I am so sick of medical-related posts. I want to get back to the silliness I enjoy everyday, and straighten out the mess my finances are in, and get back to work before the mortgage is due. But there’s so many questions I have– and have to admit– that idea of taking another fall like my last one is terrifying.
My normal, stumble-over-my-own-feet kind of falls are scary enough. But these… the sensation of suddenly being in the air with no tactile connection to the mechanics of the fall… are different.
The brain fog is still heavy, and I think most of what I am struggling with now are side effects from the beta blocker, or potentially hormonal, and I thought I had a TSH check today at my local quest. It was part of why I didn’t go back to work today, I wanted to discuss the heart monitor, my TSH levels and my orthostatic hypotension with my doctor. (Orthostatic hypotension means blood pressure that drops too low when you recline or lie down.)
I’m going to tell the story a little backwards…
Tuesday Morning
I originally set my alarm for 4:45 a.m. I planned for today to be a practice wake-up day for work tomorrow and I have a 6:40 a.m. appointment for a TSH blood draw at Quest. Then, I would hopefully discuss with my doctor today the state of my orthostatic hypotension (confirming that it is orthostatic hypotension and that I am not at an increased risk of falling since my work involves standing all day), the results of the Zio heart monitor and my TSH levels.
The cardiologist sent his report last night — the Zio patch heart monitor did not detect any afib, and he would like to keep me on the beta blocker as long as I tolerate it.
And again, if I’m honest, I think the beta blocker is causing the orthostatic hypotension, but in general, I think it has helped calm my system down a lot.
I woke at 2 a.m. I’ve been drinking electrolyte water in the evening and in the morning as suggested by my doctor, which meant it was 2 a.m. and I really had to use the bathroom. But, being the neurotic little patient I am, I had to take my blood pressure to see what happened when I moved around in the middle of the night.
When I woke up, my blood pressure was 96/56, when I arrived in the bathroom it was 113/80, after I relieved myself it was 118/74, and when I woke up at 5:45 a.m., it was 100/56. I had changed my alarm in the middle of the night, forgetting I wanted to take a shower and do stuff. When I realized in the Quest parking lot that my appointment was for tomorrow and not today, my blood pressure was 111/73. So I came home, made coffee, had breakfast (see the brioche bagel at the end of this post) and my blood pressure dropped to 103/64 by 7:30 a.m.
I am trying to incorporate more of my stretches into my daily activities, especially when transitioning from standing to sitting and vice versa. My physical therapy is going very well, but I feel bad that I don’t keep up with it nearly enough at home, but I have so much on my mind with my hand, lingering bruising from the fall which I can’t believe it’s been a month, my blood pressure, and lightheadedness.
Luckily, I try to get to the gym between physical therapy appointments and I try to do balance exercises and finger stretches as part of my day-to-day.
Some random fun food stuff
Yesterday, the Teenager gave me $100 and asked if I could do her grocery shopping for her. Because it’s Easter week, a lot of her pet sitting clients need her. She has almost 20 visits a day most days. I went to Grocery Outlet and bought things I knew she would eat and from her list. For breakfast: muffins, Morningstar breakfast patties, Danish banana pancake balls (which are so good), brioche bagels, orange-pineapple juice, Cookie Crisp, milk. For lunch: salami rounds from Hillshire, snack packs of cheese and meat, precooked bacon, pepperoni sticks. For snacks: salad fixings, bananas, clementines, baby carrots, hummus, diet sodas, Dr. Pepper, and sweet tea. For quick dinners: ramen broth, spaghetti, pasta, red sauce, sliced black olives. My total came to $84. Teenager said she might send me grocery shopping all the time.
The banana pancakes are very good in the air fryer.
I had one of the brioche bagels. They are fiendishly soft and freakishly just a brioche with a hole in the middle.
I’ll try to keep this brief, as it is late, and I don’t want to disrupt my sleep schedule. Okay, so it’s 9:30 p.m., but I do plan on returning to work this week so I can’t be partying like a hooligan. I was supposed to return-to-work tomorrow, but I have been having issues this weekend, similar to the issues I had on Wednesday.
I woke up lightheaded– and it took me more than TWO HOURS to drag my body out of bed. I also took my blood pressure when changing positions since the doctor wondered if I might be experiencing postural hypertension. I reviewed my doctor’s notes from Wednesday’s visit, and he said to contact him if my systolic blood pressure fell below 110. It’s been below 110 most of the weekend.
the cake is a bunny
I felt almost drunk. That’s the only way I can describe it.
So I said “F**k it,” and made coffee and had cake for breakfast, thinking maybe I didn’t eat enough with my 6 a.m. meds.
My blood pressure went lower.
I called out sick for tomorrow and maybe Tuesday. I want to talk to my doctor about these numbers first. And I have a blood test Tuesday that I also might want to know the result of before we end this leave.
The Teenager channeled the 90s in her attire today: Vans, fishnets, distressed denim shorts, a crop top and a flannel. I wondered if she should have been part of my college friend group instead of my offspring.
