February 2010
Jazz musician Joel DiBartolo has kept high-profile company by playing for 18 years on the Johnny Carson show and by suffering from the same heart condition as Regis Philbin and David Letterman. Out of the blue in 1995, a heart attack struck DiBartolo in Prescott. They called it a ‘widow maker’ for its drastic and lasting effect. Except the jazz pro lived.
No follow-up care was offered, and he resumed his musical life, teaching and performing. Thirteen years later, DiBartolo felt disturbingly short of breath and headed to Flagstaff Medical Center. A diagnostic exam revealed blockages so great he was admitted for surgery. Continue reading “The Heart: A User’s Guide”
For gym rats, January is the worst month. Not because skating on parking lot ice terrifies more than tones or because working off stuffing leaves them winded. No, the month is bitter because New Year Resolution Reformers crowd fitness centers. Still, regulars realize that come February, Reformers will have given up and given them back the sweaty space. 
Steven Kalas went to the wilderness because he was feeling alone. Life is nothing if not ironic. He was hardly alone as a single father with three children, a psychology practice and a newspaper column. “Alone,” he journaled of his trip, “is a very ordinary experience. But for most of my life, when aloneness came to visit, I would promptly vacate the premises. I was, and still can be, the master of distraction when it comes to the deeper work of being human. But this weekend, I went camping. And I invited Aloneness to come camping with me.” 
The gravel driveway leading to Valerie Hannemann’s home and office in the woods passes a horse pen. The licensed psychologist and Northern Arizona University professor, dressed in boots and jeans with a red and white checkered shirt, stands within the fenced area, calling one of her three horses. The spirited animal comes close and shoots off again. 
The participants arrive at Thorpe Community and Senior Center, ready for action. Bins of equipment stand ready to offer each person maximum benefit in a yoga workout. Good wishes and grins greet Iyengar Hatha Yoga Instructor Melinda DeBoer-Ayrey as her students spread out around the room. “You have enough space there?” they ask one another and joke as they set up.
group has the gusto to pull off a challenging exercise routine in any setting. Except this isn’t just any setting. And this isn’t any group of yoga enthusiasts. This is Melinda’s Stretch & Laugh Chair Yoga class. Three of the five members that day manage with some degree of wheelchair assistance. None has any hesitation to participate. It’s an attitude that propels them through their tough days. 
Sarah held a raisin and explored it with her nose, eyes and hands before putting it in her mouth. There, she noted the fruit’s lumpy shape before chewing through its firm skin to the fleshier inside. Finally, she swallowed it, reflecting on the sweet taste. “It sounds simple enough when you describe it (the class exercise), but each member of the group agreed that we’d never experienced anything quite like it,” she assured me. This was practice in Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR). 
Oh, my aching sacroiliac. My back’s SI joint had been shooting pain through my most basic motions: sitting, standing and sleeping. Like most people, I made a doctor’s appointment. The physician only took care of backs and wouldn’t even glance at my sore knee. “Might they be related?” I asked. After an evaluation, an MRI and physical therapy, I was released, and I guess, pronounced well. Except, I wasn’t. To pursue it further, I needed a pain management specialist. The tests said all my healthy individual parts should be working, so why the twinge? 
A couple took their fourteen-month old son to an animal fair where the little boy especially enjoyed the snuffling pigs. A week later, the family walked by that same area with their son in his stroller. He began pushing at his nose—the sign for a pig. The parents looked at each with wonder. The pigs were long gone, but their son remembered them.