The turned out to be a very memorable kind of week. So much shock and anger and hurt outside, some fear and challenge to my life inside.

All week, my heart was going out to the awful suffering in our country, to the bitterness and division, the politics and resentments, Houston, Puerto Rico, Florida, Las Vegas, Washington. But my heart was also trying to talk to me. It was murmuring, and I have to listen to it again.

This weekend, we are working hard to prepare for our Open House, and then a week later, a trip to New Mexico, the first vacation Maria and I have had since our trip to Disney World. In some ways, the first real vacation we have had together. It was hard to feel excited about the Open House and our trip with all of the awful news, but it would be a lie to say we weren’t looking forward to this weekend the trip beyond.

There was enough going on in the world and in our lives to deal with, but something else arose during the week. I had my regular  diabetes check – I go three or four times a year – and was much praised for my low A1C number, the number doctors look at first to see how people are managing their diabetes.

Mine was “excellent,” said the nurse practitioner. She said she wanted to buy me flowers.

Then she checked my heart, and I saw the frown, and then I saw her do it again and again. “You have a heart murmur,” she said. “You didn’t have it during your last check up, so this is a new onset murmur. You need to tell your cardiologist.”

My heart did sink, I didn’t even want to tell Maria about this, she was so busy getting her art show ready, and so excited about our trip together. We are staying close to Georgia O’Keefe’s studio, of course. A lot of museum visits for us.

Lots of people have heart murmurs – the irregular sound of blood flowing irregularly through the heart – and many are innocent and require no treatment. Some are serious, and indicate faulty heart valves,  more open heart surgery or heart valve replacement surgery.

Another of those stop the heart and re-arrange it procedures that they claim are routine, but are not to me.

When my heart murmured, my mind goes back to my open heart surgery four years ago. It was successful, but it was hard, it took me nearly a year to heal. And it changed my life, my broken heart needs attention a lot of the time.

Last week, I had my eyes examined, and they found some issues with my retina, I have to see a retinal eye specialist Monday morning. I was seeing some strange things when I read, and some other issues with my eyes have arisen and the regular ophthalmologist referred me to a retina specialist, he said there was a problem, and he wouldn’t say much more other than that it should be taken seriously.

So I’m  taking it seriously.

Being another male doctor, he wouldn’t say anything more.

The prospect of sight troubles and having another round of open heart surgery took hold, I feared the old panic that I used to live with when things went wrong. But it didn’t come. I have come a long ways, I practice radical acceptance. Life happens, and I just myself by how I deal with it.

. It wasn’t the procedures that frightened me, I know I can handle them,  it was the idea of crossing a threshold into a new era, where my life would be bonded by doctor’s appointments, tests, trips to the pharmacy, pills and the kind of narcissism, that often grips people who must monitor themselves all of the time.

I dread the thought of Maria having to be my caretaker, her own life is full and blooming. And I dread more doctor’s visits and pills.

Murmurs in heart patients often suggest valve problems, and valve problems often lead to more open heart surgery.

I am pretty stoic about these things, I will do what I have to do, but I’d rather enjoy our Open House and finish planning for our vacation. I don’t want to live under a cloud.

For patients who have had open heart surgery and also angina, murmurs are taken quite seriously, especially if they are new.  The question is why now? There are no innocent heart murmurs are changes for me people like me, I guess the murmur can be a shout or an alarm. Or maybe nothing serious.

Once again, it is possible that my heart is talking to me. This time, I will listen. I feel good, I told the nurse tech, I don’t feel sick. A good sign, she said.

When I called my cardiologist, he very quickly – and somewhat urgently – scheduled an echocardiogram for this morning, Friday. I just got back.

I told the nurse that there was no way I was missing either the Open House or our New Mexico vacation, no matter what was happening, and she laughed at me. I’ve been doing this a long time, she said, if you need to, you will go to the hospital.

The cardiologist is right next to the hospital, she said I should keep the day clear. I had the test, and I connected with the technician, who is retiring next year, loves her work, and is going to the ocean to dig up clams and garden, for the rest of her life.

On the examining table, stripped of everything but my pants, peeking at the monitor showing my heart,  I kept thinking of the people who went to the country music concert in Las Vegas, and of how hundreds of people did not get home that night. Life is fragile, and I need to accept it. The good news is that so many people are working so hard to take care of each other, and there are many uplifting stories of heroism and compassion as of bloodshed and savagery.

I was anxious about the echo tests and the murmur. I have a lot of good work to do, at the Mansion, with the refugees. I’m not ready to scale back, not for a month, not for a week.

There was no way, I told Maria, that she would skip or miss the Open House, if it came to that, and no way I would agree to anything that kept us from New Mexico. She has been dreaming of this trip for years. She told me not to make any decisions about it without talking to her.

I also did some serious thinking about how I wish to live for the rest of my life, how many doctors I want to see, how many pills I want to take. I wasn’t sure I would go for another round of open heart surgery. I was thinking about a lot of things. Maria said to call her the second I knew anything.

The nurse was meticulous in administering the test, we talked easily, it was painless, and when it was over, she told me I could get dressed and leave, just go home.

I was surprised. She said she couldn’t diagnose me, but she also said if anything showed up that suggested something seriously wrong, they would call me right away. She just didn’t seem worried about it, so I stopped worrying about it.

They would review the tests later and if I didn’t hear from them, don’t think much about it. I gave my vacation speech again, and she wasn’t impressed either.

So it feels to me like I’m okay. I’m not sure what my heart is murmuring to me, or why, but I am grounded again, glad this troubling week is over, excited about the Open House and beyond. I’m thinking about our vacation again, and how to take more good photos, not my heart.

I’m saving up for a new art lens coming out in April.

I called Maria when I got out of the doctor’s office, but she had left her phone in the house and gone to her studio. I started to worry about her, and then she got my message and called me right back. We both felt very good about it. So I told my heart to do its work and we would check in later.

You never know, but when my time comes I think it will be because my heart finally decided to retire. That’s not a bad way to go, all things considered.

I see now that I was frightened this morning (because I feel so much better now), thinking a lot about mortality and preparing myself to enter yet another phase of life.

One day, maybe, but not, I think, today.  And not before New Mexico.

In a very sad way, the bad news from the world outside was a gift to me. I reminded me of how lucky I am, and of the sanctity of perspective.

I hope my Monday eye visit goes as well.