So I did a lot of computer work– which went slowly because my brain fog was so thick when I paused to make toast and eggs (to balance out the cake), I started doing dishes, forgot to turn on the water, struggled with how to make the hot water work, and then almost forgot the toast in the Cuisinart air fryer/toaster oven.
Luckily my cleaned, rearranged bedroom is cozy. So I spent quite a bit of time up there– until the dog spooked the cats and trampled poor old Opie. Louise meanwhile protected him. And apparently, she thinks the air purifier is for her benefit.
I just had to hop on and point out that not knowing what is going on doesn’t bother me, going for random tests doesn’t bother me, but not knowing when my symptoms are dangerous is terrifying. Because these falls seem like they should be easy to prevent. Instead my own body wants to catapult me to the floor.
I feel silly calling out of work. I worry, as anyone does, about money. I don’t want to be “the boy who cried ‘wolf,'” but I don’t want to get hurt worse next time. Because these are getting more dramatic.
Meanwhile, another item my doctor suggested was drinking electrolyte beverages throughout the night. I have some packets of Propel, which I might move to my purse for travel or work. I also bought PowerVitamin Electrolyte Power Plus supplement. I got raspberry, but now I really want lemonade and watermelon. I have been so hydrated even after taking a multi or overnight my urine doesn’t turn dark.
I keep the powder in my bedroom and mix it in the evening into my Sigg metal water bottle with the metal screw on top (from my bicycle). Minimizes threat of spills.
And speaking of my room (for the third time), we removed my old rug (I’m going to need a new one or to refinish my hardwood floors. The teen cut it into strips and placed them in the trash. They look very cool.
The reduced dosage of my beta blocker has put more pep in my step and so far improved my symptoms of feeling quasi-lightheaded. And I can get out of bed without sleeping 10 hours a night!
Yesterday was a magnificent day. The Teenager and I went to her grandmother’s for an impromptu early Easter dinner and pie baking lesson. Grammy’s crust is 1 cup flour, 1/2 cup shortening and 1/4 cup water.
We brought the dog and invited Southern Candy to have dinner with us, since she had texted that she missed me and I had produce scraps for the guinea pigs.
Southern Candy told me she had regrets about accepting the invitation because she doesn’t “know these people” but I assured her it would be no problems, she’d have fun and there would be pie. Prune custard to be exact.
And Southern Candy told me she doesn’t like custard. I told her she should try it, and if she didn’t like it, she could slip it onto my plate.
Southern Candy loved Grammy’s decorating style, her cooking and our free-flowing conversation. And then she was the first person at the table to reply when Grammy asked how the pie turned out.
“I’ll tell you,” Southern Candy said. “I don’t even like custard but this pie is delicious!”
Early Easter dinnerprune custard
Grammy’s pie does that to people.
Grammy tried to make me memorize the custard recipe: 4 eggs, 1 can sweetened condensed milk, 1 regular can milk, and corn starch. I forgot the exact measurement.
Meanwhile today I deep-cleaned my room. I only got it 75% done, but it gave me a chance to do sustained work before returning to the warehouse Monday. Perhaps in the future I will do a blog entry on family books. I have my travel diary, my great-grandmother’s little brother’s copy of Walden, my great-grandmother’s Aunt Tilly’s scrapbook and family notes, my great-grandmother’s journal from when she was 20, some old prayer books and hymnals, and my grandfather’s scrapbook of his time on the Queen Mary during World War II, which has Bob Hope’s autograph in it.
gifts from Darrellreorganized bookshelfold family and personal booksart of our pets and my chicken paintingsdog sneaks into my clean bed
And I got the results of my Zio patch — but the cardiologist has not reviewed them yet.
7:30 a.m., Wednesday, April 5: Yesterday I was discharged from hand rehab with John at The Institute for Hand and Upper Extremity Rehabilitation. My hand strength in my right hand is stronger than my left hand, so even though my pinky doesn’t quite have all the functionality it should, John thinks with proper use and exercise at home I can handle recovery.
As John said, implying that he could trust me to monitor and invest in my own hand health, “with everything you have on your plate, this is a mere flesh wound.”
Indeed.
With that, I had my last session of rolling and smashing silly putty and twirling balls in my hand. Really, hand therapy is not that far from children’s play. As an adult, there’s not enough activities that involve silly putty.
After a weekend of high blood pressure, my body suddenly feels low– and my blood pressure is on the low side, even after coffee, and I’m light-headed and feel as if my blood sugar could be low, despite snacking on a slice of fresh pizzeria pizza (I found that real pizza versus Dominoes or frozen varieties does not have the sodium and preservatives that impact my numbers) when I took my evening dose of Lopressor. I ate breakfast, and that helped some, but not enough. I also had an 8-ounce glass of water.
So, as my primary care doctor is signing off on me returning to work on Monday and we’re still waiting for my cardiologist’s report, I’m terrified that something might happen today. But I don’t want to manifest my own misfortune. It’s interesting to note that today was supposed to be my first day back to work, but I still have physical therapy during the day this week, and I felt better knowing my cardiologist should have the info he needs by then in case we need to make adjustments to my treatment plan.
The manufacturer of the Zio sent a push notification to my phone that they received my device and will have the data to my doctor soon.
