A fluttering in my chest. I first noticed it six weeks ago at the end of a cold—a feeling almost like I had to cough. But it continued long after the cold: a fluttering. An extra breath.
I told my doctor at my annual exam, and she ordered a holster monitor EKG, an echocardiogram. For 24 hours, I wore a string of electrodes on my chest, bottom of my ribs, clicked a button on the holster every time I felt a fluttering. Then the echocardiogram: I watched the images move on the screen. My heart. Beating inside my chest.
Verdict: trivial mitral insufficiency. Follow-up with cardiology.
My father’s teenage brother died from a ‘heart issue’—maybe rheumatic heart fever. My father had congestive heart failure, my mother has a heart murmur. Basically, I’m in good company.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the body, how we conceive of it. How it moves through the world. How we are trapped in it. How to shift my thinking of my own body from a site of loss—pain, struggle, brokenness—to a site of. . . . well, of something else.
Bill Cunningham describes fashion as ‘armor to survive the reality of everyday life.’ Alexander McQueen also described fashion as ‘armor.’ Aimee Mullins, who worked with McQueen to create art-quality prosthetic legs, legs carved from wood, china doll legs, says, ‘I just felt differently in different legs.’ Says we should be creating prosthetics not to replace loss, not to hide disability, but as wearable art. With imagination, with artistic flair.
When I had an accident skiing in high school and had to order a specially made knee brace, I chose a bright red color. I didn’t think twice about it—it was a beautiful red. Afterward, my mother was stunned—and pleased, I think—that I went with such a loud color, a color that wouldn’t hide itself against my clothing. I could have chosen navy or brown, common pants coloring, colors that, in retrospect, would have served better to hide my newfound disability. I chose red because I found it beautiful. It shined in sunlight.
I’ve been thinking about armor for the body, what that means. I’ve been thinking about the body as something other than loss. I’ve been thinking about my new heart fluttering: mitral insufficiency. How beautiful I find those words. Even as they describe deficiency.
Planet of the Blind 