Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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Let’s Celebrate My Ejection Fraction!

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I’m so excited to be normal! Three years ago, an echocardiogram revealed my heart ejection fraction was registered at 30%, indicating serious heart failure. Another procedure this week revealed the ejection fraction had improved to 60%, a normal percentage. I’ve never been so happy to receive a score of 60%.

Three Years to Become Normal

I had a heart attack in June of 2021, and cardiologists at Idaho Cardiology Associates at St. Luke’s diagnosed cardiomyopathy heart disease and chronic heart failure with left bundle branch block and a reduced ejection fraction of 30 percent. I had a broken heart, but I was too weak to get my affairs in order. Survival was the only option.

After two surgeries, a defibrillator was installed beneath my collarbone. Until then, I didn’t take any medical subscriptions and suddenly I had eight pill bottles in my daily routine. I changed my diet to reduce salt and sugar, joined a gym, started walking, and canceled my writing workshops and travels. In March, I started the St. Luke’s Cardiovascular Rehabilitation Program and “graduated” in June.

Each participant wore an electronic monitor and three electrodes to trace heart activity on various exercise equipment and during weight-lifting assignments.

In addition to exercise routines three times a week, the program offered nutrition advice with menus and sample meals. Each participant met with various staff members to discuss mental and physical health. The staff, under the direction of Nurse Leigh McClure, was excellent, and the results were positive. All my lab values improved: I lowered total cholesterol from 187 to 145 and decreased the chance of having diabetes. I lost eight pounds, but I’m still chubby.

The program encouraged lifestyle changes and improvements to stabilize the progression of cardiovascular disease. (I wasn’t totally gallant because I continued to enjoy red wine.)

Ejection Fraction measures the heart’s ability to pump oxygen-rich blood. When oxygen isn’t pumped naturally throughout the body, the brain becomes confused (more than normal), climbing four steps seems like a month-long mountain excursion, and gasping for breath becomes priority. A few times, I saw my life pass before my eyes, and it wasn’t pretty. I needed to stay alive to fix a few problems.

EJECTION FRACTION

June 2021 – 30% June 2023 – 43% June 2024 – 60%
Heart Failure Low Function, Weak Heart Normal

LAB VALUES                                 August 2023                                   June 2024

*Total Cholesterol 187 145 Keep below 200
Triglycerides 136 127 Fat in blood
HDL 50 53.1 Good cholesterol
*LDL 110 67 Bad cholesterol
HbA1c% 6.4 6.2 Diabetes is above 6.5
Blood Pressure 143/85 104/64

Friends and Family Provided Therapy

Support from family and friends was additional medicine. I received encouragement from friends on Social Media as I prepared for surgery. My patient husband provided TLC at home, and my son drove me to doctor’s appointments. I tried to follow the new realities of living with cardiomyopathy, and my heart began to heal. I was grateful for three more years.

It was difficult curtailing or deleting previous activities I had enjoyed. I canceled a writing workshop last summer due to physical exhaustion, and my lack of breath caused me to relinquish a major role I had in a play this spring with the Eagle Theatre Company. Once an avid traveler, I preferred the pleasant resort on my patio. I’ve eliminated some unhealthy foods and added more fresh vegetables, but I just can’t eat tofu. It’s nasty.

My heart beat in a steady rhythm as I wrote this message. I smiled.

 

 

To the Girl at the Bus Stop

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Early one morning I followed the blinking, lumbering school bus on its routine route to pick up students. Always a people-watcher, I studied the colorful collection of boisterous Middle School students waiting at each stop. Then I saw her – the girl standing alone. She was me, more than 50 years ago.

Her disheveled brown hair was wild and frizzy, her clothes weren’t stylish, she wore big black eyeglasses, and she carried a saxophone case. I waved at her. She smiled faintly and climbed onto the bus behind the others.

A week later, I happened to follow the same bus, and I saw her again. She was sitting on her saxophone case reading a book. I wanted to shout, “I know you!” But I restrained myself, waved, and watched her board the bus. I’d like to tell her that all the things that consume this most awkward stage of life eventually won’t matter anymore.

Hair. My plain hair was wrinkly, frizzy, and brittle, and I never knew how to style it. Even now, I’ll get a sassy new do and concentrate to see how the hairdresser fixes it, but I never manage to duplicate the style. After many decades of trial and error, now I just blow it dry and hope it isn’t awful.