My left hip, according to my physical therapist, was tight Monday, and now my right hip is giving me issues, the kind of issues it often has when compensating for the left hip.
I should have taken a shower last night, but I thought it would be nice to shower in the morning, but then I remembered I have physical therapy and the gym today… but I might have to take two showers today. I need to see if I can shake this feeling of brain fog and lightheadedness. By then, it will be 8 a.m. and I can call my doctor’s office. They are next door to physical therapy so maybe one of the medical assistants can take my blood pressure. Because my neurologist would be mad at me if I ignore this.
8:20 a.m. After a hot shower and exposure to The Teenager’s work drama– not being able to get into a client’s house to feed the dog– my blood pressure is now high. So I don’t know whether to call the doctor or not. I put on my sports bra inside out and my shirt backwards.
8:30 a.m.I called the doctor’s office. They won’t let a nurse or medical assistant take my blood pressure because they would like a doctor there because of my history. I have an 11:15 a.m. appointment, directly after my physical therapy, with one of the residents, I think, because it says my doctor’s name but that’s not what she told me. But it usually shows the resident’s names so we’ll see.
9 a.m. I decide to play with the Stitch Fix style algorithm before leaving as I only have a couple minutes. This will be important later… because brain fog. That was another symptom I’m struggling with– I put on my sports bra inside out and my shirt backwards.
Brief interlude while I am thinking of it. My hospital EOB came yesterday, as did updates as to some of my other medical visits. It’s obscene to see the battle between medical providers and private insurance companies. When did this become an acceptable model of business? The hospital charged my insurance company almost $18, 500 for one day of services. The insurance company pays a pre-negotiated rate of $2,500 and I get bill about $300.
In a similar fashion– the medical office billed the insurance company for the resident who so patiently spent 30 minutes removing three stitches from my face. It was itemized as “surgery” and the provider billed $66, of which the insurance company paid $13. And left $1.50 for me. So this poor resident, who worked her way through medical school and had to dig the stitches out of my scabby face, isn’t even worth $30/hour?
9:40 a.m. I arrived at Physical Therapy to sit and read my book until my appointment. Yesterday, I finished Susie Bright’s How to Read/Write an Erotic Story and I have every intention of finishing Suzanne Mattaboni’s Once in a Lifetime today.
10 a.m. or there-abouts: physical therapy with Jimmy, instead of Eric, because it’s Eric’s birthday, and his colleagues suggest that this might not be his first thirtieth birthday. I am also informed that the goal today is to poke fun at Eric as much as possible because he’s not there to defend himself.
Summary of Physical Therapy: I worked hard and found myself pushing and having good balance despite the issues with my quasi-lightheadedness. As usual, my left side is tighter than my left, but I notice as the day goes on my discomfort on the right seems to be correcting itself.
I also told my physical therapist about The Institute for Hand and Upper Extremity Rehabilitation and my mallet finger that I did last year, right before Easter. I explained how I ruptured the tendon pulling my socks off. He’s now afraid to take his socks off.
10:40 a.m. I stop at the car to update my notes and drink some water. This massive Audi SUV is parked next to me, requiring that I turned sideways to slip into my car. I take my blood pressure: 122/71.
10:50 a.m. I walk down to the primary care office, and finally put the facts together that between the physical therapy office and the family practice, there is a pediatrician. That’s why I always hear screaming children though the wall. I use the rest room and open my book.
11 a.m. My doctor’s assistant takes me back to the exam room, and confirms that I will be seeing my doctor. She’s the same person I correspond with through the portal, and who fills out all my paperwork with the patience of a saint. She doesn’t weigh me and this disappoints me because I think all this healthy eating has resulted in a smidge of weight loss.
If we’re honest, I feel silly. My head still doesn’t feel right, but I’m fine… I mean I’m going to be cautious but it could be so many things: blood sugar, blood pressure, the beta blocker, allergies or even the pollution from the major industrial fire a mile away yesterday or heck even stress… but the neurologist said… Everyone in the office, including the doctor, reassured me that I did the right thing since no one wants me to fall again.
My blood pressure was 120/77, which is pretty darn close to my car reading so that proves that my monitor is reading my blood pressure accurately and the presence of the doctors does not cause my blood pressure to increase.
Alpha Books J Journal
11:10 a.m. the assistant leaves and I open up the final pages of my book. And I finish it in five minutes.
11:30 a.m. the doctor arrives. He sees my Alpha Books J journal in my lap and starts asking questions. Then he asks why I am there– that my chart just says “high blood pressure.” I explain that no, it’s actually lightheadedness that started with low blood pressure but hasn’t abated since my blood pressure returned to normal levels, and that the neurologist made me promise not to ignore symptoms like lightheadedness.
I explain that I got out of bed a tad clumsier than usual, after ten minutes of trying to force myself up despite 9.5 hours sleep, and I just attributed it to stiff cerebral palsy legs. But as I went downstairs and turned the lights on, I realized I was a tad lightheaded.
I poured a glass of water, took my blood pressure and my meds, and made a cup of weak (for me) coffee and finished my water and had fruit and toast.
