Toe in the Water

"Welcome to the 21st Century!"
That's what David posted when I caved in to peer pressure.
It took a long and boring day of doing little of nothing, and a nudge from my BFF to send me over the edge.
Encouraged by countless friends and family to "get on Facebook" I did just that, even if all I plan to do is look at the pictures.
The first gaffe was with dear friend Anita whom I "de-friended" because I forgot her maiden name and thought I had friended the "wrong Anita."
So, I'm giving it all a spin and will enjoy hearing from friends and family from the ages.

The Quest for a Sunnier Disposition

                    Some things are just The Pits. Take open heart surgery, for instance.  Praise God that there are surgeons with that talent and skill! “ Praises be!” that a major anomaly can be removed so it doesn’t kill you on the spot. All that – Amen, indeed.  But, if you have a delicate nature and a substantial fear and loathing for pain, the recovery process is The Pits.
                      All the rib bones connected to the breast bone, connected to the spine, connected to the hip bone, connected to the thigh bone – all them bones, them bones have to reposition themselves into their normal configuration.  They move and click and shift. I feel it and hear it.
                     Muscles I did not know I had and tissue that connects all “them bones, them bones” must heal, also. And that’s painful, when you move around very much. So, add in some street drugs worth about $20 a pop, and you’ve got a zombie trying to act normal.
                               Doing more than 1 thing at a time can be a stretch – such as walking and breathing.  I guess that’s the scariest thing – the breathing part.  The heart is in control of all that oxygen stuff and how it pumps through the body and coordinates with the lungs. It is a little ole fist-sized muscle in charge of the world. If it gets stressed out, I know it.  Understanding that makes you happy to buy a dust pan with a tall handle so you don’t  bend over and become subject to gravity pulling on heart, lungs, chest. Whoda-thunk-it.
                         Walking across our back yard and the neighbor’s back yard to visit with them prior to their vacation was a “goal.” I made it over, and I also made it back home. You have to think about that.  I made it out, but can I make it back? The distance is about 1 block.
                              I’ve lost weight, primarily fluid, but nothing really tastes that great, not even a Diet Coke, which I have not had since surgery. And all that fluid that drained from my body has left me in need of extra bones in my arms. Now, that is the Pits.

                    Speaking of Pits, the cherries are in!  Marvin and I harvested cherries on two afternoons.  They were perfectly ripe and the birds had not gotten to them, as they did last year.  I bought a cherry pitter but you still have to touch each one, so I just pit them by hand.  I’ve made 1 cherry pie and will probably make another, then freeze the rest of the cooked down cherries for later.

                          Keeping my perspective, I must recall the philosophy found in Mary Engelbreit’s whimsical drawings: Life is just a “chair of bowlies.”  She has another saying, also repeated by Cher to Nicholas Cage in “Moonstruck,” – “Snap out of it!”
                                   I’m gradually getting my “better attitude” in gear, switching from whiney pants to “big girl panties.”  I’m taking double my “chill-pill” on the recommendation of my doctor and my husband! There is nothing more aggravating, though, than being placated when you feel like shit.

                                 With tasks for the day to include laundry, pitting cherries, and enjoying a gorgeous day sitting on the deck and taking a stroll down the way, I’ll move forward in quest of a sunnier disposition.

Training for Mt. Kilimanjaro

             The actual ascent to the peak begins on my first day of Cardiac Rehab. Note the Cardiac disclaimer because to say “I start Rehab on May 30” may give another impression altogether.
             Tuesday was my follow-up appointment with Dr. Garrett, the magic surgeon.

