As the threat of rain descends upon on, the Ackerman household has an announcement:
The Teenager and her uncle built our indoor cats a cat tunnel to the outdoor cat cage.
My food dairy
8 p.m. last night: about 15 ounces water that kept me up peeing until almost 1 a.m. 6:30 a.m.: tried to brew 26 ounces of Supercoffee with about 1 tablespoon of cacao with maca powder. Think I brewed the coffee super strong. Served with half and half 8:15 a.m. poured second cup of coffee, realized I hadn’t had any water yet, poured 12 ounces. 9 a.m. ordered an iced tea for my daughter and “had to try” the new 200 calorie coconut macaroon iced coffee at dunking (but I got decaf) and the new chicken and roasted pepper wrap. 9:15 another 8 ounces of water; dunkin arrives, coffee made with coconut milk. It’s too sweet it’s going in the fridge. 12:20 15 ounces unsweetened earl grey iced tea 3 p.m. trying to drink the decaf coffee from dunkin (finished it)– two everything bagel tortilla, avocado, roasted pepper and kale, vegan meat slices and nutritional yeast.
5 p.m. we went to Dairy Queen for an ice cream cake for the Teenager’s birthday. We got it through the drive through — and they didn’t have eight inch so we got a discounted 10 inch Oreo Blizzard Cake.
Imagine our surprise when we arrived home and the dog— whom we had not crated— had let herself (and two of the cats) into the backyard.
I think I’ve eaten two thousand calories of ice cream cake— and I gotta say I’m impressed. DQ makes really good ice cream cakes.
This will be a shorter blog entry to record my health update. And my food diary. I hope to follow it up with a real essay. On being prepared for the unexpected side of advocating for yourself when it comes to your needs and your disability.
I woke up even more lightheaded today and by 9 a.m. I felt like I might either fall over or faint, so I took my intermittent medical leave and clocked out at 9:14 a.m. When I got home, I took a one hour nap, after which I could at least hold my head up without swaying. My heart rate was experiencing some highs and lows– highs of 130, lows of 44, within a short range. My blood pressure was111/67.
Food “today”:
7:30 p.m. yesterday: after not having dinner last night, I watched an old episode from season 2 of Rescue 9-1-1 and ate about 2.5 servings of Sahale Asian Sesame Edamame Bean & Nut Mix– with around 15% of your RDA in sodium and 6 grams of protein per serving.
4:30 a.m. Don’t judge me, but this morning I had about 10 ounces of water and a Coke Zero for breakfast. Despite having almost 8 hours sleep, I could still barely get myself out the door.
8:30 a.m. I was hoping food would help me feel better. I had grabbed the Brekki oats again as I ran out the door, but today they didn’t have my Greek yogurt in the breakroom so I grabbed a serving of JIF peanut butter to fatten up my dairy-free, gluten-free, vegan and goodness knows what other trend oats.
12:30 p.m. After my nap, I reheated my leftover pasta with jarred red sauce, a tad of mozzarella, and some tiny pieces of meatloaf for meatballs. My water level for the day, besides the 10 ounces this morning, is an additional 24 ounces.
It’s hard to watch the work ethic of some people fall apart as we face the closing of our warehouse. I only got six hours sleep last night, despite going to bed at a decent hour, and my heart rate rarely got below 90 today. And I keep facing less equilibrium. I can’t spell anymore. I can’t think.
And I have one more ten-hour shift tomorrow and a four-hour overtime shift on Saturday.
This post will be riddled with errors and I’m not going to tell you the details of how much yuckier my day went once I got home. But I will tell you I forgot to take my evening medication and I’m not going downstairs to get it.
I sent a message to my doctor yesterday asking if I could go through the medical nutrition program– and he referred me. I’ll be going Monday.
I really wanted Hungryroot’s pork snitzel(sp) for dinner but the teenager used up all the Ziploc bags and it’s a shake-and-bake type recipe and I need a bag.
And as soon as I write down my food intake for the day, I’m going to cry myself to sleep.
What I ate today:
4 a.m.: Supercoffee brewed with organic cacao and served with half and half. I took some to work but only drank about 16 ounces total and forgot it in the breakroom when I left for the day.
5:15 a.m.: water and homemade cheesecake.
