Instead of the usual burning ritual, this year's greeting of the new year will consist of quiet meditation against fear, gratitude, prayer and a focus on hope.
As I write this I am sitting, and feeling quite fatigued, in an ICU room as my honey lies in a hospital bed hoping that modern medicine can help heal his damaged lungs. He came down with the flu just over two weeks ago, which turned into pneumonia and is now Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome (ARDS). He has been intubated since Christmas night. There is no prognosis.
I am quite frightened; sometimes the fear is more evident than others. I sit vigil and hope that tonight's nurse is not so intimidated and irritated by me that she doesn't miss a crucial clue that will pull him away from the path of healing. I watch my friend Andrea keep Joe centered as she sits with him calming his occasional leg thrashing, her husband Kevin at my side ready to hold my hand and nod as I share yet another story related to our trauma. I feel so much gratitude to these two, and the dozens of family and friends who have stepped forward to offer support. The gratitude is so big that it grows closer and closer to guilt. How can we possibly be worthy of what we have received and will receive?
Despite the above remark about tonight's nurse, I have been quite pleased with the level of care that we have encountered here. The attention to detail, communication and level of professionalism is the highest I have ever experienced. Given my usually negative attitude towards western medicine, this is high praise.
In the twenty-four years that we have been married, we have only spent one midnight apart. It was a foolish and misguided choice that created a short, temporary distance one New Year's Eve; one that I am loath to repeat. So despite the fact that I didn't manage to get a nap in today, I am here with him tonight watching the clock move closer to midnight and 2014. I am here with him, even if he is not necessarily aware of it.
Last New Year's Even found us in our usual spot: on our back porch with the fire pit writing on pieces of wood about those things we wanted to burn away, then writing about those things we wanted to manifest in the new year. Burning out the old, burning in the new. It's a spare-the-air day tonight anyway, so we couldn't burn even if we were home.
I will likely try to find a substitute ritual tomorrow, but in the meantime, the focus is on hope and recovery. Love and support. New beginnings and
changes.
Happy New Year.
Lake Mendocino
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Annoyance
I was originally going to title this post "Heartbeat," since it was a palpitating heart that led me to the doctor's office, then the ER, then an overnight stay in the hospital. But the over-riding emotion that I carried during the entire ordeal was annoyance, hence the new title.
You know that quick fluttering that you feel in your heart sometimes? You are sitting quietly or driving and suddenly you can feel your heart beating; it feels fast and loud, like it is trying to make its presence known. Then it returns to normal; the whole episode comes and goes so quickly that it barely registers because you have already moved onto the next thought. Heart Palpitations are listed as common symptoms of peri-menopause, anxiety, or a reaction to caffeine, so when they occur, I don't usually think anything of them.
Two weeks ago I was sitting at my desk in my home office prepping for classes. It was a Tuesday, my long day. I begin my teaching day on the campus five minutes from home and end it late in the evening an hour away. I had not planned to split my days between two schools again; last year I commuted 3,000 miles just between campuses. That number doesn't reflect regular commute from home to any one campus. But this semester's schedule for the school close to home meant that if I wanted to teach another class, and maintain my income level, that I would have to split one day a week.
I really, really didn't want to work that day; it was post-Labor Day Tuesday, and who wants to work that day? I call days like that double Mondays. I was working away, prepping for that day's lessons, when my heart started beating fast and hard. Mind you, I had finished my workout nearly two hours before and had my usual cup of 1/2 caf coffee much earlier in the day. I paused when the feeling didn't pass quickly. The heavy heartbeats faded, but I was puzzled, so I checked my pulse. Thirty-five beats in 15 seconds didn't seem okay, but I didn't feel any other symptoms. So I tried to concentrate on work and take lots of deep cleansing breathes.
I didn't have a sense that anything was seriously wrong, but this was annoying. I know the symptoms of a heart-attack, and my feelings just didn't fit the bill. My arm didn't hurt, no pain in my neck, no pressure or pain in my chest, no dizziness or short-ness of breath. About 45 minutes into this I went downstairs and took on aspirin, just to be cautious. I did some quick research online about causes and ways to stop this nonsense. The causes didn't fit my perception of my life, but the quick cure of bearing down and trying to blow my nose while I held it closed didn't stop the annoyance.
I went to the school, thinking that movement might help. I took a power walk across the campus (another suggestion for stopping heart palpitations). The local paper was scheduled to come into my classroom that day, and I wanted this annoying feeling in my chest to stop so that I could focus on what needed to get done. I spent time in my office doing deep-breathing; one theory I had was that I was over-reacting to something subconsciously and that I needed to breath my way through the stress. I moved myself into the program office to sit quietly in the presence of the program assistant to help get myself out of my own head. That didn't work either.
