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I KNOW I PROMISED NO MORE HEALTH UPDATES, BUT I LIED.
In my last post I know I promised that health issues would be verboten in the future. I lied. While that was my goal, things took another turn in the Days Of Sarah’s Health.
I was having difficulty regulating my blood pressure, experiencing vertigo, and having a rapid pulse among a variety of other symptoms. After innumerable visits to the doctor it was decided I had POT Syndrome. Let there be no remarks from the peanut gallery regarding the name, please. I have already drawn all of the conclusions there are to draw without any help whatsoever.
Settling on that diagnosis, the doctors then decided that perhaps a CT scan of the brain would eliminate that one in a million chance there was a brain tumor. Well, no brain tumor, however…as was explained to me, an incidental diagnosis determined I had an aneurysm. One of those pesky precursors to a stroke that those of my age start to have nightmares about. It is a subdural cranial aneurysm that is 7mm in size. That’s not a great size. Why? Well, 7mm is on the cusp of doing something about it or letting it go and monitoring it. More CT scans, MRIs and doctor visits led to an appointment at Abbot Northwestern for a Cerebral Angiography.
I have been fairly paralyzed by this for about a week. Then slowly I have come to grips with it and have an abiding belief that everything will be FINE! That “FINE!” is to pronounced with the longest “F” sound possible.
So, my appointment is on the 11th. The goal was to get all of this in before the end of the year since I have hit my max out of pocket expenses for the year and after the first I will be on Medicare. So, that should explain my absence except for the occasional inappropriate comment or political rant.
AND THE WHEEL GOES ROUND AND ROUND…
The truth is that life is like the dragon Ouroboros, and the wheel goes round and round.
It certainly does. I have been on the road to recovery for so long that it’s like I had no life before this. I know that’s not true, I just like being dramatic as often as I can. I am actually doing well. Had a few bumps with blood pressure issues (low, can you believe it?) and they are hopefully resolved by now. I don’t have the energy I would like and can’t wait for the physical therapy to put me back into prime shape. The thing that amazes me the most is that I am 66 with a 45-year-old mind. My daughter is 45 and I ask myself over and over, “How can we be the same age.”
The thing I need to focus on is setting up a schedule for a non-worker person. Procrastination coupled with my ADHD leads to some interesting scenarios around the house. The kind of scenario where I have to keep everything in the house on somewhat of an even keel and yet fail miserably. I have far too many books on organizing and if I had set that organization in place, I could find them.
Sam the Dog has become my constant companion. Following me from room to room as if I had the treats in my pocket and would just spontaneously give him one. Moo the Cat has been on a diet and has lost some weight but you would think we were starving him by the plaintive wails he emits by his food dish. The birds have discovered the bird feeder I put out last summer and now that it is fall are hitting regularly. This makes for Moo TV as he lies in the window just waiting for the opportunity to bang his head on the window when he sees a bird. I am going to have to find a more accessible spot for the winter since shoveling for a bird feeder is a little ludicrous.
I find that I work in spurts. There is so much to do that I can never see an end. Bottom line, we need a house that is three times the size of this for all of our treasures. Or, crap as some are sure to say. I have started winnowing the extras out. It meant I had let go of the worrying about the future when someday I might need it. I gave my giant slow cooker to beautiful daughter and lo and behold I thought I need it. Oh, but wait, don’t I have at least two dutch ovens that would cook enough pot roast for a family of 16. It came out great even if it was cooked in a traditional way.
This is the last post about health issues that I will write. Even I have of it.
I’M GLAD IT’S TODAY
Yesterday was a doozy. I was having a day and filled it with as much self-pity, pissing and moaning and hand wringing as I could muster. I filled every dramatic skill in my repertoire of . Pity party par excellence–and the award goes to…
A lot of it had to do with health issues and that turned out as a kick in the butt to get my energy into a more positive vein. I was so frustrated I hit the internet with a vengeance and ended up finding a lot of information that I needed to know a year ago. So, I suppose there i was a purpose in that whiny interlude.
Other than that, things are going well. As my energy level increases I look forward to doing more and more. When taking a shower and washing one’s hair becomes a giant step worthy of noting as an accomplishment, well, I just have to take it and run with it. (The sound of the crowd is overwhelming you right about now.)
Each day I am more and more grateful for the my family and friends. All of you have kept me on the road to recovery in the best possible way and have helped me accomplish as much as I have. I may piss and moan yet, I know my life is a walk in the park compared to some.
And, just to help me keep track of my very own reality…Piglet shows me the way.
SHE’S BACK!!!
Dear Friends and Loved Ones:
I know it has been a while since my presence was felt on the interweb, but I am here to put an end to it. If you want the short version here it is: I am well on my way to recovery and will be back to full strength soon.
For the stronger of heart and those who are dying for the details, read on.
The surgery I had on August 9th was to restore my body back to somewhat normal operation. Didn’t happen. All of you know that it wouldn’t be a medical episode unless somewhere along the line someone says, “It was the worst I had ever seen.” That’s what happened this time. Again. The takedown process on the ileostomy wasn’t possible. There was about a foot of my large intestines that had not been getting the blood supply that it needed to stay alive and as a direct result, it died. So, I will have an ostomy forever and will make poop jokes as often as I can. I am not freaked by it, it has basically been an “It is what it is” experience.
