We live our lives with heart in Loveland

When a friend phoned me yesterday, I gave her a run down on my week.

“Monday and Tuesday, I looked for two postage stamps, two envelopes and one working pen so I could mail some letters.”

Then I hit the highlights. “I went to the podiatrist on Thursday morning. Got my toenails clipped and callouses removed. I’m pounds lighter.”

“On Friday,” I continued, “I went to see my doctor to have my meds adjusted.”

“A banner headline week,” she laughed.

I really like my doctor and enjoy our visits. But I’d rather have a tooth extracted than have my blood pressure (BP) taken.

Having my BP taken scares the wits out of me.

I have White Coat Hypertension — a condition experienced by one in five adults. My BP shoots skyward when taken in a medical setting.

When I take my blood pressure at home, it will run so low you’d think I’m in a coma.

Before I go to the doctor’s, I call my friend Barb, who listens patiently to my hysteria and talks me off the ledge.

So, I am sitting in the waiting room, taking deep breaths, telling myself to “…imagine going deeper, deeper, into relaxation.”

This time-honored relaxation technique didn’t work.

After a few minutes, the medical assistant calls my name. I jump, pretending to be all cheery. Hip, hip, cheerio.

I look for a People Magazine as I wait. I don’t know why I want a magazine. My macular degeneration doesn’t allow me to read the small print. I want a magazine to hold. But I forget. Magazines in medical offices have become forbidden fruit since COVID.

I fantasize, “In my next life, I’ll ask to be knocked out before my BP is taken.”

As readers know, folks with White Coat Hypertension — like me — need to consult with their doctor about this condition because we are more prone to heart attacks and strokes.

After my doctor’s visit, I drive home and notice heart-lined streets.

Focusing on Loveland’s valentine hearts is more fun than thinking about cardiovascular issues.

Romance is in the air. People of all ages proclaim their love on hand-painted hearts.

Loveland has other hearts, also — ones that aren’t observed on a medical scan or decorating our streets every February.

It’s the man who shovels snow off his neighbor’s sidewalk.

It’s the woman who drives her friend to church.

It’s the neighbor who drove me to Longmont when the roads were icy.

It’s the 14-year-old boy who mows several lawns in his neighborhood without charge.

In Loveland, we don’t just decorate with hearts.

Instead, we live our lives with heart.

And I’m happy to tell you, mine’s still pumping.