The Heart

 I've learned how to be intuitive and read the signs. I had two instances of chest pain, one at the West Virginia Capitol in Charleston, in late July when I had 45 seconds to talk about why a ban on abortions is bad. This was after leaving home at 5:45 A.M. to get there by 8. The other time, I was walking my usual 1.5 mile route around my neighborhood, when I ran into my friend Eleanor, out with her dog. She asked how I was felling and I said "Great" then realized I didn't feel great. Then my campaign manager's husband, eighteen days younger than I am, died of a heart attack, and there was an article in the paper about how having COVID could mess up your heart. I had COVID in August. Also, my ankles were swollen, not a good sign. 

 I left a phone message for my cardiologist. The nurse called me back. She said "So you turned around and went home when you were walking?" Technically, no. I continued my route, uphill, only slowly. I'm like that. The doctor called me later and asked if I wanted a heart catheterization. I begged off, citing my campaign schedule (I'm running for U.S. Congress for the northern half of West Virginia). I agreed to a stress test for last Thursday morning, the day after Yom Kippur. I did great on the treadmill, going fast and steep, up to a heat rate of 146 bpm without chest pain. That afternoon, feeling good about the test, I walked a half mile to the PRT, West Virginia University's little trains that cover the sprawling campuses and downtown, and rode to a pro-choice rally on campus. I saw friends there and had the opportunity to speak. I thought about asking for a ride home from someone I knew who lives a few blocks from me, but decided to go back as I came. Yes, I was tired. I was walking the last few blocks, when my cell phone rang.

"Hi, Doc. How are you?" I asked. 

"How are you?" 

"You tell me." He said there was a problem in my heart, apparently where I had my original heart attack in 2003. So a catheterization was scheduled for today, October 10.

It took some time. I was there with my husband from 6:45 until 11:30. I  joked with the nurses beforehand, and told them about my campaign. They were impressed that I was married to a man for nearly fourteen years. I was impressed that my husband got up early and texted back and forth with my sister the whole time we were there, without telling me until we were home. There were other perks: a handsome young man shaved my arms and my groin. I asked him about his life and how he got this job. He's an undergrad at WVU, there is a short training period, and he wanted to work while he was in school. I admired his determination and work ethic. I would never have touched an old man, even in that extremely non-sexual way, when I was that young.

I was semi-out for the procedure. I sensed they were doing something, but I didn't know what. They were putting a camera through my arm to look at my heart. When it was over, the two doctors woke me and said everything was fine, they didn't need to do anything. I guess something was irregular, but not bad. The staff at WVU Heart and Vascular were all great, every one of them. The young man who assisted the nurses, the nurse who told me she gets up at 3:30 A.M. to go to work and has a 7-year old son, my cardiologist, who has worked with me for ten years, and the people who check you in and out. I respect and admire all of them.

My father died of heart failure at 69, and my mother at 75 of pancreatic cancer. I'll be 73 this month. I get that one can't expect to live forever. WVU Medicine still wants to operate on my left eye and look down my gullet to see what's cooking there. The skin people want me to put some crap on my bald head because they think I could develop cancer there. I'm a mess. And I see why people just give up and say "I'm not taking any more medical treatments." I'm still trying to work it all and stay healthy, and I understand how important it is that I have insurance (Medicare, basically) and don't pay for most treatments. I hope that this wealthy country can make sure someday soon that everyone is covered for medical treatments. I want to make that happen.

When I talk to college students about my campaign, I tell them this is my "capstone," the last thing I do before I graduate. If I win, I'll try for a second term. If I don't win, I won't run for office again (b'li neder, look it up) .

The people at the hospital all said I was lucky, lucky to meet my husband, lucky my heart is okay, lucky to be walking around nearly twenty years after a heart attack. If I were a Christian, I would say I was "blessed." As a Jew, I just say thanks to God for all the good things in my life so far, even knowing it won't go on forever. 

In "Interview With The Vampire," someone asks why there aren't more of them, since they can't be killed. And the answer is that they walk out in the sun, which kills them, after a hundred or two hundred years, because the world has changed so much and all the people they knew are gone. I understand that now. "My" era seems long ago, and I don't understand much of what goes on today. In "Lord of the Rings," Frodo sails away at the end, because he was bitten by the spider. He looks to have recovered, but he says he only stayed alive to write the story.

Maybe my next project will be to write the story.

5783, The Morgantown High Walk Out and "Bros."

 The Jewish year 5783 started September 25 with Rosh Hashana, and continues tomorrow night with Yom Kippur, a fast day, when God supposedly decides "who shall live and who shall die." The day after Yom Kippur, I will be at WVU Heart and Vascular Institute having a stress test to see if my heart is still working. It's inconvenient because I'm in the middle of a campaign for United States Congress. I am happy to be doing this, but not sleeping or relaxing enough and, yes, I'm stressed out. I never expected to work this hard at this age.