The nurses assured me that my mood-swings were “normal” and that all the little nuances of general discomfort, lack of stamina, shortness of breath upon exertion, and borderline insanity are perfectly normal at this juncture, considering the type surgery which was terrifically successful.
              Prior to the appointment, we had a soup and salad lunch with David at Olive Garden. I love that he is allowing his hair to grow out. In the sun it will have those incredible blond highlights that I have to pay for.
            After Dr Garrett released me to the cardiologist in Jonesboro, we went out to Renee’s new house in Arlington where the men in the family floored a portion of their attic.  Aubrey was in fine form and we girls played and talked while the men worked. A portion of their electricity was knocked out by the storms and torrential rain that came through Memphis.  By 7PM, we headed for home.  I wanted nothing but some food (even a McD’s fish sandwich) and my bed. I’d been up all day doing something even if it was walking and breathing and talking, with no nap.
              Today, I drove to the Post Office and the grocery store. At the PO, the postmaster and I visited a few minutes. It was great to get out and nice to drive, but by the time I got home, I took to the chair, feet up.  Weight-lifting (gallon of milk and rainbow sherbet) and endurance training (pushing grocery cart up and down 5 or 6 aisles) will wear a girl out.  I went to the store primarily for strawberries, which I bought, washed, capped, and prepared for dessert for tonight. Even my fingers are tired.

                Mt. Kilimanjaro looms large, but I think the daily training will speed my recovery time.

Pet Rock, Almond Croissant, and a Barbie Car

             Drugs – nothing like having them when needed, but as dear friends know, “I don’t do well with drugs.”  The standard is that I’m either sick as a dog, dead-to-the-world asleep, or the entertainment and floor-show- just short of table dancing.  So, when I say that I went a whole day with no pain killer drugs, that’s a great thing. I do take one at night when I can do little damage and sleep like a “pet rock.”
           Having the new tile shower has been marvelous, though it is still quite the accomplishment to prepare for bed.  2 sets of towels, preparation before and concluding ceremonies before bed, as regards the various vampire bites and other surgical incisions.  In addition to the “fine lines and wrinkles” I combat morning and night, there is proper procedure for minimizing scars.  I’m sure there’s a cream (or app) for that, when I get the go-ahead signal.
          There is a “husband’s waiting room” over at Lowe’s in Paragould, for use while wives get beautified down the street.  Ha.  Marvin drove me for my hair trim and then did his errands at Lowe’s.  When we got home, a couple of friends came by.  Visitors!  Yipee! Both bearing goodies – loaded chicken noodle soup and an almond cream cheese coffee cake that should be outlawed for maxing the “deliciousness scale.” The coffee cake reminds me of the Almond Croissants at LaBaguette.
              Things around here are looking up. We are going to WalMart this afternoon for groceries.  I told Marvin I could drive one of the motorized handicapped carts.  No-way, he said.  You’re too young and cute for that.  We’ll see if they have a Barbie Car for you!  HAHA.
                My check-up is Tuesday, May 21 with Dr. Garrett! I'm to be released to the cardiologist in Jonesboro for follow-up and cardiac rehab. I'm looking forward to that, as long as the therapists are not related to Nurse Ratchet.
              We (the "royal we") are making plans for cleaning out and possibly expanding the fish pond, upgrading and repairing the deck, and opening the pool.  God is so very good!

The Heart: It's All or Nothing

Thomas joked, “Do you even remember me being there?”
“Of course, I do. You and Lois were there.  I just don’t remember the “hurt all over” part.
"I told you it would be like this."
“It’s true, though. It’s a beat-up feeling, and I try to keep pain meds to 1 AM and 1PM, to ease the all-shook-up feeling and the generally uncomfortable status.”
                       Today, I walked ¾ around the house and took photos of beautiful iris.  After a bit of a respite on the front porch, I walked on to the post office.  Ha!  Not really – the Mail Box.  From there I retrieved several pretty cards wishing me a speedy recovery.

                           Heart surgery has become rather common-place, it seems, except when you’re the one having it.  The roller-coaster of emotions is probably due to all the manipulations and the trauma the heart goes through. I am so grateful to have had such a marvelous surgeon, able to fix me and set me on the path to years of excellent health. This miracle-man surgeon had never seen a myxoma this large, but he and his team removed it and fixed me right up. 

