The physiological cause of my debilitating respiratory distress,
breathlessness, insomnia, has been revealed. It's not Mexican flu, not
an infection of the lungs, not lung disease.

It's congestive heart failure.

About ten years ago I was diagnosed as having hyper-aldostrine. For
some reason my adrenal gland produced large amounts of a hormone which
elevated my blood pressure to dangerously high levels.

This condition was brought under control. Damage that the high blood
pressure may have caused to my heart and kidneys healed.

Then as mysteriously as the overproduction of aldostrine began, it stopped.

The doctors refused to believe that the overproduction of aldostrine
had stopped. They continued to pimp their pills, (because that's how
they roll) which caused extremely low blood pressure, which resulted
in an irregular heart beat.

I stopped taking the pills.

Then as mysteriously as it began and then stopped, it began again,
about two months ago.

My kidneys were again damaged by the high blood pressure. Fluids
accumulated around my lungs and heart, pressing against these organs,
restricting the efficiency of these organs.

When I would lie down, I would begin drowning in fluids in my chest,
not being able to breath.

I learned to sleep standing up. I grew to fear sleep.

It seemed so easy to die.

During the long sleepless hours of the night I would examine the life
that I came into, the transformation after the first crisis of health,
the first time of hyper-aldostrine.

I learn to live with a high level of dynamic uncertainty. I learn to
live with little or no certainty about where I will lay my head, how I
will subsist, what the future may or may not bring.

I learn to live in the moment with little fear or anxiety.

I come into further and greater powers of love, compassion, joy,
empathy, synchronicity and music.

I know that with the unconditional acceptance of the moment, with the
acceptance of the is-ness of death - comes more life in life.

During the long, sleepless hours of the night I had no choice but to
also contemplate mortality its own self, the diminishing and
weakening, the intermitten-ness of the eternal life force.

I am an American with no health insurance. I will not seek medical
attention until I am near death. And then I went to the magical
reality of Tahlequah, Ok. And then I went to the emergency room of the
Tahlequah City Hospital.

I was diagnosed. The fluids were drained from my chest. The high blood
pressure was stabilized.

But then I was put back on the street with no effective medications to
address the hyper-aldostrine issue.

Two days latter I was in Oklahoma City with an even higher blood pressure.

I write this in the cardiac ward of St. Anthony's (the patron saint of
lost things) Hospital in Oklahoma City.

I write this knowing that I have again side stepped death (and yet
all apparent triumphs over death are temporary maybe just fleeting
things).

I am confident that my hyper-aldostrine will be brought under control,
and that I will have at least a fighting chance to return to full,
robust health.

I write this in complete acceptance of transformation and whatever
comes in the is-ness of the moment.