I knew it was time to get some help when I could barely focus as I wrote on the board in preparation for class to begin. There were still no other definable symptoms beyond the heart racing that would ramp up then slow down, except now my heart beat was visible from the outside; when it started pumping hard again, I could see my chest moving with each beat; I looked like a cartoon character whose heart tries to beat out of his chest as a pretty woman walks by. I chose to ask advice from two colleagues. I think I said, "I am having heart palpitations and they won't stop." One woman offered to step into my class for me, and did almost immediately. The other sat with me while I called an advice nurse, then drove me to the doctor's office.
Through all of this I was really most frightened by the idea of having to cancel my classes. I didn't like the idea of having to go to the doctor (or have someone drive me), have a fuss made over me, make my students worry, or have my evening students show up to school for nothing. I found the entire scenario annoying, something that I vocalized to anyone who asked how I was feeling. Later in the doctor's office I had two short bouts of dizziness and experienced a little shortness of breath.
When I was first hooked up to an EKG machine, it only registered a faster than normal heartbeat, not the racing I had been experiencing. I mentioned this to the nurse; she had me sit up and lay back down. Sure enough, my heart took off racing again, and she was able to get a reading to show the doctor. The doctor showed it to a colleague who suggested I go to the ER.
A bit of comedy ensued between the decision to send me to the hospital and the actual arrival of the ambulance. First a nurse came into the exam room with an EKG machine and told me to take my blouse and bra off, then put on the top-only paper gown so she could hook me up to the machine. Then another nurse came in and said I didn’t need to be undressed, so I put my clothes back on. Then another body entered the tiny room and said I needed to be undressed up top. Ultimately they found a way to let me keep my clothes on and still attach wires to my chest, but each time a new medical personnel would walk into the room their reaction to me was of confusion. They had heard what my heart was doing so they expected to see a pale, ill looking woman. Not me. I was sitting up, making conversation, laughing and talking about feeling annoyed. They looked quizzically from me to the monitor and back. The readings were not good, yet I seemed to feel okay. When my heart would ramp up for another race, I would close my eyes and take long slow deep breaths until I felt my heart reset itself. Mind you, it didn’t reset back to sinus rhythm, but back down to 140 beats per minute. My normal resting heart rate is 68-72 beats per minute.
The ambulance was manned by two lovely young guys who weren’t the least bit hard on the eyes. In fact, once I was strapped down to their gurney (giggle), my heart never returned to the uber-high rate again; it remained annoyingly high, but not dangerously so. The individual who sat in the back with me answered many of my questions about potential causes (hypo-thyroid, hyper-thyroid, anemia) and long-term fixes (ablation). The doctor and paramedics agreed that the heart-rate was not dangerous, but the possibility of developing a blood clot after 24 hours of this and the clot leading to a stroke was a concern.
We rolled into the ER at 4:10 which was quite a shock given that I had left work just after 1pm. It would seem that time goes by much faster for the patient than the waiting family. I can’t honestly say that I was a difficult patient, but I made it very clear to the doctors who treated me that I was annoyed and wanted to return to work. They, in turn, made it very clear to me that I would not be stepping foot on either campus again until the following week.
Apparently while I was off work my colleagues diagnosed me as being overly stressed, but the doctor who oversaw my care in the Cardiac Care Unit (I was in the same area as ICU patients; how annoying!) was adamant that stress was not the cause. My own GP seems to believe that stress added to the issues and the cardiologist I saw this week explained that they could find no organic reason for the sudden onset of Atrial Fibrillation, so they have to assume that it will come back, and yes, I need to reduce my stress levels.
In the ER, I was given three IV doses of a beta-blocker to help my heart return to a normal beat. When that didn’t work, they gave me an oral dose. A few hours later my heart reset itself to sinus rhythm and has been there ever since. Blood tests and an echocardiogram were run the following day before I was sent home. Ultimately no cause was found.
So now I am taking a daily dose of aspirin and a damned beta-blocker. I am too young and healthy for this. Side effects include dizziness, digestive problems, low heart rate and depression. And annoyance. I have given up all coffee, sweets and cut alcohol consumption down to one glass, two times per week. I increased my exercise regime from 4 days per week to 7. I had already reduced my workload for fall; instead of teaching 110-130% between two schools, I am teaching 89% and am taking it down to 75% in spring.
Both my GP and my cardiologist are willing to let me try going off the med (properly supervised of course) in about six months time, so long as I have no other episodes and the lifestyle changes I have made have some time to take effect.
Until then I will likely remain quite annoyed.
