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Sat Jan 22 02:56:56 AM EST 2022
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The temperature swings are just short of maddening, but they
are definitively on the cold side. That plus the years lead
to more than the occasional creaky bones. But that's not it.

I don't remember how long it's been this way -- maybe 20
years? There's a peculiar pinch at the join of my left
shoulder and my neck that shows up from time to time. The
best I can tell? That's where the stress settles.

Shavasana. The hijabbed trainee averted her eyes as I took
off my jacket, sweatshirt, and t-shirt, and lay back on the
table. I closed my eyes. Soon enough, the oil and the
pressing. For the next 20-minutes, the adjustments, the
pressing, and the occasional whooshing and whirling sounds
of my blood moving through the different valves in my heart.

The echo-cardiogram is every-so-often routine, scheduled
sometime around the physical. The first one I had was just a
few years ago. I scheduled an appointment with an
orthopedist to look at my shoulder. Excessive violin
practice, I figured, pinching in the crook of my neck with
awkward posture. It was getting worse. The pain was building
daily. That resulted in a few weeks of physical therapy...
just not before the orthopedist made a call, gave me a slip
of paper to hand-deliver, and sent me to the ER across the
parking lot.

Blood and urine, EKG, an MRI, and a few hours on an IV and a
monitor, as they gathered their data and watched my blood
pressure descend to within their tolerances. They couldn't
believe I was alive.  They couldn't believe I wasn't passed
out on the floor.  Completely asymptomatic and functioning
normally -- a marvel they all had to come and see.

In another timeline, maybe I died that day. In this one,
there is the constant blood pressure-raising irritation to
satisfy the doctors once per quarter or more so they will
renew the prescriptions to keep me coming no more than once
per quarter, leaving me with all of the side-effects in
between.

But that association with the shoulder pain? Lying on the
table, shavasana -- the "corpse pose" -- examining each
muscle in my body, consciously releasing the tension
everywhere -- especially that shoulder as I listened to the
valves open and close with that double-tap rhythm,
forgetting for a moment why I was there.

Shavasana -- it turns out that I was dead in every timeline,
if only for a moment. And the resurrection? The hijabbed
trainee averted her gaze again as I dressed.