How ridiculous of me to believe

 I guess what I'm trying to say is this: if you have a heart, then you are at risk. It's been rather disconcerting, to say the least. Toren is a great guy. I am appreciating this fantastic organ and its ability to beat over a billion times in an average lifetime without (much) assistance. In the last few days, I have felt every beat of my heart. Or the don't-pay-any-attention-to-your-health disease. Dr. We hope that by simply being aware of our emotions, our habits and their effect on our bodies that we're somehow immune. I'm still waiting for the results. We understand what it means and how it feels to be brokenhearted. But it's also given me an opportunity to think about my heart in a whole new way. Our hearts seem more poetic, more China Inversion Tables Factory romantic, more likely to be swept away by the sheer force of nature that is love. Our emotions are actually connected to our brains. I wish I could say that I had planned it that way. But really, it just isn't as satisfying to think of love as being a head thing. I've been healthy enough to actually think that I was the one in charge. Whether we're listening to our heart, opening our heart, connecting to our heart, trusting our heart, or simply living to our heart's content, we regard it as the seat of the soul and the source of tremendous compassion and tenderness.

 You'd be hard pressed to find a woman with a lower degree of risk for any kind of heart disease. I've allowed it to go about its work, and only in rare circumstances when it decided to pound--middle school crush walking past me, parachute not opening fully while skydiving, snatching children out of harm's way--did I ever really pay attention to it. I've never smoked, I drink a small glass of wine most evenings, I have low cholesterol, and I've been meditating for over twenty years. Empedocles, a philosopher and scientist who lived in Sicily in the 400s BC, was the first to state in any sort of medical way that the heart was the origin of human emotions. Poor heart. I've been greatly humbled. I am guilty of ignoring my body on the most important level--recognizing its power over me. The truth is that I was experiencing chest pain, a terrible squeezing sensation in my left shoulder and left arm, and an alarming tingling running up my neck. I'm hoping for some seriously good news for Valentine's Day this year. Women are supposed to have a pretty good handle on all this, and that's why I believe that we haven't really considered women as being susceptible to heart disease. It's terribly important to do all the right things, but even then, you've still got this ticker that needs tending. It's been running the show since before I was born. Or the fat person's disease. So unappreciated. Not anymore. My doctor is my stepfather's cardiologist. I've been certified as a personal fitness trainer, and I know a lot about how to change your shape or size or strength through exercise.

 How ridiculous of me to believe that my body will do exactly what I want it to. I guess we're supposed to believe, based on current research, that this is completely inaccurate. I'd always sort of figured that I was in control of my body. We use a lot of language that calls attention to this link between our hearts and all that is good, true, beautiful, and just. We feel an ache in our hearts in quite a literal way. It's that simple.Last Friday was National Wear Red Day, an intentional opportunity to wear a red dress as a symbol of awareness of the fact that heart disease is the number one killer of women in America. A headache is nothing like a heartache. My heart may be open, it may be full of love, but that doesn't mean it's perfect. I didn't wear a red dress, but I did get my very first electrocardiogram. Still, I never quite imagined I would need to visit him myself. 

The next few days brought a series of tests involving all kinds of electrodes, ultrasounds, and my personal favorite, running on the treadmill. I'll be waiting, and wearing red. Becoming hyperaware of my heart's magnificence has resulted in an indescribable sense of awe. I'm not sure what I'm going to learn about my heart when all is said and done, but I've already learned an extremely valuable lesson. We're great at picking up on the importance of being aware of breast cancer, but when it comes to the heart, we want to believe that we are somehow protected from what we have come to think of as the stressed-out man's disease. . Like most healthy people, I've taken it for granted. Yet, here I am, hanging out in the cardiologist's office with a bunch of 75-year-olds. In my continuing effort to connect body, mind and spirit, I've forgotten that the three don't always share equal billing. I'm a 43-year-old woman, fit and active, with low blood pressure, a stupendously healthy diet, and zero history of cardiac problems in my family. Anyone suffering from any kind of illness, injury or decreased ability already knows this. I note the blood coursing through my arteries with every pulse. I know he's good because he has done about a dozen surgeries and procedures to keep my stepfather alive and kicking over the last 20 years. I headed into Urgent Care. You need to know your risks, and you know to know how to reduce them