I pass the doctor my list of blood pressure readings and tell him my first of the day was 102/68, followed by 108/65 an hour later.
He peruses the list I gave him and asks, “do you have some fancy blood pressure device that takes your blood pressure every hour?”
“No,” I say. “I’m just neurotic.”
He chuckles. “It’s not bad,” he says. “It gives me data to work with. I have patients I can’t get to take their blood pressure once a day.”
“I know you’re going to ask me what happens in certain situations, so I just want to see if I can anticipate the questions so I have the answers. Like there’s definitely a difference when I eat pizza from the local pizzeria that uses real ingredients versus Dominoes.”
He mentions I should track my pulse. I told him I look at it when I take my blood pressure because the neurologist mentioned it but I haven’t written it down. I haven’t noticed anything. And I didn’t tell him about the symptom diary I started. But I did come home and add heart rate to my iPhone tracking info. I really need an Apple Watch. Okay, I want an Apple Watch, but I refuse to consider buying one until my business computer is paid off and I replenish my savings and pay off the credit card bills I ran up during this hiatus from work.
He performs some basic exams, and has the nurse take my blood pressure lying down, then sitting, then standing up. If the low pressure is caused by gravitational pull on my body, or something like that, my blood pressure will drop as I quickly force myself upright.
My blood pressure spiked (142/100) suggesting that I tensed, which I did, because the sudden movement made me feel like I was swaying. And I braced my muscles, afraid I might fall.
So, the next test in our journey through Angel’s recent career as a face-diving professional, is to half the dosage of my Lopressor. My doctor thinks he found a note made while I was in the hospital that the IV medication made me dizzy and that’s why they switched me to the oral tablets. I don’t recall this, but a lot happened that night… so I asked The Teen much later, and she said no, my memory is correct. I read the note the doctor found, and I believe, though I could be wrong, that the real problem is doctors have no skill at writing and this leads to misinterpretation. Ooooh, maybe I need to start a “Clearer Writing Styles for Doctors” workshop.
And since my echocardiogram was perfect, and he reviewed it there with me, but I’d already read it, he wondered if the beta blocker was necessary at all (ironic since he was trying to get me on blood pressure medication for the last two-plus years) and/or if the Afib was an isolated incident. I dispute this theory, because I had two unexplained, nearly identical falls within two weeks.
My doctor reduced my beta blocker in half, which meant I had to remember to go buy a pill splitter because I already have the tiniest pills I ever saw. And he also suggested taking some sort of hydration beverage into my bedroom– a G2 gatorade or a Propel– to drink before getting out of bed.
And he closed with something like, “these are the kind of things I have to tell my patients who are 70 or 80, but unlike them, you’ll listen.”
Then he asks, “when is your next appointment?”
Not until August, I reply. He looks to me in disbelief. “I want to see you before that.”
And he sends a note to the cardiologist that he reduced my beta blocker and asks him to review the data from the Zio patch. The same Zio patch that just returned to the manufacturer yesterday.
I mention I will see the cardiologist May 5, if that matters when scheduling our next rendez-vous.
“I want you to check in in the next couple days,” he directs me, “and I want to see you next week.”
“How about April 20?” I ask. “It’s in the middle of now and April 5 and I already have to take the day off for some CT scans at the hospital and physical therapy.”
I’m going back April 20, at 8:30 in the morning, to meet with one of the residents. I didn’t think to check which one.
12:10 p.m. I leave and head to my friend Maryann Ignatz’s house to bring her some books she ordered and visit.
2 p.m. CVS. The computers have gone insane. I don’t think this will impact me as I peruse the aisles. My list is simple: a better lotion for scar care, an electrolyte drink, a blood pressure monitor, and a pill splitter.
Now, I have a borrowed monitor and I’d rather have an Apple Watch connected to a wireless monitor cuff…
And the only thing on the list today I need right away is the pill splitter.
So I find one for $8.49 and I have a 40% off coupon that expires today. I also find Propel dry powder packets that go into a water bottle– I think $3.49 for ten packets. On Amazon, the already constituted Propel Water in the same flavor costs $8.38 for 12 bottles, which is 70 cents a bottle or twice the price. I even placed one of my reusable water bottles by my bed, and I picked one with a screw-on lid designed for my bike so it’s less likely to spill.
The blood pressure monitors start at $62, and the $62 one provide $10 in Extra Bucks, but I don’t want to spend that much now.
And the only lotions “better” than the ones I have at home start at $10 and the ones specifically for scars are $20.
And on top of all that, the system doesn’t really register my Extra Care card, so it says I was logged in, but it didn’t use my coupon.
I never pay full price at CVS.
And we’re not going to talk about the fact that they were sold out of jelly beans.
3:30 p.m. I make a run to the bank and take the dog for a trip to Dunkin’ for Munchkins. Oh, and the teen. I eat too many jelly munchkins, drink a cold brew and eat one of their salty processed sandwiches, their completely not-a-Grilled Cheese with their sun-dried tomatoes. Not worth the money I paid. My blood pressure does not change. I cancel the gym for tonight because I still don’t feel stable.
