(Un)Encumbered?

It’s all been a lot to process since the heart attack. There’s the usual noises of those around you who either mouth words politely or are genuinely concerned.

“How are you?”
“How are you feeling?”
and so on.

It’s reflexive. I’ve said the words before with the inflection at the end. Sometimes friendly and soft, sometimes measured and stern, mostly somewhere in between, tailored for the brain of the person I’m speaking to. I’ve had less problems with getting it wronger as I got older.

I got older. I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. In raw terms, it means that the fleshy bits of me are wearing out from this friction we call life. My mind has become a bit proud that it has withstood time better, but I know all the dumb things it has done in the past so I’m not all that impressed. In fact, some of the wear and tear on the body was because of dumb decisions the mind made. Let’s call it a wash. Even on my most open day, the my life is redacted and left to those who shared those days.

I’ve been leery about writing about what’s happened since I last documented the hospital stay. It’s good writing material, and I have been documenting it, but it’s best made public after the fact so I’m steering clear of it and – for obvious reasons – it has been occupying my mind.

There’s a world out there.

There’s a world out there.

I’m not writing about the world we all agree to, the things we take for granted and don’t question, even down to social graces and traditions.

There’s a world out there beyond what you see, what I see, what we all see. If you have a moment, it’s thoroughly interesting.

Our minds have this way of taking shortcuts. It’s the way we have managed to survive dangerous creatures and even social situations. Being afraid of snakes, spiders, heights, etc. – those are survival traits. If you’re not afraid of them you better be good at killing them quickly, using that adrenaline to fight instead of run. Survival of surviving a battle with a dangerous creature is likely not as high as running away, in general.

Beyond our reflexive responses lays a level of interaction that allows us to change the responses. I was afraid of snakes, so I raised some and got to know them and also myself just a little bit better. Spiders I wasn’t afraid of, but heights, sure. So I jumped off of things, out of things, etc. When you understand how much time you feel you have on the way down, you’re free of everything for a relatively short time.

If the reality we see is real, when it gets challenged it shouldn’t change. So what shaped the reality? What you shove into your sensors and brain, or what was shoved in. We who would deign to train AIs to be better than us are as flawed as our sense of reality, and that sense is so fragile that when others don’t share our sense of reality we discard them rather than explore them. We may even mock them, all the while wondering how dumb the other person is to not see things the way we do. Or how their personality is flawed. Or how they’re too ‘woke’ or ‘unwoke’.

To be fair, that last one seems fair criticism both ways most of the time. I identify as a social critic. Bite me.

When we have polarized disagreements, nothing good happens. Being ‘right’ doesn’t change things, it just makes you look like you have the power of foresight. Understanding why other people think they are ‘right’ is key to us understanding ourselves and coming to a reality we can all agree on. It is easy to write but almost impossible to happen.

Instead, people shout at each other because of the mob around them that gives them comfort and the illusion of safety. It becomes about dominance, and when it’s a battle for dominance expect blood. The world we have built, this reality, doesn’t tolerate the perception of weakness. It’s as unforgiving as we are, which is no mistake. That is, for better or worse, who we are. At least now.

It doesn’t have to be who we are, but we collectively chose this way for quite some time. Most of it probably started long ago, before the different religions that showed up all claiming that they were all right. We created Gods who are as vengeful as we are, largely written by men who decided that writing and dressing funny was more important than pleasurable procreation. Those guys had to be miserable. And because they were miserable, they made other guys like them copy them.

They had good days though, taking poetic license with what could be encapsulated in a 5 word sentence: “Be nice to each other.” On the bad days things were smitten, burned, or otherwise destroyed. On the good days, seas were parted. On the bad days, there were floods. I could do other references, but those are pretty well known across this human society – it’s woven into our reality, even if we’re not that religion. Few question it. Most go along with it. It’s easier that way. We like doing things that are easy. To defy a commonly agreed upon reality is a dangerous thing to do.

Thinking beyond the box is heresy to some, but the only box there is what some other people agreed to propagate. It’s the box agreed upon implicitly, unconsciously, and it does not always suit us well.

Afterword and Observations: An Overloaded System

This is a placeholder. It will be updated in time.

Aftercare

I did get that angiogram at the Advanced Cardiac Institute. It cost less than I expected and more than I wanted, but it got done that very same week I walked out of the public health system.

They asked me to shave my groin should they be unable to use my wrist.

That was intimidating, particularly still having blood thinners working their magic. There’s no real way I could have bled out from a razor nick, but the idea of having my body found in the bathroom with a razor against my groin in a pool of blood did stick in my mind throughout the process. I managed no bleeding, and I never want to have to do that again, thank you very much.

