Last posts on heart

Between Heart And Mind

2011-10-06T17:04:00+02:00

Isn't it funny

how life has a way

of smoothing anything

through time

one way or another

if you'll only let it

How it lessens pain

and brings back

your true self

and the willingness

to risk all again

even if you just know

that somewhere

in between the wooing

and the cold indifference

your dreams will lose

the battle against reality

every time

Nevertheless

there you are

tempted to cross burnt bridges

as if nothing ever happened

and wondering why the heart

with such unflagging resolve

never seems to second-guess

Made in Vélizy Villacoublay : Carmat, the artificial human heart

2011-09-28T06:46:00+02:00

Carmat

Woman in Love with Priest

2010-10-29T20:58:36+02:00

If a person is in love he or she does not care for explanations, for laws that somebody made up centuries upon centuries ago. The heart does not understand all/any of that. It only knows that it loves someone and wants to be with that person. Everything else is not important. Why is it wrong to feel what I feel for this priest? He is also a man. Why would there be a scandal if we married? Why does he have to leave the priesthood? I, as a minister’s wife, would be an asset. I would not be a burden, a rope around his neck. I thought about all this when I loved my priest/man years ago. I still want an explanation, will not get one. Eugenia Renskoff

Cold Heart

2010-04-21T10:55:00+02:00

It could well be

that my heart is dead

for it lies cold

and buried deep

underneath the ruins

that you’ve left

and new love

may not arrive in time

for it to not give up

all hope needed

to survive

Photograph: Mommamia

For more information visit:

www.flickr.com/photos/mommamia

Perplexing Love

2010-03-09T07:54:56+01:00

Why is it that I seek after something that doesn't want to be found, and there is something that is desperately seeking to be found and I look past it.

I know so little about myself. I feel like I should know more as I am with myself all the time, but I just don't know what's the matter with me. I am perplexed as to what I am doing in my life right now. I am 28 years old and desire to be married and having kids and all that...and yet another part of me desires to be free as a bird going here and there all over the world not depending on anyone, or having anyone depend directly on me.

But then again I think about it and I don't want to be alone when I am older and yet each day passes...I don't want to not have the beautiful experiance of having a baby grow inside me...being part of a miracle with God.

A dear dear friend of mine whom I have watched grow up has his very first girlfriend...they're in Jr. High and watching them makes me remember when I was in Jr. High and that first feeling of love and how intoxicating it is...that overwhelming compulsion upon seeing the other person that you want to fly and throw up and the same time.

I sincerely hope that this couple won't be like most normal Jr. High couples and break up within a couple weeks or months...I think that it would be awesome if they could look past all the people telling them that it won't last and just hold on for the ride. And if it's the Lord's will that they will stay together and be happy.

Memories of broken hearts aren't very fond...either if you've broken them or your's has been broken. I pray that God will prepare my heart for whomever HE wants and that I will just let Him do it and stop putting so many barriers and personal failures in my way.

If you are reading this and perhaps single as well...remember that God made your heart and He know's exactally who fits in it perfectly.

Sites. Health.

2008-05-10T20:15:00+02:00

Just a few Websites to try now and then. NOT INSTEAD of your GP of course!www.nhsdirect.nhs.ukhttp://www.besttreatments.org/ Common health probs.http://www.netdoctor.co.uk/ General Health.http://www.food.gov.uk/ Food.www.cancerhelp.org.ukhttp://www.quackwatch.org/ Worth a peek.http://www.mht.org.uk/ Mental Health.http://www.bhf.org.uk/ Heart Issues.http://www.strokeassociation.org.uk/ CVA, Stroke.

Desert Of My Heart

2008-04-18T20:45:00+02:00

In the desert of my heart

past loves are left to wither

Their bones scattered

bleached and dry

half covered in sand

that burns without flames

No survivors

Prompted by Writers Island

for more takes on the prompt go to:

http://writersisland.wordpress.com/2008/04/17/prompt-link-triumph/#comments

Heart Behind Barbwire

2008-04-06T17:50:00+02:00

My heart's caught

in the barbwire fences

surrounding yours

and every time it tries to free itself

it gets stuck worse

You left it struggling there

bleeding from its puncture wounds

to undergo a slow and painful death

unmerciful you move on

not one glance back

Matters of the Heart

2007-11-14T08:11:06+01:00

I'm as tired as only a day in the hospital can make me, the weariness that's not so much the will to sleep, as the will to not think of feel anymore.

Hospital, like airports, or school, looks the same, no matter where in the world you are. I'm thinking about that when I'm walking toward the elevator, about how maybe if I just open a door or turn into a room, I'll find some secret passage that connect me to a different hospital, in Israel maybe. Then I think that maybe that already happened and I just didn't feel it because all the hospitals looks the same. They have that same feel of pleasant boredom, of cream color wall and those awful reproduction of paintings and prints with flower in them and the same light. And they have the same time zone, all of them, in which minutes feels like hours and half hours feels like days, and going out, after spending just a few hours in there, I feel like I grew old by at least a 100 years.