I come home and I cut a pill. The Teenager then insists she can do it better and that I’m sloppy.
vegan tofu salad with lime dressing and cucumbers
4 p.m. I spend some time with my cockatoo, and tend to some self-care details and start laundry.
6 p.m. The Teen and I make salads with tofu nuggets and romaine and cucumbers. The Teen devours heaps of romaine and cucumber. With a homemade fresh lime dressing.
I mention to the Teen that KFC has nuggets now.
“Really, Mom?” she protests. “You expect me to eat tofu after mentioning KFC?”
And then I proceed to drop the knife several times while chopping vegetables. I’m amazed I still have all my toes. Brain fog is so real.
6:45 p.m. I text the neurologist just to update her.
7 p.m. I place my last load of laundry into the dryer and find a half pill of my beta blocker on the table.
I call the teen’s name.
“Did I not take this with dinner? Did I miss my mouth?”
“I doubt you missed your mouth,” she reassures me. “It probably just slipped out of the bottle.”
“I could count them,” I say.
“And if there is an even number, you fucked up,” she says.
It was an odd number.
7:30 p.m. I finally retire to my room hoping to start a new book as part of my pre-bed, no screens ritual. I make the bed, feed the cats, put my Propel packets in my drawer and organize my lotion (for scar massage on my finger and my face) and my water bottle. But first I have to finish this blog entry. And I notice– to my chagrin– that somehow this morning I changed my next Fix from May 18 to April 18. Hopefully I can change it back before the stylist grabs it, because my charge card needs to take a little vacation from my wallet until I rebuild my rocky finances.
And that, friends, was my day. Louise the Tripod is snuggled against me, kicking me with her back feet and snoring. I still need to give the bird water, make my Propel, brush my teeth and massage my scars. So, if you think I’ve been over here partying during this short-term disability leave, I have not.
It’s early Monday afternoon. I did a lot of work for Parisian Phoenix and made some bad dietary choices– a bag of jelly beans on Sunday afternoon and a Whopper for dinner Saturday night. I don’t know if the incidents are connected, but my blood pressure has been higher than usual and my heart racing in an anxious fashion.
I slept in until almost 7 a.m.– and had a lot of trouble pulling myself out of bed. I just felt exhausted. And I had this cutey to snuggle, foster cat Tripod Louise.
I recently received a get well soon card from my colleagues at Stitch Fix, hopefully the cardiologist will receive the information from the heart monitor I took off Friday and have no reason why I can’t return to work next Monday.
Physical therapy today was challenging. Even with the anti-gravity treadmill, my left foot kept twisting the wrong way. It looks like my hip mobility is improving, but my left hip was tight today.
Also, hand rehab is tomorrow and I can’t bend my pinky enough to get it into the elastic strap I’m supposed to wear.
I started my day with some blogging before starting the morning round of doctors and my final day with the Zioheart monitor. I left at 8:30 for my chiropractor appointment, which also involves some physical therapy stretching and some balance assessment. With Nicole’s background, she serves an important cog in the wheel to know what she’s seeing and feeling as my body goes through it’s day to day.
But I’ve been feeling physically great, even if the beta blockers leave me prone to crashing and sometimes my blood pressure falling too low, but hey– that’s part of what the heart monitor is all about.
I went to the chiropractor and tried to demonstrate my impressive “trying to walk like a normal person” skills. And Nicole was encouraging. It’s exhausting and requires ridiculous amounts of focus, so I’m hoping it makes a difference to my hip issues and my femoral anteversion.
My chiropractor is just-about next door to the Lafayette College Store, where I needed to pick up some copies of our Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money anthology that we provided for last night’s Jean Corrie Poetry Reading and Ice Cream Social. You can read about that on the Parisian Phoenix Publishing web site here.
They were having a store meeting when I arrived, so I excused myself to a couch by the store manager’s office to wait for Gayle who wanted one of Maryann Riker’s unique handmade journals. I’m in the middle of Suzanne Mattaboni’s Pencraft award winning novel, Once in a Lifetime so I can safely amuse myself.
They also have some fascinating tile in the bathroom.
When she arrived, we went for a walk around College Hill, which Gayle had not visited since she left her job at Lafayette College circa 2015.
We walked about 4,000 steps and I stumbled three times and caught myself every one. It’s the longest walk I’ve taken since my hospitalization.
And I asked The Teen to evaluate my walking and she immediately said, “Nope. Your left foot is still messed up.”
And I was trying so hard.
Gayle and I then met up with Joan and the guys from Echo City Capers, where we discussed our upcoming events and book launches.
Then I came home and ripped off the Zio monitor, only to realize quite quickly why it itched so badly.
Our long-term foster Minerva is off to a habitat at the Phillipsburg Petco tonight.
Yesterday was Monday and I went for my second full physical therapy session. I admitted to him that the weekend got so crazy that time got away from me and I didn’t do as many stretches as the paper told me to. My therapist told me that was okay, as long as I was trying to walk as we practiced on the anti-gravity treadmill and kept stretching my hips to fight the internal rotation.
And I had another great session on the treadmill.
