It’s a hard thing knowing that you’ve crossed the line between your mortality being something amorphous, vaguely present, but hard to define, and the moment that you learn that it is most definitely finite.  I’ve cross that line.  I am going to die.

On Christmas morning, I suffered heart failure at my mother’s house in Hagerstown, MD.  My lungs were clouded with fluid, my heart too weak to pump it off.  That problem was taken care of with medicine, but I was transported  home to Washington, D.C.’s Washington Hospital Center for further testing and evaluation.

It turns out that I have an extremely weak heart — probably have had one my whole life.  The question is not if it will give out, but when and how.  I’m on medication to help regulate it, but if it doesn’t work, I will be given a defibrillator implant to make sure that if my heart stops, it will resume.  I will also be placed on a transplant list for a new heart.

It is very hard for me to type these words, to accept them.  Just two weeks ago, I was a 34-year-old man with a chronic cough.  Now I’m a man who could die tomorrow, today, in a minute.  It’s hard to even bring these thoughts into my head — but they’re true.  Now I have to learn to accept them.

I have panic attacks — and the only thing that makes me feel better is anti-anxiety medicine.  I am afraid to get up and a walk around — is what I’m feeling a cardiac event or anxiety?  

I must regain control over my life — what’s left of it — but to do that I have to accept the fact that I will die.  Submit to it.  And only then will I be able to stand tall and move forward, marching toward the inevitable while still enjoy what’s left.  I don’t know if I’m up to the task.

Wish me luck.

My favorite video at the moment:

“The compromise of sleep …”

I’m not particularly interested in pornography or vintage pin-ups, but I am interested in how a regular person can become an icon — particularly many, many years after their original brush with fame. That’s the story of Bettie Page, the famous pinup model who was rediscovered in the 1980’s and became a powerful brand akin to say Mickey Mouse or Elvis Presley.

The thing is, I thought that Bettie Page was already dead — long dead, in fact. It’s somewhat sad to think that this person whose image has become part of our popular culture psyche was still alive, yet few of us knew it.

You can read more here.

Oh yes, Obama’s centrist language that appealed to progressive moderates like me was just the outrageous lies of an unabashed Marxist. It’s nothing but leftist stalwarts in his cabinet — not a centrist to be found, much less a conservative.

Of course, the radical left is ecstatic about the way his appointments have gone thus far. According to Politico, it’s like all their dreams have come true:

OpenLeft blogger Chris Bowers went so far as to issue this plaintive plea: “Isn’t there ever a point when we can get an actual Democratic administration?”

C’mon Chris, you don’t get more progressive than Robert Gates or General James Jones! Someone needs to pull out that old dog-eared copy of Das Kapital to refresh himself on what real leftism is all about.

All you have to do is read the conservative blogs to realize just how crazy and radical this guy Obama is. These socialist appointments, of course, have worked to distract us from the real challenge ahead — the return of the fairness doctrine.

Not a single Democrat I’ve seen — including comrades Obama, Pelosi and Reid — has even brought this up as being part of their legislative agenda. Which means, of course, that there’s a secret conspiracy to push Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Hugh Hewitt, etc. off the air and replace them with guys like Ed Schultz, Bill Press and Randi Rhodes! I can only image how smoky and sinister those Democratic caucus meetings must be, between the fairness doctrine conspiracy, these liberal appointments, and the cover up of Obama’s true father (none other than one Malcolm Shabazz, aka Malcolm X!) and secret birth place somewhere in Kenya or Indonesia or the communist Ukraine.

There’s been an ongoing discussion on progressive blogs regarding the D.C. statehood issue. Some, like Kos, believe that D.C. should be annexed into Maryland or Virginia. Others are suggesting abolishing the federal income tax and creating “Hong Kong on the Potomac.” But how about a simpler approach — why not just grant our congressional delegate a vote?

The idea of dumping D.C. into Maryland or Virginia is just offensive to Washingtonians — D.C. has its own unique culture and history, and I’m not sure Washingtonians (and I’m referring to the real Washingtonians, those of us who love this city and consider it our home, not the transients who come here for government jobs, appointments, or internships and then run back home to Minnesota or wherever when their job ends) would be too excited about suddenly become Virginians, or helping to expand the tax-base of Prince George’s County, MD. We could live in Virginia and Maryland if we wanted to, but we choose to live in the District instead. Some could say that we also choose not to have congressional representation — that’s a true statement, but it misses the point that the world’s greatest democracy purposefully denies the residents of its capitol city congressional representation. How can we argue for democracy in Iraq and Afghanistan, if we don’t believe the residents of D.C. deserve adequate representation in congress?

I think a single congressional vote is a fair compromise. It wouldn’t have the unbalancing impact of adding two more votes to the senate, but would be just one more progressive vote in the House. I’m still in favor of last year’s failed plan of giving us a vote and then balancing it out with a vote for a growing red state like Utah. Our population is bigger than the population of Wyoming — we should get some representation, but full representation seems unrealistic to me.