Good morning, good morning. I had a lovely Mother’s Day yesterday: had a fantastic drive out into the countryside, with my good man behind the wheel, we listened to an audiobook and some music and chatted. Getting ready for our big trek out west! Nathan and I are celebrating our 31st wedding anniversary next month, and we still never run out of things to talk about. Nathan is so clever, and he knows so many things, and if he doesn’t know the answer to a question he makes something up, and it’s usually very funny. We are going to have a blast on our trip. And both of us need it.

Well, later today I am getting an electrocardiogram, that will be interesting, I’ve never had that test before. I was having some bad leg swelling earlier this year and they just want to be sure my heart is working well. Fingers crossed! sometimes I think about my “insides” and how they churn away keeping me going. We are wondrous creatures. “Fearfully and wonderfully made.” I wrote a poem about it once. The word “interoception” means any of the senses that detect conditions within the body. I have a very keen sense of interoception. When I do body scans for mindfulness I really do sense each part, if you know what I mean. I can make each part buzz with energy. I can focus my attention on each part of my body. I can tell things are working or not pretty easily. The one-time interoception failed me is when I had a tumor on my ovary. It was big, too, but I did not sense it. I’m beyond grateful for doctors and tests like the one I’m getting today. Medical miracles, I tell you. I often will express my wonderment and appreciation to the people that perform the tests. I think they appreciate it. Or they think I’m a nut.

I found my interoception poem, it’s a sonnet.

Interoception

Sometimes I like to play a game,

To contemplate my own insides:

My skeleton, a bony frame

As organs grind, diversified.

Under the largest, tracts of skin,

Unbid sensations rise and fall,

Miles of intestines lie within,

Passing the nutrients to all

The freeways of my veins, pursued:

The red, the white and plasma, flush

All through my lungs, a breath, renewed

Onward, throughout my body rush;

  The beating of my tireless heart,

Where every moment has its start.

I need to write more poetry, it’s been a while and I don’t want to get rusty.

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I am back from my Echocardiogram. It is an awesome and sobering thing to see your own heart beating. It has made me feel very introspective. Time to take care of my heart.