The reason I have not been discussing it before now came about because of the complications after the surgery. My adrenal glands failed and I ended up in Intensive Care for three days. Luckily I don’t remember this at all except for the part where they tied my hands to the bed rails because I wanted to pull the NG tube out. They were smart to not believe me because I was fibbing and we all knew it.
I ended up back on the floor pumped full of steroids with a body that resembled the Michelin tire mascot and with a bit more time than we expected in the hospital. I know, “Hard to believe.” For those interested in what I call the “I’ve never seen this before!” Nurse Award I will tell you that when they gave me the medicine to get all the fluid out of my body I ended up with 7 liters of pee pee (urine) bloating my pee pee bag and causing a general round of gasps on the floor.
It has taken until today for me to feel like venturing out of my self-imposed recovery and perspective adjustment period and I will definitely be back raising hell at full throttle within a day or so. Thanks for all of your support and understanding. I am sure that it was and will continue as a source of healing for me.
NOT THE BEST NEWS, BUT NOT THE WORST, EITHER.
4:30 AM starts the day off, or finishes the night off as I fell asleep around 3:15. And, oh, how i would have loved to pull that blanket over my head and pretend I was Grace Jones for just a few more minutes. After all I don’t have to be at the hospital until 7:30. And that would have been fine except the Monk in me kicked in. If I have to be at the hospital at 7:30 and a shower and face fix and hair comb only take an hour, theoretically, I could go back to bed until 6AM. Fat chance!
There I was, having completed all the assigned tasks as assigned to myself for being presentable at the hospital. Well, except one. I think I am going to take a survey of how many people can successfully give them selves a fleet enema at 5 in the damned morning with the sun coming up and the birds twittering a song which I swear is “Na na na na noo noo.” Finally I decide, they’ve put up with a lot worse than someone showing up without giving themselves the prescribed torture prep.
There I am, bright and shiny, at 7:30 just waiting. And waiting quite calmly due to the effects of ATAVAN. When I say that I add a flourish so that is comes out A-A-TA-V-A-A-AN. This makes it sound to me like I am calling for butthole M-A-A-AN. you know kind of like Super Dog, Mighty Man, WONDER WOMA-A-A-N. Kinda like my own personal super pill.
When I say “Drugs are our Friends,” I mean it. I am too damned old to be trying to toughen up and take it like a, a what, an idiot. No thanks, pass that Atavan and keep it coming. It makes the fact the first x-ray machine was broken and after thrashing around for half an hour while the machine was manipulated needlessly because the DAMN THING WAS BROKE. It’s not one of those things you kick and go, “Yep, I think tha’s going to do it.”
Hey, here’s an idea, let’s take this cranky old lady who has been suffering by being confined to this rock hard surface and try and delicately move her onto a rolling torture vehicle to another room where the second machine will surely work. Glory be, it does. The drawback to this room is the unnatural twist to my head as I view the x-ray in progress. Now, I’m not a doctor, but I could immediately see the situation had not improved, and in fact had worsened. That was when SHIT, FU*K started bouncing off the walls in this small , metal enclosure. I only said it twice. I thought it another 145 times.
That parts over and it’s time to see my wonderful Doc who is going to tell me what I already know. Starting semi over. Removing some more of the large intestines, rehooking the two ends back up and waiting three months to see if it works this time. This all started a year and a week ago. It kind of reminds be of groundhog day…or the song: Here We Go Again…So around the middle August I will be layed out on a stainless steel table with masked avengers hovering around me looking forward to digging into an abdominal cavity that has seen better days.
And me, well, I’ll read, try not to get caught up in Candy Crush again, sneak as much chocolate into my diet as I can, followed by cheesecake and let out one of my little snorts which translate to, “So, what else is ne?”
The real bummer. My best friends are getting married on August 23 after living together in sin for over 25 years. I thank them for the effort and energy they have expended in their lives together to reach this point. Way to go…best wishes, mazel tov and don’t let the bastards get you down.
MY NEW TOY (GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER)
I have managed to put on all the weight that I lost during my medical hurdles last year. That is due to my lack of willpower, lemon pound cakes and avoiding exercise. Hard to believe that would allow 30 pounds to jump on my ass in a mere 6 months. Well, believe it.
I am paying the greatest price for having smoked for 42 years with the big Emphysema. That means that exercise is fairly low impact and basically consists of walking. On flat surfaces. I can see myself as that person prancing around the mall at 7AM. As if I would get up at that time to walk, much less at the mall. But, that is probably the answer. I will have to walk alone since walking and talking are not compatible now. Maybe when I get more in shape and lose some weight that will change, but being the huffer (not heifer) and puffer that I am I am just going to walk against the clock, head down and hoping no one recognizes me.
I have already lost five pounds. I give the credit to my new toy. I have only made a few major errors with it. Finding out that kale is cruciferous, along with my other favorite vegetables was a real drag. Discovering that I would prefer to eat a raw carrot than drink one was a pure joy.
I don’t think I could eat a banana, a cup of raspberries, an orange, almond milk and yogurt for breakfast, but I can sure drink it. Having this be a basis for two meals with no real carbohydrates or added sugar is a real bonus. I have to grind my flax seed and add it along with protein power to round this all out to bonus levels of energy.
I don’t recommend this as the only juicing machine out there, I am sure there are many that are just as good, all I can really say is this one is amazing. So amazing I got one for my daughter who is now making smoothies for herself and her family.
Now to move on to the exercise stage of this venture. Does walking to and from the refrigerator count?
WHATEVER WAS I THINKING? 