I also did extensive editing before and after physical therapy, to the point where I think I will have Larry Sceurman’s short stories ready for his approval tomorrow and I don’t see any reason why we wouldn’t send them to Gayle for design by early early April.
Later in the day, I went to the gym where we did primarily back and shoulders but also hip and core. That right hip, in a very specific location, was very unhappy with me. It’s something I’m going to have to look into with my physical therapist and my chiropractor and maybe my neurologist. My fitness coach Andrew wondered if it might be my IT band.
I noticed my fingers have not been tingling as they had.
I texted Gayle last night–if I made it up the stairs and to bed I would have earned my “fourteen days without a fall” graphic.
It arrived today.
I went to bed at 8 p.m. last night but couldn’t fall asleep until 9. I woke up around 2 a.m. and cuddled Louise for a while. I think she woke me, and I can’t help but wonder if she senses something about my heart rhythm. I heard my neighbor start his car at 5:45 and forced myself out of bed as my alarm was due to go off at 6.
I was exhausted. My blood pressure was perfect– 115/76– which made me think I should skip the morning coffee. But I needed to drive about 20 miles in morning highway traffic. I needed my wits about me.
A handful of peanuts, my SSRI, a beta blocker and a muscle relaxer, and a cup of coffee and I was good to go.
Hand therapy is always fascinating. Today I did the exercises I did last time (read about those here) and squeezed some putty. My therapist John took some measurements of my finger, and other than the swelling, there is only one angle that still has limited motion. So he gave me a piece of elastic and a safety pin to try and stretch it.
After hand therapy I called Nan, as I had promised to take her to the bank and to CVS. I had run out of Zyrtec the day before, and CVS had texted me and said my SSRI refill was ready. Still no word on my baclofen, the muscle relaxer prescribed by my neurologist. She had called me in late February (mere days before my first fall) and said she was sending in a prescription with six months of refills. The next day, CVS texted that they had received the prescription but the medicine was out of stock. I never heard from them again. I am almost out, but haven’t been taking it because they didn’t give it to me in the hospital.
I stopped along the way at Panera to use the bathroom and grab a cookie for breakfast. Panera makes an amazing oatmeal cookie with dried blueberries and raisins. When you consider the sodium, calories, sugar and protein, it’s one of the healthier choices. And it’s delicious. So I got one for me and for Nan.
I almost got back on the road forgetting my cookies, because I ran into a fellow library board member who called to me from across the store.
Once I picked Nan up we had a great time visiting her usual teller at the bank, whom we hadn’t seen in a while; going to the Dollar Tree (or as we like to say now the $1.25 cent store) for Easter decorations and cookies, where we ran into someone who lives in Nan’s old apartment building; and the most magic place of all– CVS.
We went to the pharmacy first. My SSRI was free, and I asked about my baclofen. They said my doctor canceled the order. I showed them the text, and I was told that was very weird and that I should call my doctor. I wonder if they asked her for a refill on the old prescription at the same time she sent a script for the new one, so she said no to their request, and they canceled both.
Nancy needed ibuprofen, a hair barrette and some Lysol wipes. I needed allergy medicine.
I had a coupon for $10 off 90 count Zyrtec or the house brand was on sale buy 1 get 1 50% off, with a $4 off coupon. I got 2-120 bottles for $40-something, versus the $60 the name brand would have cost for 90.
CVS brand pain relief was on sale, the big bottle was $19.49 and the smaller bottle was $14.49, but we had a coupon for $4 or $5 off $15 purchase, AND the smaller bottle had an expiration date of this summer versus late next spring like the bigger bottle. I had a 40% off coupon. So I thought that could cover the barrettes. The Lysol wipes were also on sale and we got the 35-count, and we had a 40-cent manufacturer coupon. (All the coupons came from the CVS app.) Nan’s total started around $32 and she ended up paying $19. In other words, she got everything for the original cost of the ibuprofen.
She loves accompanying me to CVS.
I brought Nan home, and when I got to my house I discovered that MY FIRST FIX ARRIVED FROM THE BIZZY HIZZY! I have been waiting to get a fix from Stitch Fix for 12 years! Joan opened it with me via Zoom.
I then ate a massive bowl of falafel and vegetables. I sent out a newsletter on Substack. Read that here. And attended a library board meeting tonight.
And don’t forget: Darrell Parry is hosting (and served as judge) for the Jean Corrie Poetry Reading & Ice Cream Social at Lafayette College Thursday. See the Substack or Facebook for details.
I had my full activity session at Physical Therapy today. I did my stretches, got strapped into the gait belt, and did a series of single leg stability exercises under the supervision of the computer’s measurements.
Then we headed to the zero-G treadmill. I was advised to make my feet and pants have contrast. So, I wore my bright green shoes, my purple polka-dot knee socks, and my black-and-white cat leggings from Purr Haus in Emmaus.
He chuckled while remarking that I certainly followed directions.
The Zero-G treadmill required some rubbery pants surrounded by what resembles a surgical/Elizabethan collar (cone of shame) that get zipped into a treadmill pretty much encased in plastic. When it filled with air, it reduced my body weight. I was able to walk the treadmill at 50% of my body weight.
