Beethoven

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I was housecleaning this morning. As usual, I was listening to Performance Today.

They announced Beethoven's 5th. I cranked the volume.

You can keep the 1st movement. Oh, I know, it's probably his most famous piece of music. Everybody's heard it, if they've watched a Warner Brothers cartoon or heard a car commercial. Maybe that's why I'm resistant to it: it's necessarily corny, with its over use by pop culture. I don't know.

I know the 1st movement is Death, knocking on the door. It's supposed to be cold, ominous and scary. It is, when I can get past my over hearing of it.

I sing along with Beethoven. I know that's ridiculous, but I love to sing Beethoven symphonies.

Beethoven is perfect for housecleaning. My mind is full of thinking, my voice is full of singing and my body is full of energy.

My favorite movement is the last. It's about victory over death. It absolutely radiates joy, power, courage and awe of life. I sing and weep and sing.

Well, I was putting away crafts materials and singing my head off.

I got a terrible chest pain.

Yes, it was on the left side.

I have a very sore left arm. My shoulder is so badly damaged, from child abuse and from a car accident, that I can't use my left arm much. Sometimes, just the weight of that arm puts too much pressure on the shoulder. I overuse my right arm, to compensate for the left. But I protect it.

Now, I don't know if it's sitting at the desk at KUNM that put pressure on my back. I don't know if it's pushing my cart. I don't know if my weight lifting has put a strain on underused back muscles on my left side.

But this pain clenched my back, chest, arm and shoulder and clung like a predator's bite.

I couldn't breathe deeply. But I kept singing.

At first, I was terrified I might be having a heart attack. My mind raced: how would I get outside? I can't plug in my phone! What will I do?

So, I stood in my livingroom and waited.

Miss Thing, my grey point Siamese cat, was "helping" me. When I stopped, she stopped ripping and racing and just stood at my feet, looking up at me, curious.

I looked around my house. I looked at how beautiful, cheerful and life-affirming were the things in my home. I looked at Mugwart, my 15 year old tuxedo cat, blinking sleepily on his cat bed. I looked at Porkchop, sticking his head around the corner from the hallway, swaying to the wagging of his tail.

And I listened to the music.

And it didn't matter any more. If I were going to die right then, it would be alright.

Oh, there's a lot of unfinished business. And I worry for the fates of my animals.

But if I were going to have a heart attack, right at that moment, it would be ok.

Because I was at my happiest, my most content and my most aware. I was full of hope and joy and pleasure at being alive.

The pain is passing. My left side is still very tender and it's still uncomfortable to breathe deeply.

So, I'm resting from my work for awhile.

But I plan to hold on to that memory. I want it for when I do die. I want to remember how I felt, standing alone with my animals, in my happy house, as the tones of a long-dead, deaf genius coursed through my body and told me his passion for life.

I will probably die alone, or in the presence of people who won't support me. I've known that for many years now. And I've been preparing myself for it.

Today was a real gift.

I can't imagine my life without Beethoven and his kind!