I felt panicked last week as I lay in bed while waiting for sleep, drinking oxygen, wondering if my gums felt swollen, thinking of the added fatigue I'd been having, feeling the tingling in my hands and feet wondering if it was nerve damage or pooling of blood from a heart condition, wondering if my pulse was faster than usual, mulling over other symptoms I'd been monitoring... Oh God no. Not this side effect. No. I devised a plan how to handle it if it was heart disease.
One of the elements in my self-diagnosis of probably anxiety and not heart disease was my cycling. How is it possible if I have a deleterious heart condition, to be able to ride my bike like I do, twenty miles or more at a time? And get relief while I ride? Currently it's at about mile five when I feel the flip of the relief-switch.
The switch-flip now includes relief from the oxygen-gulping shortness of breath. Other symptoms are still relieved too. Pain. Fatigue. Weakness. Cognitive dysfunction. Loneliness. Depression. Pointlessness. Disconnectedness. All that and more - relieved by my bike-rides through the woods. With the trees. Oh my beloved trees! How often I feel them cradle me and welcome me, "Hey Carol! It's so good to see you again!"
I began my ride Tuesday with high anxiety. Residual effects from some vicious verbal assaults (containing vile language and false accusations toward me and a loved one) continued to linger - a complex scenario that I was pulled into in February. It's been a difficult, draining seven months. I received the verbal pummeling via texts, late night on August 19th, in Boone, as I was driving back home after visiting one of my sacred places - Roan Mountain (the same sacred ground I visited when an ex-mental health therapist falsely accused me privately in August 2010, and publicly in August 2011 when he tried to smear my character). The August, 2019, evening on Roan had ended in the night hours, stars shining clearly, with a significant, hour-long conversation with Wiley Oakley who claimed to be the grandson of the Wiley Oakley, which I have little reason to doubt.
Brokenness. Shame. My brain in a vice grip. That's part of what I felt when I started my ride Tuesday.
I rode through the woods on a rail-trail alongside the New River in the Blue Ridge Mountains, a 24.6-mile route I've ridden now at least ten times. Along my ride I stopped to remove some obstacles from the trail - five tree branches, one loose rock about the size of a couple bricks, and two broken pieces of glass. This must be my job today. Instead of finding a debit card, or a wallet, or a cell phone. Things I have found on my rides this summer, items which I put in my hip pack until I could find their rightful owners, except for the debit card which I mailed to the address printed on the card.
As I rode along I saw a buckeye on the trail. Aren't buckeyes good luck? But buckeyes don't grow here, do they? Maybe it's a chestnut. Either way, I'll pretend it's a lucky buckeye. I've become a bit superstitious in the last few years. I stopped to pick it up. It was cracked on one side. My heart sank a little. This is me. Cracked. Broken. I stuck the cracked buckeye in my hip pack and continued my pedaling on the trail.
A few miles later I saw another buckeye, and another and another and another and another! Five buckeyes and none were cracked! They were perfectly formed, beautiful, though each had its own distinct features. This is my family! My husband John. And our son Josh and our daughter Sarah and Sarah's dog Yerba. And me!
I thanked the trees and put the buckeyes in my hip pack.
***
I later looked up lucky buckeye: Why is a buckeye seed in your pocket good luck?
And I learned that what I found are indeed buckeyes (and not chestnuts) from the yellow buckeye tree. I recognize the exterior fruit shown in the picture on the link, some of which I saw laying on the trail and I wondered at the time if they were pears, but didn't stop to investigate.
Along my ride Tuesday I had 12 deer sightings; 3 of the deer were probably repeat sightings. Each deer paused to look at me. Then, as deer do, each one took off running, its white tail bright as it gracefully bounded along the trail and then up through the woods or down the bank, stopping to look back once or twice or thrice. And I saw two groundhogs, one on a long bridge. From a distance as I rode onto the bridge I wondered, What is that? A giant squirrel? A cat? Then saw it was a groundhog. Made me smile big; I have a fondness for groundhogs. The little feller ran and would stop, rest a moment, look back, and run again as I very slowly pedaled along staying behind it. We both finally made it to the other side of the bridge. The second groundhog ran across the trail in front of me. He was fast. I often see groundhogs on the Mt. Airy greenway, but not as often on the New River rail-trail.
The doctor Wednesday confirmed that my heart is good, and that if I had a heart condition, I'd feel worse for riding my bike. Anxiety appears to be the culprit. Iron deficient anemia (one of my conditions) can also cause windedness, but my iron levels are good. And this shortness of breath is different from the windedness I've experienced with my anemia. There's more to the story, part of that having to do with my gums. Suffice it to say, I'm again awed at how the psyche can affect our physical condition.
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| Sun setting behind Roan High Knob. 8/19/19. |