The reason for contrast is that the treadmill offers an image of your feet. Three views on a monitor: front, side and back. So I was able to watch my feet, move my legs, angle my feet and reinforce the improved gait pattern by watching it as I walked.
I was only on the treadmill for 15 minutes, but it that time I discovered what part of my foot I normally don’t use. It was exhausting– and exhilarating– and so fun to show the Teenager the results when I got home.
But before I got home though I had an appointment to have my stitches out and on my goodness did I have the most personable and confident resident yet. I only had three stitches but that last one gave her a terrible time. It took her thirty minutes to get all of them out. I had her laughing and she was very patient and determined, and so afraid she was going to hurt me because “if it were me I’d be jumping out of my seat!”
She said I was the best patient ever, that I sat so still and I must have a high pain tolerance.
Between the two appointments, I stopped at Dunkin for a decaf coffee and saw they had a new “egg taco.” I read the nutritional info and with 500 mg of sodium, 180 calories and 8 grams protein, it had less salt and more protein and less calories than the avocado toast. I am so sad they no longer have the hummus.
When I got home, I did some little things and ate the homemade chicken and dumplings my Pennsylvania Dutch mother-in-law is known to deliver when people in the family are sick. And then I tried to take a nap, but a little birdie was guarding me.
Here I am, looking less exhausted and beaten. My scabs were flaking off and healing nicely but some of them cracked today (vigorous chewing? It happened at lunch time) and started bleeding. I’m still impressed at how quickly the body can heal, but these stitches feel like flies on my face.
I left the house early today to visit Koch 33 Collision. In early February, a work colleague’s car happened to give mine a love bite on the entrance ramp of 22– this was early on in the days of my unknown cardiac troubles when the symptoms were starting to show. I remember not because my heart had anything to do with that situation but because I joked about minor car accidents just adding more stress to my life. The estimate will cost less than $1500, hopefully the insurance companies can agree to that.
When I came home, I made myself my first cup of coffee for the day. I have slowly been changing my morning coffee habit into a morning water habit, unless my blood pressure is low, then I go ahead and make the coffee (which my occupational therapist at hand rehab thought was hysterical).
“What?” I said. “This is my first week on this medication and my blood pressure has been low when I have to take it. They don’t know what caused my a-fib, so I can’t skip the dose, but I also can’t take a beta blocker with a blood pressure of 97/56.”
Today my blood pressure was perfect so no coffee.
The neurologist’s office called and moved my appointment up a week from 4/4 to 3/30. I mentioned the report from the physical therapist should be in my chart, and that the news looked good, and that my body had adjusted to the beta blocker so my blood pressure and my blood sugar seemed to be stabilizing.
Gayle had promised me a new graphic every week I made it without a fall. Unfortunately, I was on day seven when the last fall occurred so I never earned it. But today is day eight. So I definitely made it seven days. And I display my new badge proudly.
I worked on Larry Sceurman’s short story “The Vanity Demon” for his upcoming anthology, Coffee in the Morning. I’ve reached the point in the editing schedule where I should edit one story a day to kick back to Larry for final tweaks before sending to Gayle for layout.
Speaking of stories and Larry Sceurman, Gayle, Nan and I spoke to the Apex Writers Group last night on Zoom, about 21 people attended our presentation. The participants seemed most interested in book construction, so Larry’s book, The Death of Big Butch, allowed us to show how we used text and book design to reinforce the nostalgic feel of the 1970s.
I also received my latest copy of the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group newsletter, which included my first official “Podcasts for Writers” column. If you’d like to read all of it, it appears here. More of these lists will be printed and organized in my paid Substack archives.
The Teenager came home from work and we had to run some errands. Somehow, we ended up at my hand rehab appointment more than an hour early. We visited Josh Early Candies, which killed some time. But with our meager budgets we could not afford fancy chocolates.
We ended up at Grocery Outlet, but not our local store, one on the other end of the Lehigh Valley. And we hadn’t made it 20 feet into the store when I spotted Silk Very Vanilla Soy Milk in juice boxes. Now this is The Teenager’s favorite milk for drinking.
She almost bought a pop-top can of artichoke hearts to eat in the car but proclaimed that would be a new low, even by her standards. I bought myself a pack of Maple Donuts because it was time for my afternoon snack, and I seem to do better if I save a carb-y item for around 2 p.m.
The Teenager then made a noise and I wasn’t sure what was wrong and she said it was sad how happy we were wandering around a discount grocery store. I lamented that it was a shame Nan could not be with us. And I didn’t know if that would be a good time to also mention that Gayle and I had exchanged emails with a ridiculous amount of excitement about customized packing tape from Sticker Mule.
Gayle had said she had to check out the template because it was something the business should do when we had more money and I quickly said that despite the fact that we recently printed a new book, this was something we obviously needed. And then she totally outdid herself on the design, so if Sticker Mule delivers a good products, it’s going to be so amazing that you will have to order books just so you can receive a package from us.I pack a good looking parcel to start with, so this will up our game.
