will call the typical daily event my "Marf Morning Musical". Enjoy!
Drum rolls start as my Coumadin dose is now due and without the beta-blocker my St. Jude aortic valve is clicking louder and louder, faster and faster. The St. Jude drum section wakens me from a fitful sleep of wild, medication induced dreams.
The only way to quiet the drum section is to take my meds. That means getting up. So I stretch and the stringed up sternum section sends a loud thunderous pop, louder than the St. Jude drums, as my unstable sternum pops open once more, as it does every morning. Added to the sternum pop is the prolonged and melodious 'owwwch" coming from my lips as the chest cage breaks apart. It has been two years since the last cut through and still no healing (Thank You connective tissue disorders!).
Of course the pain from the popping sternum sends the St. Jude valve section into wild non-rythmic AFIB or VTACH beating, changing the beat from a slow 4/4 to a rushing drum roll. Now I know I must quickly reach the medication drawer and slip a big blue pill under my tongue.
I roll over to my hands and knees, up from the floor bed pad I've made because my lower back detests the bed mattress and push up to a standing position, taking the first few steps towards the bathroom and the pills.
Ker-pop, ker-pop, ker-pop echos the sound of me walking across sheets of bubble wrap strewn across the floor. Of course there is no bubble wrap laying anywhere in our house. But my knees, ankles and other joints must go through their daily popping, releasing all the body gas built up in the joint sections.
But with the ker-pops and St. Jude valve section in full play, my seemingly beautiful and graceful dance across the floor ends up with a loud crash into the bathroom door as the connective tissue in my ankle gives way and my tall, lanky frame flings furiously forward.
No, that is not blue make up covering my forearms and face, just bruises from the Coumadin regime and the morning smacks from the floor, doors, dresser and walls.
Things begin to slow down with my first cup of dark roast in the French press and a hot shower. Then then pick up again as the day progresses.
Such is the Marf Morning Musical.
I know there are lots of you out there who can relate.
It is good to know I am not alone with my music and dance.
Drum rolls start as my Coumadin dose is now due and without the beta-blocker my St. Jude aortic valve is clicking louder and louder, faster and faster. The St. Jude drum section wakens me from a fitful sleep of wild, medication induced dreams.
 |
| Aorta |
The only way to quiet the drum section is to take my meds. That means getting up. So I stretch and the stringed up sternum section sends a loud thunderous pop, louder than the St. Jude drums, as my unstable sternum pops open once more, as it does every morning. Added to the sternum pop is the prolonged and melodious 'owwwch" coming from my lips as the chest cage breaks apart. It has been two years since the last cut through and still no healing (Thank You connective tissue disorders!).
Of course the pain from the popping sternum sends the St. Jude valve section into wild non-rythmic AFIB or VTACH beating, changing the beat from a slow 4/4 to a rushing drum roll. Now I know I must quickly reach the medication drawer and slip a big blue pill under my tongue.
I roll over to my hands and knees, up from the floor bed pad I've made because my lower back detests the bed mattress and push up to a standing position, taking the first few steps towards the bathroom and the pills.
Ker-pop, ker-pop, ker-pop echos the sound of me walking across sheets of bubble wrap strewn across the floor. Of course there is no bubble wrap laying anywhere in our house. But my knees, ankles and other joints must go through their daily popping, releasing all the body gas built up in the joint sections.
But with the ker-pops and St. Jude valve section in full play, my seemingly beautiful and graceful dance across the floor ends up with a loud crash into the bathroom door as the connective tissue in my ankle gives way and my tall, lanky frame flings furiously forward.
 |
| Syndrome |
No, that is not blue make up covering my forearms and face, just bruises from the Coumadin regime and the morning smacks from the floor, doors, dresser and walls.
Things begin to slow down with my first cup of dark roast in the French press and a hot shower. Then then pick up again as the day progresses.
Such is the Marf Morning Musical.
I know there are lots of you out there who can relate.
It is good to know I am not alone with my music and dance.
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