CABG surgery plus 10 days

Late yesterday afternoon I had a run of irregular heart rhythm due to AF – the first since my hospital discharge. I felt it in my chest. It was nowhere as severe or long as previous runs. And it responded in 10-15 minutes to a Sotalol tablet [1]. I wondered if a walk around the Melbourne Central shopping centre [2] a couple of hours earlier, had been too much. Especially as yesterday was a very emotional day for me. Anyway how wonderful to sleep in my own bed. With Sweetheart Vivienne beside me. And none of those mysterious nocturnal hospital noises. I slept through until 6 a.m. Then sporadically. The rest of today was a quiet day. I did my rehabilitation exercises. And I did my required daily 30 minutes of walking by gently treading the 35-metre corridor outside our Melbourne apartment – in two 15-minute stints, whilst simultaneously shortening my list of unlistened-to podcasts. Late morning darling Meg, laden with fresh produce, arrived to spend a couple of days with Sweetheart Vivienne and me. What joy for her dad. After dinner we watched a DVD movie called Bandidas, and then an episode from the third series of In Treatment. I can’t imagine a more enjoyable rehabilitation programme than this one.

On sheep and maternal separation

Last 18 January I wrote [1] that ‘Sweetheart Vivienne and I are well into the HBO TV series In Treatment [2]. Since then we’ve continued to watch, enjoy and learn from this superb offering. As it’s about a psychotherapist and his patients, a recurring theme’s how when youngsters the patients were psychologically damaged by what their parents did and/or what they should’ve done but didn’t. Mobs of sheep are matriarchal. Rams don’t rear the lambs they’ve fathered. The mothers, i.e. ewes, do it all. And, I must say, ewes are super mums. At least our Border Leicester ewes are. So protective, devoted and bonded. But inevitably we must wean our lambs from their mothers. We did it yesterday. We put our 17 ewe (i.e. girl) lambs in one paddock and our 13 ram (i.e. boy) lambs in another paddock (some pictured) – both far from the paddock their mothers remained in. The mothers seemed unconcerned. They continued their business of eating grass, seemingly unaware their lambs were no longer at their sides. The lambs, in contrast, rushed around their new paddocks, bleating plaintively for their mums. Undoubtedly they’ll quieten in a day or two, then miss neither mums nor milk. Or will they? Maybe they suffer psychological trauma after forced separation from their mothers. Are sheep aware? It’s hard to tell, as they don’t have intelligible communication – at least with us humans. To learn more we may need a series of In Treatment about, written by, and starring sheep. How tantalising.

Review Tuesday: 'The Box'

Today’s ‘Review Tuesday’. Darling Meg wrote some blog posts that began with ‘I’m sorry…but I cannot finish your book [1, 2, 3]. Well I’m sorry, director Richard Kelly and actors and crew of the 2009 film The Box [4, 5], but I couldn’t finish your movie. The film’s premise is intriguing: A box with a button on top is left on a married couple’s doorstep. They learn that if they ignore the button, nothing will happen. Though if they press the button, they’ll receive US$1M, but someone they don’t know will die. Obviously they press the button. And soon after, weird things start to happen. Stupid things. Like blood dripping from people’s noses. Sweetheart Vivienne told me she’d gone with darling Emily to see The Box in a cinema. And they both walked out well before it ended. As I’ve written [6], once I start something I almost always finish it. No matter what. But The Box was over the line. Beyond my tolerance. Plus there was a vastly superior alternative: Courtesy of darling Emily, Sweetheart Vivienne and I are well into the HBO TV series In Treatment [7]. It’s an Americanised version of an Israeli series about a psychotherapist and five of his patients. It’s absorbing, stimulating and entertaining. So instead of The Box nonsense, we watched episodes 16 and 17 of In Treatment. I’m sorry, Mr Kelly, but your film’s worth only one star.

P.S. In Treatment will be the topic of a future ‘Review Tuesday’ post. Stay tuned.

P.P.S. Happy birthday, darling Meg.