His mom had some heart thing, she's fine, they had dinner with us on Sunday, and then dessert and then they went home and in the hours after dinner she felt a pressure in her chest and in the morning, she went to the Doctor who send her to a Cardiologist who send her to the hospital where she had an Angiogram and and Angioplasty.

I went through the same thing with my mother, about a year and a half ago, just before moving to New York, being in the hospital, I remembered everything, what comes before what, and what will the DR. say and when not too move and everything. I was looking through the window in the waiting room, expecting to see the mountains of Jerusalem like they look from Haddasa hospital, and not Manhattan. I remembered different small things from when my mother was in the hospital, then from when my sister and my grandmother, it feels as if every hospital visit I do, it harder to carry because it carries in it all the other hospital memories folded in it, in hospital time, like layers of films laying one on top of the other.

The Dr. is talking about changing life habits and sports and eating differently and medication and I've heard all this before, and it makes me scared about how I'm eating and how I'm not doing any sports. And it also makes me think that there's nothing wrong with her, really, that she's having the symptoms of age, that at some point, everyone i know would be facing the same visit to the hospital with some heart problem. I'm thinking about my mother and how I felt like I was breaking her heart by leaving. I'm thinking that I'll be old one day and die. I'm making impossible deals in my mind, agreeing to live only till the age of 60 if all this will be spared of me. If only not to have to deal with getting old. I rather die, then deal with the idea of my own mortality.

Later at home, I'm cutting papers for prints and stop in the middle, I surf the net, I check facebook for no good reason, I finish a painting I started the other day, not because I want to, but because I can't bare to start something new, and I want this day to end with at least one thing finished. I draw flowers and paint them yellow until all the page is filled and the painting is done.

I think about this blog and how, a while ago, I would come back from a day like this and just want to write about it and how now, I just want to turn on an audio book. I don't want to listen or express my thoughts and feeling. I'm trying to figure out why and come to a vague conclusion that it has to do with space. I miss myself, the way that I was before, the way that I was when I was writing more. I miss the fearlessness of not being afraid to loss everything because I feel I have nothing. I miss drinking instead of eating, I miss being thinner.

But I don't, not really, I'm just scared of getting old I guess.

