| Biographical Non-Fiction posted August 22, 2020 | Chapters: |
...55 56 -57- 58... 
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There is always something new in the works.
A chapter in the book Remembering Yesterday
Medical, and Other Concerns
by BethShelby
| Background The year was 1972. We'd learn I'm pregnant with another child after ten years. Things change at church and medical problem give us some concern. My husband is involved in building projects. |
When I missed my second period, I went looking for a gynecologist and made an appointment. It didn’t take long for him to confirm my suspicions. You didn’t have a lot to say about it, but I think you saw your trip back to the farm take giant leap backwards. We decided to keep the news under wraps until it became obvious. The psychic had struck again. This would be our fifth child if we counted Susan, who had died at two months.
The only person I told about my pregnancy was my friend Doris, from my last job in Jackson. She is the one person, with whom I seemed to have some kind of psychic connection. We had both had strange dreams about each other that had come true. Since we’d moved to the New Orleans area, I continued to correspond with her by letter. Within days, I got a letter from her saying she’d had another dream about me, and she thought I probably had some news I might like to share with her. I wrote her and confirmed that once again her dreams were accurate.
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You doubled down on our trips back to Mississippi, so you could spend as much time as possible doing work to our unfinished house in the country. You’d built some furniture and a workshop at the back of our lot in Jackson, but all of your carpentry skills were self-taught. You’d never hung drywall, but you were determined to do it.
As usual, you did everything the hard way. People who had been trained on the job in the building trade, would likely have laughed at your methods. Being a careful person and skilled in using rulers and t-squares, your way of accomplishing things worked, but were very time consuming. Instead of scoring with a sharp knife, which you later learned would have been a better way, you drew it off with a pencil and used a hand saw for cutting. You had Don, at nine, trying his best to be of help.
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At church, the new pastor had decided New Orleans needed a new church. The property in the Garden District downtown was prime real-estate, but the church was old and outdated. Pastor Griffin had some building experience, and he talked the board into relocating the church to Metairie. It came as a pleasant surprise to us that the property he found for sale was just slightly over a block from our new house. One of the members, who was an architect, drew up the plans, and work started immediately. Now instead of miles of driving in heavy traffic, our church would be in walking distance.
This pastor was someone who knew how to get things done quickly by using the talents of the members. In the Jackson church, you’d served as a deacon, and I taught in the primary division. Now we were, not only contributing extra money for building expenses, but the pastor had me doing art work and you contributing manual labor.
Not long after we were there, I was elected to a leadership role in the church activities before the preaching service began each week, and you were elected as a church elder. For me, it meant that I had to plan thirty minute programs involving making an inspirational talk and finding members willing to do vocal arrangements and offer prayer. I’d taken speech courses in college, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t subject to stomach butterflies while speaking publicly in front of a large audience.
My talks were well received, but no matter how much I thought about what I would say during the week, nothing ever came together for me, until the wee hours of the morning on the day I would give the talk. I would set my clock for four am and do a lot of anxious praying. Somehow, at that point, my mind would clear, and I’d know what I needed to say. I wonder if preachers ever go through that kind of anguish preparation for their sermons.
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You and I both avoided going to doctors unless faced with an emergency. During a routine physical with your job, the doctor decided you needed to be on blood pressure medicine. You and I both had what is referred to as “white coat syndrome”, because when faced with a doctor or someone wearing a stethoscope, our blood pressure sky-rocketed. I think you might have avoided a lot of problems if you’d never been put on the medicine, because the medication caused side effects which you’d never experienced before.
In my case, I suffered from a heart rhythm problem. I’d had it since shortly after the twins were born. The first time it happened, I had just turned a cartwheel in my parents yard, when my heart went from its normal 70 beat per minute to around 160. Some people can’t feel the change in rhythm, but I feel it immediately, and in the beginning, I was convinced I was dying.
If I rested, the beat would usually return to normal in 30 minutes or less. It occured if I stooped or reached up suddenly. Sometimes it happened if something made me anxious. I would become very short of breath and have to lie down. Eating excessive sweets also seem to trigger my heart palpitations.
When it went into the rapid beat several times within a month, I did go to a cardiologist, and after doing a few tests, he said my heart didn’t seem damaged. Since it wasn’t happening while I was there, he really couldn’t diagnose the problem. I had met a few other people who claimed to have the same symptoms, so I decided it was something I’d have to learn to deal with. I finally discovered a way to massage or press the artery on the left side of my throat which would usually cause the beat to normalize.