One thing I did, partly for the campaign, and partly just to show support, was go to Morgantown High School when there was a student walk-out last week. The issue was that the superintendent of Monongalia County School District said that, based on an opinion from an unnamed attorney, teachers could not put up gay pride flags in their classroom. I think only a few teachers had them, but those teachers and the students were angry that the flags disappeared, and the students staged a walkout after lunch.

Public schools have been attacked in the Legislature, by the Governor and right-wing pundits for teaching kids anything about racism or sex or anything that would make parents uncomfortable. I'm guessing this was a fear reaction on the part of the superintendent.

When I was in high school, more than fifty-five years ago, no one was gay. Many of us turned out to be gay years later, but not in school. Gay Pride flags didn't exist.I went to the demonstration without intending to speak, but a young woman got up and said "I'm tired of old, privileged, white cisgender men telling us how to live." When I had the chance, I grabbed the megaphone (which didn't work) and I said "I'm an old, privileged, cisgender white male... and I'm queer." I expressed my support for the students, and said that I had lost jobs because I was gay and that many of my close friends had died from AIDS in the 1980s and 1990s. I then pointed out that I was the first openly gay City Councilor in Morgantown and that I'm now a candidate for United States Congress. I knew two of the high school students in the crowd, and a young woman working at a restaurant told me this week that she had seen me at the demonstration. 

But what I really want to say to the students is this: In my school, the daring people were couples where one was Jewish and one Christian. Our neighborhoods, and therefore our schools, were segregated and the most shocking person you could date was someone from another religion. Two couples like that in my class were told "it can't possibly work out." One of the couples was pregnant before we graduated. Both came to our 50th reunion in 2018 (a year late), and the pregnant one recently gloated on Facebook about a 56th anniversary, and how people told them they wouldn't stay together. So here's my message to the students at the demo: "Look around your school and see who you like and could live with. You are not too young to do this. I was attracted to a fellow student in high school and I think he was attracted to me also. We could never act on that and because he was Christian and I was Jewish and we lived in different neighborhoods, we couldn't really be close friends. I wish I could have gone to the 50th reunion with him, and said 'See, it did work out.' I didn't do that, but in more than 50 years, you could go to the reunion with your same-gender, trans or non-binary high school pal. I hope you would say 'That Barry Wendell told us we could do this, and he was right.' Don't be afraid to love."

My husband Joe is the rabbi at our local synagogue in Morgantown and he's stressed about the holidays, and a hundred other things he has to do. My stress is mostly about my Congressional campaign and my health. I've seen reviews of the movie "Bros," called a "gay rom-com," unusual because the gay characters are played by openly gay actors. Joe was washing dishes after dinner when I announced I was going to the 7 P.M. show at a local theater. I was surprised that it was playing in Morgantown, since edgy movies don't often get here. Joe dropped the sponge in the sink and ran to get a jacket and off we went. It was definitely entertaining and sexy. The lead actors weren't young, but certainly cute enough, and there were supporting actors who were different shades of gay and trans and different races. That was the P.C. part. 

Billy Eichner, who plays the lead and cowrote the script has a great speech about how he was always told to "tone it down" and appear "normal" and how it took him years to understand who he really was and be able to be that person. Joe started rabbinical school at 47. I started taking acting, singing and dance lessons at 36, started studying cantorial music at 43 and entered politics at 66. We both were held back in careers we didn't really like because we were gay and clearly not "normal" people. Now, late in life, we both understand who we really are, and while as clergy and politician we still have to hold back a bit, at least we are fully aware of our strengths and weaknesses. 

I've read that the box office for this movie was dismal, but we loved it. It's well acted, charming, sexy, good to look at and there were some laugh-out-loud bits, some of which might only be understood by gay audiences. Joe and I were the only ones in the theater at 7 P.M. on a Monday. If it's only a movie for certain gay people (I think it has universal appeal) it was still worthwhile, and I applaud everyone involved in it. I was moved and my thoughts were provoked.

It's well after 11 now, and I have to work on my campaign tomorrow and go to services in the evening tomorrow night and most of the day Wednesday. If I pass the stress test Thursday morning, I have three local events the rest of the day, and I'm to be in a parade out of town Saturday morning. Joe is teaching a class tomorrow afternoon at Life-Long Learning before services. I'm glad we took time out to go to a movie where we saw better-looking (and a generation younger) versions of ourselves. We needed to laugh and cry and be out of our regular life for a few hours. 

I hope everyone is sealed in the Book of Life for a healthy and fulfilling 5783.