Clothes. Back in the 1960s, girls didn’t wear pants to school. My wardrobe consisted of five basic jumpers and long-sleeved shirts. Now, I’m semi-retired and work from home in my jeans and comfortable sweaters, and it takes a major event with a free buffet and wine bar to make me wear fancy clothes. I want the girl at the bus stop to know her fashion sense doesn’t matter.

Glasses. I was 10 when I tried on my friend’s glasses and was amazed that the distant trees had leaves. I’ve worn glasses since then. I tried contacts for several decades, but soon needed one to read and one to see distance. I settle now for my transition bi-focal eyeglasses with cute frames. It’s okay.

I saved my saxophone from 1961, but I have a new piano.

Musical instruments. In school, only nerds lugged bulky cases for musical instruments, but I’m thankful I learned how to practice and play music. In the village of Wendell, Idaho, students started band in fourth grade. I have fond memories of blasting my saxophone in the Wendell High School Pep Band, and I continue to play my piano into my sixties. It’s great therapy.

Books. I read books and have written a few in three genres. Books are lifelong friends, and they never go out of style. The stories sparked my imagination and encouraged me to explore and travel. I enjoyed reading to my children, and now I read some of the same books to my grandkids. Reading a book while perched on a cold saxophone case can lead to grand adventures.

To the girl at the bus stop, I hope you gain some self-confidence through this complicated stage of your life. I envision you in the future as you speak with conviction, play wonderful music, write a few books, and laugh with friends and lovers. If you attend your high school reunion, you’ll realize many of the past homecoming queens and head cheerleaders want to be you.

Someday you might drive behind a noisy school bus and see your younger self waiting alone. Wave to her, with profound vigor and sincere encouragement, because you both dance to the beat of a different but splendid drummer.

#amwriting, #schoolbus, #MiddleSchool,,

Can We Laugh Again Before Summer?

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Some of you are getting crabby, and it’s not a good look. My New Year’s Resolution is to laugh at least once a week until I snort liquid out my nose. It’s a noble goal.

Ages ago, well maybe last year, I presented humorous speeches and enjoyed sharing laughter with my audience. Now, I peer at little boxes of faces on a Zoom webinar workshop and try to engage positive conversation while I manage a chat room, manipulate my slides, pause to answer a question, and follow a volatile outline of useful information. Next year, I am determined to gather a few living people and tell stories. Their laughter may be muffled behind masks, but I’ll savor the eye contact and the personal connection. Can we aim for summer to once again laugh together?

I can imagine future parties where we’ll find the group of gregarious guests gathered next to the punch bowl because they have the best punch lines. The most successful events will create a positive atmosphere where you can mingle with joyful people, nosh on appetizers, toast the New Year, toast every year, toast a new Instant Pot recipe, and laugh yourself silly. The horrors and hindsight of 2020 will be banned from conversation.

(Note: This encouragement to be happy doesn’t negate the true tragedies of this year. Many people have lost loved ones, many remain in the hospital, people lost their businesses, and there is an increase in cases of depression and domestic abuse. My message is to prompt hope we can smile again in the future.)

In learning to laugh again, some women may fear bouts of boisterous laughter because guffawing makes them wet their pants. I don’t see any problems with that. By midlife we either accept that our bodies will betray and embarrass us on a daily basis, or we go live in the basement with a carton of ice cream and watch sad movies. (Been there, done that, no fun.) It takes brave risk-takers to chuckle and chortle with wild abandon.

I once caused more than 800,000 people to laugh because of my viral essay titled, “Don’t Fart During an MRI.” HuffPost Live interviewed me from New York. Now, the story follows me everywhere. Let’s return to humor, even if we need to act like children and fart out loud. You go first.

Donna Beckman Tagliaferri and Anne Bardsley enjoy serious discussion before the writing retreat.

Did you know laughter is good for your health? Studies show that regular laughing boosts your immune system, oxygenates your blood, tightens your stomach muscles (hallelujah!), and releases healthy chemicals in your brain that improve your mood. A cheerful heart really is the best medicine.

In case you’ve forgotten how to laugh, here’s a simple technique to practice in quiet solitude when your calendar is empty, and we all know it is. The exercise applies to all ages, all sexes, every ethnic category, most religions, and even some Southern Baptists:

1. Squint your eyes.
2. Pull your mouth into a tight grin
3. Make a high squeal then lower your voice and make a series of “Ha, Ha, Ha.”
4. Rock back and forth.
5. Repeat several times.

