Change: Gurgle and Whoosh

It's been a bit since I just chatted with myself here. Change... hmm usually metal and heavier than paper.


Change seems however to be a theme as of late in my internal world and I need to find a way to put my thoughts on paper, words, or some medium... haha person who talks to underworld, but some consider this a size... anyways... I enjoy language and how there are meanings in the English language for so many different words and context has a tendency to be key. half of my conversations in my office have a tendency to be clarifications or descriptors of what who where and how people are attempting to convey their own meaning and understandings or be heard.


So, this is a white space that I am choosing to imprint with blither... or is it more to me and can help me balance and regulate. I prefer or hope to think the latter is valid and good.


Anyways... I am beginning to embrace the thought that Change is a constant in my world that I and my fellow journeymen and women are attempting to navigate for sure. It seems to be something that increases our states of being or decreases depending on the perceptions that one finds in the inner thought process... ok... what I mean is...


...if someone tells you that the pain in your leg is serious and then gives you a look like you could possibly have harsh consequences from continuing to ignore here said pain, then perhaps one or me needs to pay attention to the warning in their tone and voice and the slowed and cautious words they are using to describe their concerns or beliefs because they want to convey facts and not hysteria and emotional screaming leading to us both feeling dysregulated...
The "Hmmm" sound coming from the techs vocal chords, immediately alerted and increased my alarm bells in my head as I started to hear the blood in my ears palpitate. A joke about how the gloves don't allow him to text as easily was made and the white coated, fresh faced authority joined him to also stare intently at the screen.
...but tones between the tech and repeated positioning of the Doppler wand into the pain point as close as I ever want a man to be pointing anything into or toward a certain area on my body and the discernment and repeated "mmmhmm it's one centimeter, Doctor, from the femoral" are not something that I need to slough off like peeling skin from a serious burn. The Doc's eyes were what intrigued me. A slight, "whoa this is something, and what do I do now and how am I going to think about this one and can I cover my fear so that the 300 hundred pound patient on the table is not going to have a panic attack on me... or can I get back to my office and breathe in my paper sack so I don't faint in front of the patient" still echoes through my mind as though it will be there for an eternity... thanks Russell.


It is something that I have been turning over and over in my head as of late when I recall the above discovery of a potential life taker and death maker  inside of me. I review the memory of the noises in the room that were present on the day of discovery...the beep, gurgle and whooshing of the blood sounds in my veins flowing from the speaker in the darkened room with the technician firmly and intently gazing at the screen ...suddenly did not continue or match any of the previous indications that had been present when he had placed his magic wand on various other parts of my legs and veins. The ominous silence in the room was deafening. The pain in my leg also told me that it was real and that I needed to pay attention to it.


Now I realize that I love the noises from the speaker and it is good if there is noise from the speaker in the darkened room. I long to hear gurgle and whoosh, but that was not the case on this day. I have had conversations with other people now who have told me their own battle to remain alive and vibrant. Four people I know have now conveyed their own circulatory history to me and welcomed me to a club that I am unsure of or concerned about identifying with. I am still in the space between the walls trying to avoid, dodge, or not step on the wrong place and don't know if I truly want to joyously embrace their group or if I could just run in the opposite direction and not have the truth catch me. It would be great if that could be real, but real is different than that. I guess it's great that there are 4 who are still breathing, walking and talking card carrying members of the human race. Some reported deeper and harsher memories or closer calls than I have known, but that is not necessarily a balm to my psyche. Now my mind races at times to the potential for... yada yada yadaa. Others indicate that however that they are survivors and that they have moved on.


I am in the midst of looking for the door to try to find a way to another place where it does not seem to mock or nightmare me as much. Worry can consume, I have found. Freezing and preventing joy from entering. Ugh.


The white coat sent me to another room after we removed all the gel from my skin and came back later with a plan. sitting in the room was really tough. I picked up the book I had brought for the potential downtime I thought I might have, but the words on the page did not seem to grip my attention...