Cardiac Centre of Texas…

I decided to make this summer count instead of simply melting .

I’ve already written about the crowns and implant I had done at my favourite dentist.

The next port of call was to the Cardiac Centre of Texas where I met the most delightful doctor, clad in full Muslim attire with a mask so all I could see were her sparkling eyes and flawless hands.  She affirmed that some veins in my leg, just one leg, could do with being treated and explained two procedures to me handing over supporting documentation for both.

I went home to talk things over with Hubs and decided that I would at least return to have a sonogram on my legs to see how the veins were holding up.

Back I went the following week and the technician, also a woman, was charming.  She talked about what she was seeing on the screen and told me how unusual it was to see only one leg affected, my right leg.  I told her I was a dancer who had favoured my right side and she agreed with me that probably that leg had suffered a trauma of sorts.  The other leg was flawless.

Next step was the surgery.

I made my appointment for the following week, no long wait times, and drew a long, deep breath.

On the day of the procedure I had Hubs drive me, who, incidentally, had got grass or dirt in his right eye which, despite going for our annual check up at the optician the previous day, had not fully managed to rid his eye of the foreign speck.

Fifteen minutes before appointment time I took one of Hubs’ valium and ‘floated’ the rest of the way to the Cardiac Centre.


I really can’t report much discomfort,

I heard Dr. Ashram say, “You have a high tolerance to pain.”

I asked, “Is there much blood?”

“No,” she answered and I propped myself up and looked down at my leg and saw lots of bloody gauze… not much I thought as I laid myself back down.

When she was finished her aide put a bandage on the length of my leg and hauled on a compression stocking and I was ready to go!

Hubs was waiting for me in the waiting room.

“You’ll have to drive…” he said as we walked down the hall.

“I can’t, I’ve had a valium and they told me not to drive.”

“Well, I’ve had my eye dilated and I can’t see a thing.”

“OK I’ll be fine,” I said full of valium confidence and off we went.

Hubs sitting nervously next to me – his right eye looking painfully red – keeping me out of the fields if I started to wander…just a little.

I was confidently tootling along at about 25 miles an hour.

Had we been stopped the officer would have been greeted by a happily smiling, self-assured, high–as-a-kite driver sitting next to her bloodshot side-kick who, at first glance, may also have been high-as-a-kite.

But we weren’t stopped and once home I was very aware of the effects of valium on my body.  I was energised to a greater degree than usual and tackled several things at once.

I made a cake…I blithely used almond flour mixed with white to make an Italian Wedding Cake because my oldest son was coming in from California and lunch was planned for the next day.  All of my children eat healthy so I try to make their childhood favourites as vegan, vegetarian, gluten or dairy free as possible.

Italian Wedding Cake is a favourite.

While I waited for it to cook I got the munchies.

My children laughed knowingly when they heard.

“Did you eat everything in sight?” they wanted to know.

“Not only that,” I said, “I went for a walk, cleaned the house and did laundry!

Valium didn’t calm me down a bit it invigorated me and had me bouncing from one task to another wearing Hubs out who only wanted to lie on the couch and rest.

“Lift up your legs, let me plump that pillow!”

The cakes looked perfect when I pulled them out of the oven.  I let them cool while I chomped on nuts and some chocolate covered coffee beans I’d found in the back of the pantry where I’d probably hidden them from temptation.

After a tortilla with cheese and marmite I went to turn them out.  They were so soft they fell apart but I did manage to get them in a stack with wax paper in between and pop a cake cover over the top.

I knew, even in my heightened optimistic state,  that there was no way I’d be able to sandwich them together with jam and ice them without the whole cake falling apart.

I had to get creative.

The following day, when my valium-induced-euphoria had subsided I reached for my trusty trifle bowl to add support for the crumby, moist cake.

The result was impressive and delicious.

Voila!  Strawberries and cream amid a luxuriant Italian Wedding Cake!


Down to earth me saved the day and left me thankful that I don’t need to take medication on a daily basis to keep my nerves at bay.

I think I’d eat myself out of house and home!


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