In time I would learn more, but since the doctor hadn’t helped, I tried avoiding things that caused problems, and I was uneasy that it might happen when I was speaking, or worse yet, while I was giving birth. As things were, it continued to cause me considerable stress each time it happened. I think you were as concerned about me as I was myself.
The only person I told about my pregnancy was my friend Doris, from my last job in Jackson. She is the one person, with whom I seemed to have some kind of psychic connection. We had both had strange dreams about each other that had come true. Since we’d moved to the New Orleans area, I continued to correspond with her by letter. Within days, I got a letter from her saying she’d had another dream about me, and she thought I probably had some news I might like to share with her. I wrote her and confirmed that once again her dreams were accurate.
---------
You doubled down on our trips back to Mississippi, so you could spend as much time as possible doing work to our unfinished house in the country. You’d built some furniture and a workshop at the back of our lot in Jackson, but all of your carpentry skills were self-taught. You’d never hung drywall, but you were determined to do it.
As usual, you did everything the hard way. People who had been trained on the job in the building trade, would likely have laughed at your methods. Being a careful person and skilled in using rulers and t-squares, your way of accomplishing things worked, but were very time consuming. Instead of scoring with a sharp knife, which you later learned would have been a better way, you drew it off with a pencil and used a hand saw for cutting. You had Don, at nine, trying his best to be of help.
-----------
At church, the new pastor had decided New Orleans needed a new church. The property in the Garden District downtown was prime real-estate, but the church was old and outdated. Pastor Griffin had some building experience, and he talked the board into relocating the church to Metairie. It came as a pleasant surprise to us that the property he found for sale was just slightly over a block from our new house. One of the members, who was an architect, drew up the plans, and work started immediately. Now instead of miles of driving in heavy traffic, our church would be in walking distance.
This pastor was someone who knew how to get things done quickly by using the talents of the members. In the Jackson church, you’d served as a deacon, and I taught in the primary division. Now we were, not only contributing extra money for building expenses, but the pastor had me doing art work and you contributing manual labor.
Not long after we were there, I was elected to a leadership role in the church activities before the preaching service began each week, and you were elected as a church elder. For me, it meant that I had to plan thirty minute programs involving making an inspirational talk and finding members willing to do vocal arrangements and offer prayer. I’d taken speech courses in college, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t subject to stomach butterflies while speaking publicly in front of a large audience.
My talks were well received, but no matter how much I thought about what I would say during the week, nothing ever came together for me, until the wee hours of the morning on the day I would give the talk. I would set my clock for four am and do a lot of anxious praying. Somehow, at that point, my mind would clear, and I’d know what I needed to say. I wonder if preachers ever go through that kind of anguish preparation for their sermons.
------
You and I both avoided going to doctors unless faced with an emergency. During a routine physical with your job, the doctor decided you needed to be on blood pressure medicine. You and I both had what is referred to as “white coat syndrome”, because when faced with a doctor or someone wearing a stethoscope, our blood pressure sky-rocketed. I think you might have avoided a lot of problems if you’d never been put on the medicine, because the medication caused side effects which you’d never experienced before.
In my case, I suffered from a heart rhythm problem. I’d had it since shortly after the twins were born. The first time it happened, I had just turned a cartwheel in my parents yard, when my heart went from its normal 70 beat per minute to around 160. Some people can’t feel the change in rhythm, but I feel it immediately, and in the beginning, I was convinced I was dying.
If I rested, the beat would usually return to normal in 30 minutes or less. It occured if I stooped or reached up suddenly. Sometimes it happened if something made me anxious. I would become very short of breath and have to lie down. Eating excessive sweets also seem to trigger my heart palpitations.
When it went into the rapid beat several times within a month, I did go to a cardiologist, and after doing a few tests, he said my heart didn’t seem damaged. Since it wasn’t happening while I was there, he really couldn’t diagnose the problem. I had met a few other people who claimed to have the same symptoms, so I decided it was something I’d have to learn to deal with. I finally discovered a way to massage or press the artery on the left side of my throat which would usually cause the beat to normalize.
In time I would learn more, but since the doctor hadn’t helped, I tried avoiding things that caused problems, and I was uneasy that it might happen when I was speaking, or worse yet, while I was giving birth. As things were, it continued to cause me considerable stress each time it happened. I think you were as concerned about me as I was myself.
 Recognized |
I'm continuing to recall memories of life with my deceased husband as if I am talking aloud to him. I'm doing this because I want my children to know us as we knew each other and not just as their parents.
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