You know that quick fluttering that you feel in your heart sometimes? You are sitting quietly or driving and suddenly you can feel your heart beating; it feels fast and loud, like it is trying to make its presence known. Then it returns to normal; the whole episode comes and goes so quickly that it barely registers because you have already moved onto the next thought. Heart Palpitations are listed as common symptoms of peri-menopause, anxiety, or a reaction to caffeine, so when they occur, I don't usually think anything of them.
Two weeks ago I was sitting at my desk in my home office prepping for classes. It was a Tuesday, my long day. I begin my teaching day on the campus five minutes from home and end it late in the evening an hour away. I had not planned to split my days between two schools again; last year I commuted 3,000 miles just between campuses. That number doesn't reflect regular commute from home to any one campus. But this semester's schedule for the school close to home meant that if I wanted to teach another class, and maintain my income level, that I would have to split one day a week.
I really, really didn't want to work that day; it was post-Labor Day Tuesday, and who wants to work that day? I call days like that double Mondays. I was working away, prepping for that day's lessons, when my heart started beating fast and hard. Mind you, I had finished my workout nearly two hours before and had my usual cup of 1/2 caf coffee much earlier in the day. I paused when the feeling didn't pass quickly. The heavy heartbeats faded, but I was puzzled, so I checked my pulse. Thirty-five beats in 15 seconds didn't seem okay, but I didn't feel any other symptoms. So I tried to concentrate on work and take lots of deep cleansing breathes.
I didn't have a sense that anything was seriously wrong, but this was annoying. I know the symptoms of a heart-attack, and my feelings just didn't fit the bill. My arm didn't hurt, no pain in my neck, no pressure or pain in my chest, no dizziness or short-ness of breath. About 45 minutes into this I went downstairs and took on aspirin, just to be cautious. I did some quick research online about causes and ways to stop this nonsense. The causes didn't fit my perception of my life, but the quick cure of bearing down and trying to blow my nose while I held it closed didn't stop the annoyance.
I went to the school, thinking that movement might help. I took a power walk across the campus (another suggestion for stopping heart palpitations). The local paper was scheduled to come into my classroom that day, and I wanted this annoying feeling in my chest to stop so that I could focus on what needed to get done. I spent time in my office doing deep-breathing; one theory I had was that I was over-reacting to something subconsciously and that I needed to breath my way through the stress. I moved myself into the program office to sit quietly in the presence of the program assistant to help get myself out of my own head. That didn't work either.
I knew it was time to get some help when I could barely focus as I wrote on the board in preparation for class to begin. There were still no other definable symptoms beyond the heart racing that would ramp up then slow down, except now my heart beat was visible from the outside; when it started pumping hard again, I could see my chest moving with each beat; I looked like a cartoon character whose heart tries to beat out of his chest as a pretty woman walks by. I chose to ask advice from two colleagues. I think I said, "I am having heart palpitations and they won't stop." One woman offered to step into my class for me, and did almost immediately. The other sat with me while I called an advice nurse, then drove me to the doctor's office.
Through all of this I was really most frightened by the idea of having to cancel my classes. I didn't like the idea of having to go to the doctor (or have someone drive me), have a fuss made over me, make my students worry, or have my evening students show up to school for nothing. I found the entire scenario annoying, something that I vocalized to anyone who asked how I was feeling. Later in the doctor's office I had two short bouts of dizziness and experienced a little shortness of breath.
When I was first hooked up to an EKG machine, it only registered a faster than normal heartbeat, not the racing I had been experiencing. I mentioned this to the nurse; she had me sit up and lay back down. Sure enough, my heart took off racing again, and she was able to get a reading to show the doctor. The doctor showed it to a colleague who suggested I go to the ER.
A bit of comedy ensued between the decision to send me to the hospital and the actual arrival of the ambulance. First a nurse came into the exam room with an EKG machine and told me to take my blouse and bra off, then put on the top-only paper gown so she could hook me up to the machine. Then another nurse came in and said I didn’t need to be undressed, so I put my clothes back on. Then another body entered the tiny room and said I needed to be undressed up top. Ultimately they found a way to let me keep my clothes on and still attach wires to my chest, but each time a new medical personnel would walk into the room their reaction to me was of confusion. They had heard what my heart was doing so they expected to see a pale, ill looking woman. Not me. I was sitting up, making conversation, laughing and talking about feeling annoyed. They looked quizzically from me to the monitor and back. The readings were not good, yet I seemed to feel okay. When my heart would ramp up for another race, I would close my eyes and take long slow deep breaths until I felt my heart reset itself. Mind you, it didn’t reset back to sinus rhythm, but back down to 140 beats per minute. My normal resting heart rate is 68-72 beats per minute.