If that doesn’t make you chuckle, it certainly will amuse those around you. Next year, make it a mission to laugh several times a week and you’ll discover more people want to be around you, even on Zoom. Be the light of laughter among the growing hordes of miserable people desperately searching for a chuckle. It’s your duty and solemn responsibility to share the joy, so go forth and laugh. You’re all invited over next summer.

Granny’s Ungrateful Goat

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A Short Story by Elaine Ambrose

Granny Margarita was a jolly woman who lived in the country on a small farm. One day she decided to go to the store and buy a nanny for granny. She brought the goat home and fixed a cozy pen and scattered fresh straw for a bed. She filled a water trough and offered the goat some fresh apples.

“Baaa!” exclaimed the goat and turned her back on Granny.

Granny fixed her favorite pecan pie using her secret recipe that won a blue ribbon at the County Fair. She brought the pie on a fancy plate and gave it to the goat.

“Baaa!” exclaimed the goat and turned her back on Granny.

Granny thought the goat was bored, so she bought some roller skates and taught the goat how to skate. The goat skated for a few minutes, fell down, and then didn’t like the skates.

“Baaa!” said the goat and turned her back on Granny.

Granny wondered if the cozy pen wasn’t good enough, so she built a bigger pen and added a pond so the goat could jump in the water.

“Baaa!” said the goat and turned her back on Granny.

Granny decided she had an ungrateful goat. She took the goat to obedience school to learn how to become self-sufficient and appreciate life. The goat finished the school but preferred to sit beneath the shade of the apple tree.

Finally, Granny Margarita accepted the fact that her goat was too grumpy and was robbing her of joy. She packed her bags and moved to a community of other seasoned folks who loved to laugh, dance, and enjoy whatever songs were left to be sung.

The Ungrateful Goat sat in her pen and waited for someone to take care of her. No one came. After a few days, the goat walked into the pasture and ate grass and found a stream so she could drink water. She found a dried old apple and eagerly gobbled the wrinkled fruit. The goat was lonely but grateful.

(Illustrations are from the children’s book Gators & Taters.– Winner of 2018 “Distinguished Favorite” for Children’s Literature from the Independent Press Awards.)

Five-Fact Midlife Survival Guide

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(Published on The Huffington Post June 20, 2015.)

elaine party mask

Some of you have been around the block enough times to know where to avoid the mud and dog poop or when to stop and smell the roses. Others, however, refuse to try a better path so they continue to trip over the same obstacles. And, then there is thatgroup — the ones who stand in the street waiting for a free ride and then can’t understand why they get hit by a bus.

My spirited and splendid journey through life has taught me that the secrets to survival can be condensed to five easy paragraphs. It’s short because so is life. Besides, we can’t remember more than five things at a time.

1. Use your common sense. Spend less money than you make or you’ll become a slave to debt which leads to misery, failure and regret. Don’t go on a zip line through the jungle if you have a bladder problem because there aren’t any restrooms on those wobbly platforms. If you regularly eat an entire pecan pie with ice cream, you won’t look good naked. See how it works? Our brains have the remarkable ability to make good or bad decisions and choices. My mature brain tells me to manage money, avoid zip lines, and not come within 10 miles of a pie.

2. Keep that pie image (and who wouldn’t?) and acknowledge that input should balance output. If you consume more food than you need to survive, you should use enough energy to burn off the unnecessary calories. Get and stay healthy because life has a way of instantly whisking you from the high school prom to your 20-year reunion. And then it’s just a few hours before you’re sneaking into the store for reading glasses and incontinence supplies. Don’t wait until you’re older and lack the physical ability to skip with your grandchildren or chase your handsome hunk around the house, at different times of course.

3. Love to be in love. As the years go by, there is a profound sweetness in waking up with someone who accepts your wrinkles, thinning hair and sagging body parts, and then says, “Good morning, gorgeous.” Love your lover every day, from a passing wink to a sensual massage serenaded by Luther Vandross. A steady, exclusive relationship can turn a slow dance on the patio into a romantic encounter worthy of an evening in Paris. (Paris is always an adequate option.)

4. Bad things happen. No one gets a free pass on calamity. During your life, you probably will experience flat tires, funerals, diarrhea, lost love, fights with family, flatulence during a wedding, at least one broken bone, and the world’s worst boss. So you get up again, adjust your armor and holler that you’re ready for the next challenge. Looking back at the assorted chaos in my life, I realize there were far more splendid times than bad. And the truly amazing adventures happened after I initially failed or took a risk.

