Last month, in December, I chose a daily art project for 2025 called The Wonder Habit ® with D. Michelle Perry. More wonder, less worry. Each day, look for one simple moment of wonder, beauty, or goodness and create art on a tiny square of paper.
I practiced for over a week, then the chest tightness I’d been randomly experiencing since November worsened. EKG and Echo were normal, but the stress test on New Year’s Eve stopped me. I nearly passed out from the pain and after nitroglycerin and oxygen, I asked if there was really something wrong or was it some sort of anxiety attack.
It was real, and they admitted me.
There’s a common saying “What you do on the first day of the year represents what you’ll do for the rest of the year.”
If true, then 2025 looked bleak. Instead of a relaxed New Year’s Day at home, I spent the day in hospital and waited for what’s called a procedure but what felt like my end.
While asleep, the doctor found three blockages in the left anterior descending artery, also known as the widowmaker, and in their place put two stents.
The following two weeks, every twinge of pain, every hard to grasp breath, every flutter in my chest added to the weighted blanket of depression.
My go-to remedy, art and writing, I resisted. I just couldn’t.
Even though family and friends supported me through the entire ordeal, it was a simple act of kindness from a complete stranger that melted the first hole in depression’s icy grip.
I called the pet groomers to ask if they’d help me get the dogs out of my car in a few days for their appointment. The lady asked if something was wrong. When I told her I’d had a heart catheterization, she simply asked, “What’s your address? I’ll pick them up.”
I wiped the hot tears from my cheeks.
Turns out the next day, they cleared me to drive and light lift, so I let Maggie at The Dawg House know she didn’t need to go out of her way.
Later, I sat down for the first time in weeks in my studio and created a moment of wonder on a tiny square of paper to commemorate the beacon of light offered in the darkness.
“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul…” — Emily Dickinson