8:30 a.m.: about 24 ounces in on water intake for the day. Brekki overnight oats, which were sweet, syrupy and wet so I added plain Greek yogurt.
11:30 a.m.: about 16 ounces more of water. One slice rye bread, creamy miso (about one teaspoon) and my mother-in-law’s meatloaf. Some Wallaby candies. But only about 1/2 a serving or so.
1:30 p.m.: golden kiwi. By the end of the shift, I had another 8 ounces water.
4 p.m.: about 12 ounces electrolyte water with a hint of cucumber and honey roasted pistachios.
This was supposed to be dinner, but I put it back in the fridge.
I spent all day lightheaded, with it getting progressively worse all day. I altered my food today to include more sodium. I even brought my electrolyte powder to work, but no improvement. And yes– I did email my doctor. I had tried to schedule an appointment but with his current vacation schedule and his tendency to be heavily booked, I might be best served by my late August wellness visit.
When the lightheadedness threatens to become full dizziness, my heartrate is in the 110-115 beats per minute range, which scares me. But still no signs of Afib.
At work today I did 162 fixes, which was our goal when we were still on 10-hour shifts. Now it’s 164. But I spent 40 minutes at the safety team. We discussed resumes.
Speaking of Stitch Fix… my Freestyle order from last week came, or at least 75% of it came. It’s ridiculous how long it took to get here.
Now, I have to be up at 3:45 a.m. to start my ten-hour shift at 5:30 a.m. so let’s get on to the food diary…
4:15 a.m.: I made 26 ounces of Supercoffee with half and half. I put it in my thermal mug and it took me three-quarters of the day to drink half of it. Then I put ice in the other half and put it in the fridge.
8:30 a.m.: probably drank 24 ounces of water so far at work. First break was Cabot cottage cheese, sipping my coffee and enjoying a golden kiwi. The cottage cheese had 18% of my RDA in sodium.
11:30 a.m.: Wendy’s chicken sandwich, the super basic one and I asked them to remove the mayo and add ranch and pickles, but they didn’t listen and merely removed the mayo. Added my own ranch and pickles. Had some sliced packaged apples and plaintain chips. The plaintain chips have minimal sodium and some vitamins. The chicken sandwich was processed so it had to be salty, but none of it made me feel better.
1:30 p.m.: probably drank about 24 more ounces of water and drank 1/2 my mason jar of water with my electrolyte powder. I finished it after work. Also had a bag of cashews.
6 p.m.: the teenager made dinner. Caesar salad with fried chicken, red peppers and cucumbers. I had two big bowls. And a glass of unsweetened iced tea, Earl Grey.
Then I packed a meatloaf sandwich on rye with creamy miso and nutritional yeast, another kiwi and licorice bites for lunch tomorrow. I also set the coffee pot to brew more Supercoffee at 4 a.m. and added some organic cacao into the coffee grounds.
Nan came over today so we could work on her writing stuff and she asked if we could stop for some bottled water, Excedrin and cash. We ended up at one of our favorite spots– Grocery Outlet– so I could buy some supplies for work lunches and some produce.
And they had her Excedrin, 200 caplets for $10. We also bought some mini soft iced molasses cookies from Archway and a bag of dehydrated kale with vegan cheese, and we made a video about them.
I did call my doctor today to see if I am a candidate for the medical nutrition program. But he doesn’t have any appointments before my already scheduled physical. I have to believe the extra thirty pounds plus on my frame isn’t helping my various symptoms, which range from tachycardia to orthostatic hypotension and my vitals seem out of whack.
And last week my doctor himself called me (when I have no tests or appointments that should even be on the radar) to tell me to stop taking my SSRI because with my ecg pattern there is a small risk of fatal arrhythmia. I had already started weaning myself off because I was on it for stress-induced high blood pressure and now that I have a beta blocker it seems redundant.
But now my blood pressure is high from life in general: losing my job soon, medical issues, mothering, pet parenting, business. It just keeps coming.
So Nan and I went to Grocery Outlet and I bought things I don’t even remember but I made this amazing salad for today and another for lunch tomorrow at work (with a flavored seltzer and a dr pepper zero strawberries and cream).
