What song do you want played at your funeral?
If you have followed me at all, you know that this blog is usually begun with a song. I love music. Yes, I think you should be judged by your music collection. Also your book collection.
The question, "What song do you want played at your funeral?" became a little more important this week. On March 20 I began having chest pains. On March 21 I walked into the ER, had an EKG that was normal, but blood work that was not. Troponin levels were through the roof. I was having a heart attack.
At the age of 36 I was diagnosed with Poly-cystic ovarian syndrome. While the ovaries are the manifestation of the disease, the reality is that PCOS is a liver disease. Being of scandinavian heritage, they don't eat a lot of carbohydrates. Those that they do eat, well, evolution worked to make it so that their livers converted the carbohydrates into adipose tissue to get through the long winters. Fast forward to the 21st century - my liver doesn't know what to do with an American diet rich in carbs. I am fat. My hormones are whacked. My body is broken.
I love bread, I will not lie. I spent several days on a beach in California eating sour dough bread and drinking water. I did not want anything else.
Since my 36th birthday, I have been on drugs for diabetes, hypertension and high cholesterol. If what I am reading is true, about 5 years ago plaques began to build up in my arteries. So despite being on drugs to prevent heart disease for the last 10 years, I still had a heart attack.
Borrowed time:
I should have died when the car hit me when I was ten.
I should have died when I was abducted when I was eighteen.
I should have died when I was flipped in my truck by a cherry-picker when I was twenty-seven.
I should have died when I had a heart attack when I was forty-six.
The question, "What song do you want played at your funeral?" became a little more important this week. On March 20 I began having chest pains. On March 21 I walked into the ER, had an EKG that was normal, but blood work that was not. Troponin levels were through the roof. I was having a heart attack.
At the age of 36 I was diagnosed with Poly-cystic ovarian syndrome. While the ovaries are the manifestation of the disease, the reality is that PCOS is a liver disease. Being of scandinavian heritage, they don't eat a lot of carbohydrates. Those that they do eat, well, evolution worked to make it so that their livers converted the carbohydrates into adipose tissue to get through the long winters. Fast forward to the 21st century - my liver doesn't know what to do with an American diet rich in carbs. I am fat. My hormones are whacked. My body is broken.
I love bread, I will not lie. I spent several days on a beach in California eating sour dough bread and drinking water. I did not want anything else.
Since my 36th birthday, I have been on drugs for diabetes, hypertension and high cholesterol. If what I am reading is true, about 5 years ago plaques began to build up in my arteries. So despite being on drugs to prevent heart disease for the last 10 years, I still had a heart attack.
Borrowed time:
I should have died when the car hit me when I was ten.
I should have died when I was abducted when I was eighteen.
I should have died when I was flipped in my truck by a cherry-picker when I was twenty-seven.
I should have died when I had a heart attack when I was forty-six.
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