5. Attitude is everything. Positive, grateful people enjoy the best of life. By midlife, the laugh lines around their eyes reveal countless smiles through the miles, and their journey is one to emulate. Crabby, cynical worrywarts suck the energy from everyone they meet. Avoid them.

‘Dear Abby’ Pauline Phillips died a few years ago at the age of 94. Her advice columns appeared in 1,000 newspapers around the world. She wrote in her autobiography that her demanding job was not work because “It’s only work if you’d rather be doing something else.” I agree with her, and so my advice is to choose wisely, get healthy, love intensely, combat calamity, and be happy. Finally, remember that life is short. Make it sassy.

Five Reasons to Stop Whining about your Age

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cry girl birthday hat

 

My friend is moaning and groaning about turning 50. I finally got tired of her complaints and told her to pull up her control-top, big-girl panties, eat cookies, and get over it. When she continued to bemoan the fact that her gumption had no function, I asked if she would prefer to drop dead at age 49. She slumped away under a self-imposed cloud of doom.

Another friend sniveled, through dramatic tears, that she was so insignificant she could stand naked in the middle of town with her hair on fire while dollar bills flew out of her saggy butt and no one would notice. For her, age 50 was a dark symbol of declining physical and mental deterioration. I assured her I would notice the free money.

“That’s aging,” I said. “Embrace the glory, and pass the cake.”

cake

That may seem harsh, but many of us seasoned women are weary of some women’s wretched wailing about getting older. Let’s evaluate the options so we can stop the pity party and get on with a raucous celebration of life.

Reality: You’re Older. Your skin will wrinkle like a pricked balloon, boobs will drop to your waist, dot-to-dot spots will appear on your arms, hair will turn thin and gray, and you’ll wave at someone and your arm will continue to flap for five minutes. Your volatile intestines will keep you guessing if you’ll be constipated for a week or running to the bathroom every hour, and you’ll exercise regularly just to maintain the weight you don’t like. You’ll endure hot flashes, mood swings, and hairy toes and forget your keys while caring for aging parents and rambunctious grandkids.

But wait, there’s more! Here are other fun facts to anticipate: You won’t have enough energy to open your iron pill bottle, your family will count how many glasses of wine you guzzle at dinner, and they’ll mutter about your problem. Meanwhile, you’re bombarded with advertisements that scream at you to buy anti-aging products even though you’re older than some trees in the forest. Older women are the fodder for jokes about menopause, mothers-in-law, and incontinence, while crotchety, older men are revered as distinguished and successful. Get used to it.

Reality: You Can Choose to be Liberated. Consider the advantages of aging past 50. The kids are grown and moving away, so you’ll have less laundry, meal expense and preparation, and no more frantic nights waiting up for them to come home. You won’t need to purchase feminine products after your period stops. You’ll play with your delightful grandchildren and send them home. You’ll have more time to pursue hobbies and/or your lover, volunteer, travel, or read books. The hair on your legs gets lighter so you don’t need to shave every day. And, you have the power to throw away all the silly “Over the Hill” birthday cards and party favors. Being over the hill means you get to tumble down, laughing all the way.

Here are five reasons to stop whining about your age:

  1. There is nothing you can do about it. If you were born during or before 1965, you’re approaching or over 50. That’s how it works, and there are no exceptions. Unless you die.
  2. There always will be others younger and older. If you’re not the world’s oldest living person, you will know people of all ages. Share your stories, and encourage each other on your journeys. I’ve gleaned great facts from toddlers and old folks.
  3. You’re a living resource manual. You existed before the inventions of cell phones, personal computers, microwaves, social media, instant rice, and tampons. The younger generations can learn a lot from you.
  4. Others died too young. I read obituaries and have noticed that many of them describe people younger than I am. You and I got to wake up today. That’s a positive affirmation that we get another chance to save the world.
  5. Youth is overrated. Really, would you go back to your twenties or thirties? I’d love to look like I did but I don’t want to relive the challenges, heartache, worries, and exhaustion of those years. I’ll stick with being feisty over fifty.

I’m sending this message to my friend for her 50th birthday. I hope she embraces the positive message I’m trying to convey. If she continues to stay home and mope, I’ll go to the party without her and send her a souvenir.