The ambulance was manned by two lovely young guys who weren’t the least bit hard on the eyes. In fact, once I was strapped down to their gurney (giggle), my heart never returned to the uber-high rate again; it remained annoyingly high, but not dangerously so. The individual who sat in the back with me answered many of my questions about potential causes (hypo-thyroid, hyper-thyroid, anemia) and long-term fixes (ablation). The doctor and paramedics agreed that the heart-rate was not dangerous, but the possibility of developing a blood clot after 24 hours of this and the clot leading to a stroke was a concern.
We rolled into the ER at 4:10 which was quite a shock given that I had left work just after 1pm. It would seem that time goes by much faster for the patient than the waiting family. I can’t honestly say that I was a difficult patient, but I made it very clear to the doctors who treated me that I was annoyed and wanted to return to work. They, in turn, made it very clear to me that I would not be stepping foot on either campus again until the following week.
Apparently while I was off work my colleagues diagnosed me as being overly stressed, but the doctor who oversaw my care in the Cardiac Care Unit (I was in the same area as ICU patients; how annoying!) was adamant that stress was not the cause. My own GP seems to believe that stress added to the issues and the cardiologist I saw this week explained that they could find no organic reason for the sudden onset of Atrial Fibrillation, so they have to assume that it will come back, and yes, I need to reduce my stress levels.
In the ER, I was given three IV doses of a beta-blocker to help my heart return to a normal beat. When that didn’t work, they gave me an oral dose. A few hours later my heart reset itself to sinus rhythm and has been there ever since. Blood tests and an echocardiogram were run the following day before I was sent home. Ultimately no cause was found.
So now I am taking a daily dose of aspirin and a damned beta-blocker. I am too young and healthy for this. Side effects include dizziness, digestive problems, low heart rate and depression. And annoyance. I have given up all coffee, sweets and cut alcohol consumption down to one glass, two times per week. I increased my exercise regime from 4 days per week to 7. I had already reduced my workload for fall; instead of teaching 110-130% between two schools, I am teaching 89% and am taking it down to 75% in spring.
Both my GP and my cardiologist are willing to let me try going off the med (properly supervised of course) in about six months time, so long as I have no other episodes and the lifestyle changes I have made have some time to take effect.
Until then I will likely remain quite annoyed.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
How long has it been, exactly?
I purchased a new computer sometime in the last few months (notice that I don't remember when).
I have been slowly integrating passwords and frequently used urls into the new system and browser so that my regular online movements are usual for the new software/hardware. Apparently time passed much more quickly than I realized, because when I decided to visit this blog, my computer responded in a fairly ignorant way. It not only didn't recognize the first words of my blog url, it didn't automatically take me to my space in space.
Is it really the new computer's fault that I was temporarily lost on the Information Highway? Not at all. It is all on me.
Looking back, I notice that there is more than one post relating to balance. Balancing my various lives has proven to be challenging, and a consistent theme in my life.
I am finally beginning to see that the problem with balance is directly related to over-scheduling, and not to a lack of work on my part. I have set myself up for too much work and too little time. I spend my semesters planning and grading and commuting, so much so that I spend my short breaks attempting to reconnect with my loved ones, and then I plunge headlong back into an overwhelming schedule.
Can I change this pattern? Perhaps.
I have made some very conscience decisions about my schedule for this fall. I made them part-way through an overloaded summer. Are the planned changes enough? I don't know yet.
The proof, I suppose, will appear, or not, in future blog postings.
I have been slowly integrating passwords and frequently used urls into the new system and browser so that my regular online movements are usual for the new software/hardware. Apparently time passed much more quickly than I realized, because when I decided to visit this blog, my computer responded in a fairly ignorant way. It not only didn't recognize the first words of my blog url, it didn't automatically take me to my space in space.
Is it really the new computer's fault that I was temporarily lost on the Information Highway? Not at all. It is all on me.
Looking back, I notice that there is more than one post relating to balance. Balancing my various lives has proven to be challenging, and a consistent theme in my life.
I am finally beginning to see that the problem with balance is directly related to over-scheduling, and not to a lack of work on my part. I have set myself up for too much work and too little time. I spend my semesters planning and grading and commuting, so much so that I spend my short breaks attempting to reconnect with my loved ones, and then I plunge headlong back into an overwhelming schedule.
Can I change this pattern? Perhaps.
I have made some very conscience decisions about my schedule for this fall. I made them part-way through an overloaded summer. Are the planned changes enough? I don't know yet.
The proof, I suppose, will appear, or not, in future blog postings.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Checking Out the Other Side of Town
Lately I have been exploring another side of town. I'm not referring to East or West Petaluma, but the non-auto paths that have grown up here in the last dozen or so years.
