A little knowledge is dangerous, don't you think?

I had an echocardiogram the other day. First time ever. I  requested that a copy of the results be mailed to me, and since nothing arrived in the mail I even called twice to request a copy yet again. Still no results arrived.

Fast forward to Monday, several days later, when I get a telephone call. Some girl in the doctor's office tells me that I have to see a cardiologist as my mitral valve has moderate regurgitation and my tricuspid valve has mild regurgitation. The valves are not working properly and there is a backflow of blood into the heart.

Yikes and double yikes!

I immediately have several questions, but she cuts me off and sets up an appointment with a cardiologist for Friday of the same week.

The rest of Monday, the whole of Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday I research and research heart valve disease. Apparently, a heart murmur is an important indication of having a leaky valve. But, nobody has ever told me that I have a heart murmur!

Apparently moderate regurgitation is quite serious. A lot depends on how the heart responds. It could become enlarged, and you can go into heart failure. As the disease progresses you could end up needing a repair of the valve. And that would entail open heart surgery!  I read about minimally invasive valve repair surgery and even research the best cardiologists. I wonder about the size of my heart, about my lungs, about possible calcifications as so many complications and conditions can be involved with mitral valve regurgitation, when the valve does not close properly.

Friday arrives and I meet with a cardiologist to hear the worst.

Guess what? The cardiologist asks me why I had the echocardiogram. Good question. My doctor ordered it because I have high blood pressure and high blood pressure can affect the heart. The cardiologist listens to my heart with his stethoscope then calmly looks at me and states, "I disagree with the echocardiogram. There's nothing wrong with your heart."

I literally jumped up, thanked the cardiologist, and walked briskly away feeling relief beyond relief.

Flowers and the Homosapien, Niagara on the Lake, Ontario

Decided to make a trip to Niagara on the Lake, Ontario. We've been going there for around 25 years now. Each time we arrive it's like a breath of fresh air. Why's that?  Because of all the beautiful flowers! Whoever the gardener is, he or she, does a splendid job.

You can't help but take pretty photos!  Even on a cloudy day, the flowers simply leap out at you with their vibrant colours.

There's a great variety of displays all along the main thoroughfare. They remind me of all the people you see here in Niagara on the Lake and Niagara Falls. So many different nationalities, different languages can be seen and heard as you stroll along admiring the flowers.

Wouldn't it be terrific if all of us, regardless of nationality or language, could get along without going to war, without torturing others?  Wouldn't it be for the best if all of us, throughout the world put on a display of empathy and compassion as beautiful as the flowers in Niagara on the Lake? Together, we could make the homo sapien something to be finally respected

So you think you know the Suburbs?

Who's Bored? Are you?

Is Your Privacy Private?

I never used to think much about my privacy. In the 'old' days here in the suburbs, hairdressers would ask all sort of questions.

"You're not from around here, are you?" If they weren't chewing gum, they'd be licking their lips and looking at themselves in the mirror, hand on hip as if posing for a magazine cover.

Before I could answer, they'd add, "Are you married, or anything?"

I would nod my head as best I could  while they'd be pushing it down deep into my chest as they chopped away at my hair.

"Where did you meet your husband? Where does he work?" The questions were endless, and at times I felt as if the whole salon were listening with bated breath as the hairdresser extricated the intriguing details of my life.

Sometimes I thought I would make up stories. Maybe even allude to the fact that I'm a spy or an eccentric millionaire. But I never did. I always told the truth.

In the 'new' days, there are so many more issues of privacy that have to be reckoned with.

You give your credit card number over the phone and the person at the other end repeats out loud every number. Who can hear her? Who else is there? Dunno.  Similar things happen when you check in at a doctor's office or pick up a prescription at the local pharmacy.

"Date of birth?" The person with the large glasses gazing at a computer screen doesn't even look at you as she asks this personal question. You speak softly so that people nearby don't hear.  Heck, one's date of birth is a security question at many online accounts.  Do you REALLY want to broadcast your date of birth? Since the person with the large glasses gazing at a computer screen seems to be hard of hearing she asks you to repeat your date of birth. You look around to see if anyone is paying attention and then raise your voice a teeny bit, just to be on the safe side. Then, you just know what happens. She repeats your date of birth in this huge sonorous voice as she enters the information into the computer.

What about those so-called social websites where you're supposed to list the names of schools you attended?  The name of your high school is a security question online sites asks for. Then, there are the internet groups which discuss the good old days when you were a child. They post photos of the area you come from. Oh, you lived on such and such a street as a child?  Really? Me too. Maybe you knew my grannie?  Oops. The name of the street you grew up on is yet another security question that online banks often ask.

With knowledge of your credit card number, your date of birth, the name of your high school, and the street you grew up on anyone with nefarious expectations can quite possibly enjoy surfing through your bank accounts.

But, nobody would really do that, would they? Dunno. They could, if they wanted to.