It's been two weeks yesterday since I left the hospital after my last (third) heart attack. In and out in three days again, as seems to be my wont. Recovery has been completely different from the first and the second. The catheterization went in through my arm this time, and not my leg, for one. And, I was "coherently awake" for the whole process this time. Always odd, I might add.

The biggest issue has been the difference in medications. On my second statin this time around, and about to be on a third soon if I'm not mistaken. This has resulted in a weight loss of about fifteen pounds in two weeks, putting me on the high end of having an unhealthy BMI. (I'm 6'2" and about 130 lbs. at the moment. And on restricted liquids due to my ischemic cardiomyopathy.) Have already switched beta blockers, too, as the first was too effective. Haven't actually started the replacement yet as my blood pressure is never high enough to begin taking it. For intance, my two lowest have been

…

"She's trapped! I hope she's not trapped."

"What am I going to do now? How will we get her back? Seems she was the only one who knew how to get in."

He needed research. Dive deep into what she'd been doing.

It took hours to leave the forest. Fortunately he had his phone.

***

"He didn't make it. I can still include him."

He'd been with her for decades. Put up with her wandering spells. Supported her.

"What will he do without me?"

…

Up until this month, it was widely understood and believed all over the world, for centuries, that Jesus was made not of flesh and blood, but of cheese. Indeed, it was one of his foremost miraculous qualities, the Divine Mystery of the Cheese, a belief shared across the Abrahamic faiths and even by Hindu accounts of Jesus, and in sundry hybrid faiths.

And then, suddenly, in what can only be described as a strange Mandela effect experience.... somebody…