Mom

2006-07-19T16:04:53+02:00

I had a dream the night before her angiogram. In the dream I was not anxious, me and my friends were hanging out, we were going to eat dinner and a girl I didn't know was there, she and another friend of mine who is single for a really long time was eyeing one another. Everything felt great. Then I walked by a window of a store, it had TV sets in it, my uncle was sitting in his wheelchair and talking about the war he hit in, I'm standing to look at it, thinking he's on TV, but then realizing he's really behind that glass, that it's not a store window but a glass door in the hospital.His wife, my aunt, come over, she's telling me my mother's OK and about to go have her procedure, my mom join us, we are standing on the ward's counter, everything is empty quite and white as we are waiting for a nurse or someone to approach us, my mother's sitting in a wheelchair, she say that the hospital wanted to let her go home till her surgery, but that my uncle pulled some strings and told them that she wasn't feeling well enough, that her legs were aching and so they let her stay and that's why she's in a wheelchair, I start pushing her toward the operation room, then, I'm distracted by something or take a wrong turn or something and the wheelchair tips over and my mother falls to the floor. She's covered in a dark green hospital blanket and I can't see her at all, she looks really small under the blanket, my aunt looks alert and shocked, I'm starting to yell "help! Help" and run down the corridor toward where the nurses are, they are engaged in conversation and me, half hysteric, trying to explain to them what happened, eventually one of them, a heavy woman with short brown hair, is following me, not as fast or urgent as I need her to be, from afar, I see my aunt crushing her fists on my mom's chest's supposed to be under the blanket, she's giving her a heart massage trying to bring her back, she's screaming my mother's name, loud trying to wake her, her voice break into crying, then I see my mother's hand roll from under the blanket, and i know, with certainty, that she's dead. That she's gone for good.I'm thinking "this is too horrible and too real to be a dream" and then I wake up, but I'm a child, I'm not me, I'm a little girl, her hair's in two pigtails and bangs, I'm covered in a red blanket and holding tight to a small, knitted teddy bear and my eyes are shut in fear and tears, I feel a heavy bracers on my teeth, in my mouth.I wake up again and I'm me, I'm sitting in my own messy room and start talking to him on the web cam, wanting to tell him about the scary dream I just had, I'm starting to talk to him but something is bothering me, making it hard for me to speak and I realize I still have the bracers in my mouth, but that it if hanging loose, it's attached to my right back teeth alone and all the rest of it is just hanging, I reach into my mouth and start playing with bits and pieces of wire in my mouth, it doesn't detach, eventually, I just pull it out with force, I go to the bathroom and wash my mouth, watching the sink get full of bits and pieces of metal, old needles, wires, feelings, rusted and old and shiny.I wake up again and this time I know I'm truly awake cause I'm anxious.It doesn't leave me anymore, not ever since it's started a week and a half ago, I'm taking bendodiazepines, the pills I was always afraid and really hopeful toward, that pill that's supposed to just take a panic attack and dissolve it in 20 minutes, they dulls it just a little bit but doesn't really help. I found myself going to the hospital last Thursday just to get the same pills from the hospital's Psychiatrist just to get the same pills I was already taking and a recommendation to go back to SSRIs, which I took for one day and then gave up on, remembering that when I took those pills a few years ago, they made the depression slowly go away but didn't help for anxiety at all. All this fear, which I know isn't really a fear, there's a war going around me, my building being broken into and the thing I fear the most is the sound of a barking dog and the wind in the trees. And now this.On Friday my dad calls, it's a little odd cause we already talked earlier that day, I'm home, I'm always home those days or at work, the anxiety makes it almost impossible to get out of the apartment and do anything but be home and be anxious. He tells me that my mom, who I've also talked to this morning, had a heart incident, they still don't know what is it exactly, she's in the hospital, she's OK but her test aren't good, they are administrating her into the cardiology ward, no I don't need to come now, visiting hours are going to be over soon anyway. I call my sister and we talk, then I talk to my other sister and we agree to go there that evening. We sit in my sister's living room, watching Television. I'm feeling anxious we try to calm one another, my younger sister's depressed again, my middle sister's staring on the TV screen then on the pages in her laps, she's got a big test on Sunday and have to study. We watch a little news then some series then a movie, my younger sister end up going back to her apartment since her boyfriend's coming over. And so a couple of days later the DR. decide to have an angiogram and I dream that dream. Though I didn't tell work that I'm going to go to the hospital the next day, I call them in the morning and let them know I'm going to go up to Jerusalem, I walk all the way to the central bus station, trying to ignore the trees, the way banners and flags flap in the wind, the air is almost still this season but to me, it looks and feels like a storm. I debate between taking the service taxi or the bus like my life dependent on it. Eventually I take the bus then a taxi to the hospital, Jerusalem, and especially the hospital, that's on a top of a mountain in the middle of a forest is always more windy then Tel Aviv and the hospital has so many frightening different noises in it I feel I can burst. But I don't I go up to the ward, my mom is already out of recovery but there's a DR. in the ward so all visitors need to stay out. I sit with my father and my sister in the waiting area and we watch TV. There weren't any missiles since morning, and so the news shows are trying to fill one dead hour after another with kids psychologists and other anxiety specialist talking about how to comfort people who are having hard times in the war.Eventually we go in, my mom's laying in bed, in a hospital's pajamas, she's napping, her hair has a lot of gray in it and suddenly she looks older and small to me, like she shrunk down inside that huge hospital bad. I touch her skin, her hand. She wakes up slowly, she's not feeling good but after the nurse checks on her and adjust something in the bandages she's feeling better. She asks me how I'm doing, she knows that I'm anxious, that I'm not eating, I'm telling her I'm not so good, she makes my dad go down to the mall and get me some rice from one of those Chinese fast food counters. We sit and talk, it's hard to find what to talk to with her, she's trying to make me feel better, not as anxious, she's asking me what I'm afraid about, and telling me that i can always come back if I don't like it over there, it's so hard to explain how I feel. I try to talk about this woman at work, to talk about random stuff that's going to make her feel better, but it's hard, it's all so difficult and tragic. My dad gets back, I eat some rice, my mom eats some of it and the hospital's lunch, she was worried the day before and didn't eat much, my dad goes out again he's taking the car to the auto shop and I stay with my mother. It feels to me like I haven't spend any time with her in ages, just the two of us, I’m thinking about all the anger I have for her and had for her in recent years, I look at her body in the bed, at her face, and it just dissolve for that moment, it evaporate as I see her as a person, sick and scared and loving, worried about me even more then I worry about her. And I want to cry, I want to curl in her arms and have her protect me, nurse me back into health and mental stability, I want her to be big and strong and with the amazing ability to fix everything.I'm afraid she'll die, I'm afraid I'll be anxious in New York and have no where to run away to, not that I ever did, not that there's ever a place to hide from myself, from the notion of my parents getting old and die, from being alone and scared, so scared and helpless.I don't want to feel like this anymore, I want to be healthy and strong and brave, I can't stand that fear in the pits of my belly anymore.