Kale
Pesto sauce
couscous
hummus
roasted chick peas
black beans
pumpkin seeds
red pepper
cucumber
Knowing dinner wouldn’t be until 7 p.m. I made myself a 4 p.m. snack.
Yesterday was a gorgeous Saturday morning and my coupon to Dairy Queen to get buy one, get one free Blizzards for my birthday was set to expire. The Teenager asked me if I would accompany her to the hardware store, and I said sure, if she would force me to go to Aldi for half and half, and she said, “Sure, then I can get more creamsicles with the popsicle outsides.”
It was 9:30 a.m.– The Teenager was on a morning break between pet sitting clients. She wanted to visit our neighborhood hardware store, Piscitello’s Home Center, for our first visit since the store changed hands. But first… I suggested we visit the other local hardware store in the small town a mile away from us, West Easton.
Now if you’re local to the Lehigh Valley of Pa., you might already know where I wanted to take her. You see the Teenager loves hardware stores, tools, doo-dads, mops and sponges. The Teenager took woodshop, engineering, and home repair in high school, all the hands-on, doing useful things kind of skills that she did not inherit from her father and I.
When she was about six, my brother had gotten a chain stuck on the pick up truck and Poppop on the Mountain was crawling around on the gravel parking lot trying to remove it. The Teenager– then the Wee One– crawled under the truck and gave it a yank with everything she had. Poppop laughed, and gruffly made the comment, “there’s my grandson.”
My father told that story, with such pride, at least once a year.
The Teenager doesn’t hesitate to tackle household projects so it was time to take her someplace special: Miller’s Hardware. It’s been around for more than 100 years, and our local television station even did a feature on it, click here. Most of us in the borough (Wilson) and in West Easton have homes that are 75 to 100 years old. So, to think that this little slice of living history with the bits and pieces we need to do things around our homes still exists is amazing.
They didn’t seem to take credit cards, and the cash register was very old, and Mr. Miller, whose grandfather started the business on Butler Street in Wilson and had been known for the in-house chickens, is a thin man who seems a tad slowed by age though he moves about the cluttered maze of rooms with precision.
I found some cash in my wallet that I keep for emergencies, and The Teenager bought a pair of safety googles, one of those long mixer drill attachments and some double stick carpet tape will dust glued to the box and graphic design that screamed of last century. I honestly encouraged her to buy it because of the box. The total came to $17.50.
We’re not sure how Mr. Miller did his math, but I think he sets the prices when he acquires the inventory and doesn’t increase them with inflation, because many of the prices were drawn on with marker and seemed way too low. But if it’s been on the shelf for twenty years, I think the merchandise is paid for.
I sent a photo of the tape to Gayle and asked her to give a guess when this product was made.
“1970s,” she said.
So is this double-stick carpet tape as old as I am?
Miller’s Hardware is an overwhelming and amazing gem.
But then we did have to go to the new Piscitello’s, where at one point, the Teenager almost had a part-time job if only she hadn’t worried about it conflicting with marching band season. We got a new hose, a hose splitter, some new hose nozzles and even some hose gaskets.
And then we went to Dairy Queen for blizzards. Now, with my recent health issues, I pee a lot. And even though I peed before we left the house, I had to go again already. So, The Teenager pulled over to Wawa and ate her blizzard while I ran in to use the restroom. Here is what we learned: Getting ice cream at Dairy Queen and people watching in the parking lot of Wawa might be our new favorite hobby.
And then on the way home, on the side street, right by our house, there was a turkey vulture in the middle of the road with a dead possum. And he made it quite clear, dragging that carcass around, that it was his and he was keeping it. We didn’t want to disturb him, so we sat and watched for a while, afraid to scare him away. But others didn’t share our special consideration for the vulture.
We made a video:
We did, by the way, get the half and half and popsicles so all is right with the world.
And today, The Teenager was chatting with me about her sudden appreciation for plain, old yellow mustard to which I said, “best thing on a hot dog, mustard and a puckle schmear.”
I really want my brain fog to lift. And then I offered her a piece of “chicky” because apparently my half-brain thinks chicken is too fancy a word.