I have driven on nearly every road in this town. Other than a few missing toddler months and most of the years between my eighteenth and twenty-eight birthdays, I have always lived in Petaluma, so I have been to most streets and most neighborhoods at one time or another.
But these paths are from a different side of town. The side of town that isn't noticeable unless you are on foot, the side of town that I normally ignore when I am driving around looking for a new address or a garage sale. They are marked by greenery, the trees, shrubs, grasses, flowers. And they are beautiful!
The local bicycle committee has been working with the city planners to create and lengthen these paths that connect the two (often rival) parts of town. There is more to be done, but eventually several parts of the city will be connected by paths built exclusively for walking and biking. I’m usually quite critical sharing the road with bicyclists, solely because that particular set of drivers doesn’t share well. One if 25 bikes will obey the local stop signs and lights when we meet at an intersection. This creates dangerous situations for them that it seems motorists like myself are blamed for. But on these paths, the bikers are far more considerate. Some call out from behind in plenty of time before passing by; others simply try to ride around without startling anyone. I don’t mind sharing this side of town at all.
I can walk from the farthest edge of town to my neighborhood with only an occasional foray onto paved streets. I can walk by creeks and parks, over bridges, through gardens, under redwood trees, next to rose bushes, blackberry bushes and buckeye trees.
Recently I came across a man dressed in red, white and blue, digging in the dirt just off the path. He had witnessed a squirrel being hit by a car and had opted to bury the poor thing instead of leaving it out for the elements and other passing cars to destroy. It was a nice gesture; a bit creepy, but nice nonetheless.
This other side of town is a quieter place to visit. I can walk as briskly or slowly as I please. I am only pushed by my want of exercise or pulled back by my fatigue. It is a part of life that is easy to forget exists. Walking in my own neighborhood, I get caught up in perceived necessities: cooking, cleaning, grading, and organizing. Walking my dogs in the neighborhood or downtown, on the sidewalks as cars move past, feels much more manic. It is a feeling of mania that I couldn’t see clearly until I was away from it.
Right now I only walk on the path, me and my dogs and occasionally my husband. It is my time to meditate and nurture my body, and of course exercise my dogs. But it might someday become my own bike path to work, a way to gear up and wind down. I'm hoping to be a regular visitor to the other side of town.
I have driven on nearly every road in this town. Other than a few missing toddler months and most of the years between my eighteenth and twenty-eight birthdays, I have always lived in Petaluma, so I have been to most streets and most neighborhoods at one time or another.
But these paths are from a different side of town. The side of town that isn't noticeable unless you are on foot, the side of town that I normally ignore when I am driving around looking for a new address or a garage sale. They are marked by greenery, the trees, shrubs, grasses, flowers. And they are beautiful!
The local bicycle committee has been working with the city planners to create and lengthen these paths that connect the two (often rival) parts of town. There is more to be done, but eventually several parts of the city will be connected by paths built exclusively for walking and biking. I’m usually quite critical sharing the road with bicyclists, solely because that particular set of drivers doesn’t share well. One if 25 bikes will obey the local stop signs and lights when we meet at an intersection. This creates dangerous situations for them that it seems motorists like myself are blamed for. But on these paths, the bikers are far more considerate. Some call out from behind in plenty of time before passing by; others simply try to ride around without startling anyone. I don’t mind sharing this side of town at all.
I can walk from the farthest edge of town to my neighborhood with only an occasional foray onto paved streets. I can walk by creeks and parks, over bridges, through gardens, under redwood trees, next to rose bushes, blackberry bushes and buckeye trees.
Recently I came across a man dressed in red, white and blue, digging in the dirt just off the path. He had witnessed a squirrel being hit by a car and had opted to bury the poor thing instead of leaving it out for the elements and other passing cars to destroy. It was a nice gesture; a bit creepy, but nice nonetheless.
This other side of town is a quieter place to visit. I can walk as briskly or slowly as I please. I am only pushed by my want of exercise or pulled back by my fatigue. It is a part of life that is easy to forget exists. Walking in my own neighborhood, I get caught up in perceived necessities: cooking, cleaning, grading, and organizing. Walking my dogs in the neighborhood or downtown, on the sidewalks as cars move past, feels much more manic. It is a feeling of mania that I couldn’t see clearly until I was away from it.
Right now I only walk on the path, me and my dogs and occasionally my husband. It is my time to meditate and nurture my body, and of course exercise my dogs. But it might someday become my own bike path to work, a way to gear up and wind down. I'm hoping to be a regular visitor to the other side of town.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)