“Hey, Gin…wow, you’ve been busy this morning! No, not really. PVC here and there, probably just under a lot of stress. Oh, he did have one short burst of atrial flutter, but it resolved quickly.”
“Not surprising—he was complaining of fluttering sensations in his chest. You ran a strip for the doc, right?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress, probably mostly self-induced. He needs to make some serious changes in his life or he may not be so lucky in the future. I’ll go down and talk with him. Thanks, Mick.”
“Sure Gin…better take it a little easier yourself. Heard you got pretty worked up with that last admit—Scumby the Dopehead, or whatever his name is.”
“Yeah, our paths have crossed before. He’s about as low as a human can sink. He should just kill himself and get it over with—make the world a better place for sure. Hopefully he’ll be out of here and on to rehab soon. I’m goin’ to check on Kingsley…”
Terry Kingsley was not a man to waste time. Since his arrival on the telemetry unit, he had been on the phone constantly with his office. As Gin entered the room, he was sitting up in bed with two laptop computers on his overbed table and a cell phone lodged between his shoulder and his ear. “Tell them no deal,” he stated firmly. “That’s in a great building with a fabulous western view. It’s worth well over 2.5 mil.! I’ll get back with you,” he added, noticing Gin in the doorway.
“Ms. Morrison, how much longer do I have to stay in here, anyway? I’ve been here two hours and have been poked and prodded from just about every angle. Anything showing up on your fancy heart monitors?”
“Well, Mr. Kingsley, we are seeing a few PVCs—actually, more frequently than is normal. And you did have a short run of atrial flutter.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Well, basically that you’re having some irregular heartbeats. The atrial flutter will cause you to feel something like palpitations.”
“Yeah, that’s what woke me up this morning and why my wife brought me in. What causes that?”
“Oh, any number of things. Could just be the stress of your job or, possibly, something more serious. I’m sure your doctor will get to the bottom of it, though.”
“And what’s a PVC?”
“I’m sorry. Premature ventricular contraction. It means that a part of your heart called the ventricle—the part that pumps blood out to the rest of your body—is contracting a little irregularly.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Well, it certainly can be if it persists or worsens. Poor diet, stress, lack of sleep…things like that are often responsible. I’m sure you have none of that in your life, though, right?” Gin tilted her head down, raised an eyebrow, and looked a little skeptically over at Mr. Kingsley.
“Well, what am I supposed to do? I’m a principal broker with a large real estate firm, and it’s my job to see that the office is running smoothly, that transactions are handled correctly, and that all my agents are performing as expected. Should I do a few chants and take a yoga break or something? Keep a bowl of sprouts on my desk to munch on? What do you suggest, Ms. Morrison?”
Gin raised her chin and looked him directly in the eye. “Well, I suppose that would depend on what’s more important to you—your job or your life. That decision should help you put things a bit more into perspective. This was a wake-up call. Next time you may not wake up at all. Is your job worth that?”
“Not really, no,” Terry said with a sigh. “I love what I do, but I’m definitely not ready to die. I have young kids and a beautiful wife who depend on me. I make a lot of money and I’m very successful, but no, none of it is worth dying for. What do you suggest I do?”
“Get some balance in your life,” Gin suggested. “Your job is stressful, but you seem to thrive on it. You just carry it too far. Draw the line…take off weekends, be through at five, set some boundaries. Learn to delegate. I’m sure you have other people that can handle these sorts of issues when you’re not there. If not, I strongly suggest that you begin grooming someone. Next, start to appreciate your body, not abuse it. Regular exercise is critical. Find something that you enjoy that is physically strenuous and do it several times a week. Take walks with your wife. Set up a home gym if you don’t have time to go to one. Definitely stop smoking. Nicotine is a potent vasoconstrictor—tightens your blood vessels—which aggravates any existing disease. Rethink your diet: no fast foods, minimal sugar, no sodas, diet or otherwise, no processed foods, lots of organic fruits and vegetables. Maybe get a low-RPM juicer—an Omega or something similar that preserves the natural enzymes—and blend some fruits and vegetables into a drink that you like. Eat a salad at least twice a day—I even eat salad for breakfast, if you can believe that! Choose colorful things like apples, oranges, berries, purple cabbage, red peppers, tomatoes, carrots, dark-green things like kale, spinach, romaine lettuce, and the like. Throw in half a lemon, an avocado, some cilantro, parsley, celery, and a few nuts of your choosing, and you’ll have a pretty powerful meal! Eat less and not late at night. Minimize meats and then only wild or grass-fed. Get on a good supplement program. Drink plenty of filtered water. Cut down the alcohol to an occasional glass of red wine. No white stuff—white flour, sugar, or rice. No doughnuts, cakes, candies, cookies, pies, etc. No high-fructose corn syrup. ABSOLUTELY no diet sodas! Minimal, if any, dairy products. No GMO foods. All organics. Get plenty of rest—in bed by 10:00 p.m. Starting to get the picture, Terry?”
“Wow, I don’t do ANY of those things, not even one! That sounds like a lot of change. I’m not sure I’m up to all that.”
“Do what you can. Stop smoking, for starters. That has to be the most retarded practice on the planet. Start exercising! How hard is that? Find something you like and do it! Get more sleep. Cut out the sodas. Make just a few dietary changes, like the salads. Surely you can at least do that, can’t you?”
“I guess. Sounds like I really don’t have much choice, do I?” Terry looked like he had just lost his best friend. “This really sounds overwhelming! I’ve been smoking for twenty years—I’m not sure I can even stop doing that, let alone all the rest.”
“That’s totally up to you.” Gin reached down and touched his hand. “You’re a responsible executive, Mr. Kingsley. Run your body like you run your business. I’m sure you wouldn’t tolerate practices at work that you could see were ruining your reputation and profit margins, would you? Take care of your body in the same way. Wake up and stop being manipulated by industries and corporations that have no interest in your well-being. Take charge of your health as if it were your real estate firm. No slacking. No excuses. Just good performance. The universe is giving you another chance, and I’m your messenger. You won’t be running anything from the grave site!”
“Wow, you don’t let up, do you?” Terry looked into Gin’s eyes and felt the warmth of her hand on his. For just a moment, and most unexpectedly, it felt like there were no boundaries between them—that she was him and he was her—both a part of something bigger and more beautiful than he could even describe. It only lasted an instant, but as their eyes met, there was no more separateness, no isolation, no struggle. There was only a gentle peace, an overwhelming sense of just being loved, and a surprising compassion and connection with all of life. For once, he was at a loss for words; he just wanted to hold her hand and keep that feeling forever.
“Mr. Kingsley, have I lost you?” Gin’s voice
