I checked off another thing on my heart failure to do list. I went to a support group. The jury is still out about it. Will I go back? Did it help? Not sure.
Just when I was about to doze off as yet another woman shared her near death experience, Wanda Sykes took the floor. She was equal parts Jesus and equal parts F bomb. She had a valve replacement in 2007 and she recalled every single friggin detail in hysterical fashion. When she finished her long tale of woe, taking up way more than her share of allotted time, another woman said, “So, you’re fine now.” Translation: you had a one off heart problem that got fixed with a surgery and it was seven years ago so what are you doing here and why are you monopolizing the conversation.
There were women there who only recently cheated death and their fear was up close and personal. There were women like me who had lived with heart conditions for years and had experienced a set back. The anger and disappointment close to the surface. And then there was the ghost of Christmas future. A woman whose disease had had its way with her. She was with her care giver. She had two ventricle pump devices. She was on the transplant list.
We make up a crappy group. Bound together by the black bean. Should I seek comraderie is such a group as this or should I be disengaged among the healthy and vital? I don’t know. I’m still mulling it over.
We make up a crappy group. Bound together by the black bean. Should I seek comraderie is such a group as this or should I be disengaged among the healthy and vital? I don’t know. I’m still mulling it over.
Just Passing Through 