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Dancing Beyond The Medical System

Awakenings

I awoke the next morning in St. James Medical Complex, Internal Medicine a little more refreshed than before as I soaked in the routine, from making the walk to brush my teeth and shower to having my vital signs taken and being given my medications.

When I first came into St. James Complex, I was told that they hadn’t ‘gotten my medications yet’ and that the nurses had managed to get them together. Today, they didn’t say that. It’s a strange thing to notice, but I was distracted by the sounds of the birds outside.

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Reprieve: St. James Medical Complex, Internal Medicine

Inverted anatomical image of a heart in crisis, done in pastels.

Settling In

The new space to me, St. James Internal Medicine, was much more comfortable than Port of Spain General’s Obervation Ward, which in turn was more comfortable than Casualty.

There were more patients. I noted a few that were restrained, hinting at altered levels of consciousness. One gentleman, who saw me walking around when I first arrived, motioned me over so I went to say hi.

Having my attention, he motioned against a restraint while looking at it – the universal way of saying, “Untie me!”. I explained to him if I did that I would be tied down myself, and that wouldn’t do either of us any good. He nodded his understanding and smiled conspiratorially.

I’m glad we cleared that up.

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An Overloaded System: From Observation to Internal Medicine in Another Location

An anatomical heart done in ink, vignetted by black ink with diagonal lines demonstrating stress.

Day 3

Waking up after my a decent night’s rest – thanks to that Venezuelan nurse and her sacrifice of the fan – I felt good. The lights were on and had probably just been turned on. The nurse was making rounds. I’d heard the tell-tale sound of the velcro of a blood pressure cuff. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited – she only had 3 more patients to get to me.

She was also distributing medications in those small paper cups that serve no other purpose.

She got to me and my blood pressure was down. I’d ‘scored’ much better than the previous days, and my blood pressure had dipped lower the day before but today was right about where a 20 year old’s blood pressure should be. It was 127/80.

I wasn’t feeling 20 years old. In the moment, I couldn’t pin down an age I felt. I didn’t even care about age. If you ask me when I’m not expecting it, I have to subtract the present year from my birth year if I want to be accurate otherwise I just guess. Birthdays made no sense to me. Counting revolutions I’ve been on the planet seemed pretty small considering the planet revolves before and after us.

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An Overloaded System – Port of Spain General Hospital (Observation, Day One)

Day One, Observation, Day Two in Hospital

The night prior, I’d gotten to know a few of the people on the ward. One had part of his foot removed because of diabetes, another was there because of a kidney issue which he said was related to Covid-19, and he was here for dialysis and tests. He had been shuffled more than a pack of cards at a local bar, as he explained it.

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An Overloaded System: Port of Spain General Hospital (Casualty)

After what I wrote as the Prequel, on Tuesday, the 4th of February, 2025, I had a friend drive me to Valley Medical in Diego Martin. I found myself quickly ushered to the back to see a doctor when I explained I was short of breath.

Valley Medical, Diego Martin

Within 30 minutes I had an ECG and blood drawn, and was sitting next to a doctor who explained to me that I was having a heart attack. This was the first time a Doctor said that to me, and it seemed surreal. I looked over the ECG, which he showed me, and intellectually I understood. Yup. This was a heart attack. I just still didn’t feel like I was having one.

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Prequel: The Self-Defeating Heart

People had been telling me to slow down but were not putting in effort themselves, as if things would somehow get done themselves – and I, being who I am, hate waiting on other people on things I can do myself. What some might call stress, I call a period of contraction before relaxation, the systole before the diastole.

In other words, this is how I have viewed the world. Some things simply need to get done, and if they’re not getting done, someone has to do them and all too often I am the one who does them because while I feel others may be letting themselves off the hook, I cannot. It bothers me when things aren’t getting done. It stresses me when things aren’t getting done.

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Cognitive Offloading Risks Versus Potential Short Term Gains.

Someone asked me yesterday, “Why do you think people aren’t taking the cognitive decline and other trade offs of using AI and digital tools more seriously?”. Of course, this has to do with the dangers of cognitive offloading in the context of use of AI rather than cognitive decline, but I knew what was meant.

I responded with a skeleton reply – it was on LinkedIn, after all, and don’t feel like feeding their AI too much. I also asked a few different AIs, and I was surprised at how poor the responses on that were until I remembered that they were trained on writing done for marketing.

We Ourselves Are Limited

Our brains, according to the latest research, only process information at about 10 bits/second. That’s not very much. Also, our attention spans at last check were at about 47 seconds.

Toss in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs and the increased income disparity, we can see how it can be more challenging for some than others.

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