I’ve had an Apple watch for a while, now. I made the investment originally because it includes an ECG app, which has come in quite handy numerous times over the past year-plus, as I’ve been trying to understand my arrhythmia and related issues that finally led to a diagnosis of Type II stress-induced pulmonary hypertension. It helps to rule out atrial fibrillation and provides useful data for my cardiologist.
My watch is useful, too, for tracking exercise, and keeping me aware of when I’m getting too sedentary. As I exercise, I can monitor my heart rate, which is important feedback for me as well as for both my cardiologist and pulmonologist, who have given me some guidelines for my ideal range.
All of this is good and valuable for my health. But here’s the fun part: the watch face. You can choose from a variety of styles, and my latest favorite tracks the phases of the moon throughout the month. I’ve paired this with the Hebrew calendar, which is tied to the lunar cycle, and am now more aware of why Jewish holidays arrive when they do.
The neatest part (I really do geek out on this stuff) is that the moon image on the watch changes phases with each day. As I write on Monday afternoon, it is four days before the full moon, and so the moon on my watch is waxing, with just a sliver of dark along the left edge. So, of course, now I’m comparing it to the moon in the night sky. The image on my wrist is remarkably accurate.
I’ve always found the moon to be a comfort. On a clear December night, it gleams like a diamond on black velvet. Illumined by the hidden sun, it still seems to glow from within, radiating calm. However far I travel from home, it’s right there, guarding the night. Even as it reveals itself and recedes from view over a month’s course, it is ever present, repeating its game of hide and seek over and over, throughout millennia.
So, now I carry the moon on my wrist, a reminder of the constancy of change, my own little oasis of calm in the night.
Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.
Image: Mason Kimbarovsky
Leave a Reply