When I showed Gayle’s proposed design to The Teenager, the Teenager also got excited and I bet her father would, too, because he did spent most of her life to date as a shipper-receiver so our whole family has an acute appreciation and enthusiasm for packing tape.
But this is taking up way to much space– The Saga of Angel and Gayle and their Polka Dot Packing Tape.
The Teenager and I sat in the parking lot eating Maple Donuts. Maple Donuts are always delicious, but they are not maple flavored. These donuts had a sell by date of March 27 and it’s only March 21 so I knew they would be melt-in-your-mouth soft. And they had cinnamon sugar. I LOVE A GOOD CINNAMON DOUGHNUT.
I ate two cinnamon. They glided down my gullet and I couldn’t help myself from also having a plain cake doughnut. I have no self-control.
The Teenager whipped out a Silk soy milk.
“Are you going to drink that warm?” I asked.
“Room temperature,” she answered. “Do you think I ever drank these cold? How do you think they came out of my lunch box?”
,
Hearing her reminisce about having these in her lunch box reminded me of how many times I worked hard to find sales and coupons and deals to buy them for her because I knew she loved them– and other than that she only got Juicy Juice or Adam and Eve juices because I was very strict on what I fed her and Silk in juice boxes was so expensive compared to the half gallons. And sometimes I worked hard to save money on all the other groceries so I had the $10 extra to buy her favorite milk for her lunch.
And they are delicious.
The half gallons supposedly are only sold at Dollar General these days but we still haven’t found one in our area that sells them.
Once we headed to The Institute for Hand and Upper Extremity Rehabilitation, we had our cravings satisfied.
The Hand Report
When I arrived at therapy, they wrapped my hand in a moist heated pack for twenty minutes and it’s the best twenty minutes of my life. My therapist heard my tale of falling down the stairs and landing in the hospital in the hours after my previous visit, and he said I win for the most interesting story of the day.
Then, he proceeded to talk with me about things I could do at home to prevent future falls and make my life safer– because he is, at the end of the day, at occupational therapist. It was a great talk. It was an even better conversation because he gave me a hand massage during it.
My mobility has improved greatly, and even though it is still swollen, I can make a fist! I did several exercises there. My therapist mentioned that next time we will focus on strength, because he believes he can trust my previous experiences to make sure I follow through with a home rehab plan, he wants to be sure I have full hand strength so that I can fully grip the banister.
“Not that I’m picking on you,” he added.
I did four sets of exercises. First I picked up handfuls of these six-sided dice and dropped them all so that the six was facing up. Then I held the big ball in my hand and drew the alphabet in the air with only my hand and my wrist, not my arm. Then I squeezed the red ball. For the final exercise, I had two balls the size of a golf ball but a tad lighter. I rolled them across my fingers and then tried to reverse the order on the way back.
A brief summary for anyone new here: I am getting closer to 48-years-old every day. I have spastic diplegia cerebral palsy which is a bunch of fancy words that mean my leg muscles don’t relax, my brain and my lower body don’t communicate well, and my hips, knees and ankles don’t work efficiently or even have a normal constitution.
I walk funny— I have an abnormal gait where my leg scissors and I toe walk. Decades of walking funny can cause wear-and-tear on the body.
But the last six weeks have thrown some new challenges at me: high blood pressure, unusual falls and now atrial fibrillation with rapid ventricular response.
The Splinter
Last night I got a massive splinter deep in my foot, in a place so deep that we couldn’t dig it out without really tearing a hole in my foot. So I asked the Teenager to slap a raisin on it and she did.
This did draw the splinter to the surface more but I haven’t removed it yet. The start of my last raisin-splinter journey happened a little more than a year ago. Read about that here. Especially if you want to hear how my splinter improved my gait and my hip pain and how the raisin and my cockatoo got the splinter out.
The Chiropractor
I visited Nicole Jensen of Back in Line Chiropractor and Wellness Center today— where she commented how loose everything was and how my body parts were all facing the right directions.
Feet facing feet directions
She got me ready for physical therapy where I’d be the youngest person in balance therapy today.
Physical therapy for balance and fall prevention
I have spent a lot of time in physical therapy — about every two years I turn up for few weeks with a physical therapist because even though a lot of it tends to be a repeat and I know what to do, it’s important to have an outside professional evaluate my status so I know I am doing the right thing for the problem.
In this case, we discovered:
The physical therapist approved of some of Nicole’s phrases for things— like “make my feet do feet things.”
My fitness coach Andrew and I are doing all the right things at Apex Training, using my sense of my body and Nicole’s insights on what my innards are doing.
The physical therapist is also impressed at my capacity to manage to take what could be catastrophic falls with relative ease. The Teenager says it’s because I “puddle,” relinquishing myself to the process instead of fighting it and tending up.
My static balance is impressive, but my dynamic balance “throws everything off,” meaning standing still I’m good, but moving or on an unstable surface, the issues can occur.
We will be working on exercises that open the hips and rotate the knees outward. And doing some gait work with a zero-gravity treadmill.
The physical therapist was also impressed with my ability to self-correct my gait, but I don’t know if he picked up on how much focus and energy that requires.
Angel Ackerman 