    A Myxoma in and of itself is rare, but sometimes babies present these tumors which are snipped away while baby is still in the womb.

  For an older person, the rush to surgery is because these large things flip and flop within the heart and can get positioned in such a way as to cut off heart function and air and can cause sudden death. Large ones have been there quite a while, having grown for many years and they can have pieces break off and fly to the brain, the eyes, and other places, causing a stroke.
      From cases I have read, like mine, the myxoma did not produce a great number of symptoms prior to the Big Event. Most patients were in good shape, having no blockages, and not being in poor health at all.  Most diagnoses it seems are surprises and the symptoms recognized as mild until they are extreme, and attributable to other causes, and thus left alone.
 The heart is fickle and desires your constant and close attention.  It is the "all or nothing" muscle.

Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day - even in Australia

Just take the Pain Meds, Darn it, Jane. 
                  Friends know I don’t do well on meds, but have you seen me without them when I need them. That’s worse. While I rarely go “halfsies” on a dessert, I’d best go that portion on meds.  “Loopy” and “Entertaining” would be two descriptors for the result of a regular dose.

                      A charter member of the Wimp and Proud of It club, I’ve been caught in a quandary.  Doing more…but not pushing.  Fine line.  Step over it and you’ll pay, especially if you are trying to forego pain meds.
                        Not a sharp or stabbing pain, but a general discomfort, is the pain level I’d describe: bruised and banged up feeling, not around incisions.  Stitches itch and pull.  I’ve been doing my breathing treatments and have good capacity, but my ribs area is really sore, especially on the right. In fact, imagine being run over by a garbage truck.
                       Called the doc last night and he said it sounded pretty typical. That made me whine. 2-3 months of aggravating pain and general discomfort, all the while trying to get some fresh air and walk a bit. Jane, put on your big girl panties and Snap Out of It.
                      I’ll see Dr. Garrett in 2 weeks.  He has me on BP meds to keep those numbers low while the healing takes place.  Low BP makes one sluggish.  Pain meds complicate potty routines, so that’s another “sluggish” function.  While my psyche is designed to be pampered, there is a real desire to help, which gets me into trouble. I’m exhausted from carrying a “load” of lingerie to the bedroom.
                     

    Many acquaintances are survivors of open heart surgery and they are walking around having great lives.  I intend to do the same. And, as posted lately, I have only this surgery to contend with, and Hallelujah, I know I will come out on top!

Your Body's "Silent Scream"

Rather than use Lemon Pie to give details of the ordeal of the past 2 weeks, I will share a few immediate insights:
1.       God is always in control and will show a straight path for you to follow. Never doubt that for a moment.
2.       Stay in good physical shape, no matter what.  Then, when your body is in “silent scream” mode, you won’t think, “Hey, I’m just out of shape.”
3.      Don’t ignore your body’s love-language. Ignored symptoms from “super-woman:” 1.  Lung capacity. I’ve always been an excellent swimmer, but last summer I had no ability to swim the length of the pool. Never gained it. 2. Shortness of breath on a 1 mile puppy-walk, previously an easy spin.  Picture an Olympic athlete at the end of a marathon race with hands above head, willing air into exhausted lungs.  This should not happen at 1 mile, doggie-walking pace. 3.  Swollen ankles.  Never graced with slender ankles, I believed fat ankles had been inherited.  Nope.  Should not indent when pressed with fingertips.
4.      Oncology specialists focus exclusively on their specialty areas, and glad I am of it. They should not be held accountable for swollen ankles. Our healthy eating campaign and walking routine of the previous year gave me great results. Echocardiograms are the Beast and if you’ve never had one, consider asking your doc about it, especially with family history. Get a good Internal Medicine doctor in addition to any specialist.  We were on the list for consultation, but had not had too much response. This delay – was that God, also?  I think so, as in all things. 
5.      If you’ve never been a “hypochondriac” you won’t suddenly be one by going to the doctor. Know how to say, “This is important,” with emphasis and make that appointment.  Then, keep it.  You are important.