Last night, after the representative from Susquehanna Service Dogs left, The Teenager and I went to Taco Bell because it was late and I was famished. Despite eating my meal and half of the teenagers– somehow I woke this morning extremely lightheaded and with a blood pressure of 110/60. The issue did not resolve until 5 hours later.
When we settled into the house last night, I noticed a wrapper on the floor.
“Hey, when did you get Nutter Butters?” I asked the Teenager.
Apparently, the dog had stolen them and eaten most of the pack. The dog just looked at us guiltily and wagged her tail.
And we had bought her a cheesy roll at Taco Bell.
I told some leads and supervisors about my service dog approval at work today and then when those closest to me had heard the news from me, I sent an official email.
It’s not my most eloquent work, because I’m utterly exhausted. It says, “I have been placed on the list for a service dog. It’s about a three year wait because they raise a puppy with my input for me. I don’t know what the next three years will bring— but regardless of whether I still work here or move on, I would like to initiate a conversation about whether a service dog would be considered a reasonable accommodation. Legally, it is considered reasonable if it helps me with my disability while at work, does not put any person or company interest in danger, and if the dog would be safe and not exposed to danger for its own welfare. The dog could help prevent falls and help me get clothes and other items out of the cart and off the floor.
We have a couple years to pursue this conversation and I have 2-3 years to raise the $5,000 to pay for the dog. So to have that investment pay off, I want to bring the dog to work.Also I am working with Susquehanna Service Dogs which is a very reputable and supportive program.”
One of the other people at work asked me what I would name the dog. I pointed out that I think financial donors get to name the puppies and so once I met my puppy and learned its name I would probably develop a nickname for it. He wants to know the potential nicknames.
I haven’t named a dog since the late 1970s. Preschooler me named our Old English sheep dog mutt “Cheezie” because she liked cheese.
And a local professional offered me a discount on his services so that I could use the extra funds to put aside for my service dog. That was super kind, and just goes to show that when you walk in the world with kindness and try to support those who support your community, that the karma comes back.
I came home from work and The Teenager had planted my flower from Southern Candy, exactly as I envisioned it.
I did some work for the publishing company, drank a cup of coffee and headed to the gym since I missed Wednesday having fallen asleep at 6 p.m. Andrew promised to go easy on me, because lately my blood pressure is high, my heart rate is low, and my blood oxygen keeps dipping to 94%.
I had a great workout, and even made it home without a fall or incident.
I shared my basic granola formula with Andrew, made salmon and couscous for dinner, and finished the gummy bears with The Teenager.
Being that it’s Friday night, I’m up a little late as The Teenager and I were talking about service dog gear, Gunnar kennels, and ADA service dog rule cards.
Then I came up to take my shower and Opie shot out of my room and Louise followed him. Louise is the tripod foster from Feline Urban Rescue and Rehab scheduled for adoption June 10. She hasn’t voluntarily left my room since I worked second shift. When the house was quiet at 1 a.m. she would normally follow me to the bathroom.
Despite waking yesterday 15 minutes before my alarm and falling asleep face down in my pillow as I tried to lift my phone off my desk to start my day, yesterday started as a decent day. It was slow, and everything seemed to annoy me. My body hurt, my heart rate and blood pressure seemed off, but my work metrics were good. Too good.
I was very thirsty all day, and ended up stepping away from my station three times during the day to use the restroom– which is not me– but my current symptoms include not being able to tell how urgent the signal to urinate is so waiting too long or not responding immediately might result in an uncomfortable outcome.
I returned to eating “real food” after a weekend of salty and sweet treats for my birthday, which made my body feel generally bloated and sluggish but had stabilized some of my postural issues.
And my hand, the one where the medical professional had done an exploratory IV last week, turned multiple colors that didn’t exist there over the weekend.
The coffee shop I had selected to meet Natalie Lowell of Exquisite Page turned out to be closed on Monday, as was my second choice, so she suggested the old familiar Terra Cafe. I had a lovely London Fog and the discussion flowed easily.
I learned along the way to the cafe that the Meet-and-Greet scheduled for FURR Louise for June 10 was actually a sight-unseen adoption, which makes me nervous with special needs cats and this one has been in my bedroom for two years and sleeping in my arms at night for at least six months.
I ate a small snack. From there I went to the gym, where Andrew– despite our schedules keeping us apart for a week– put me through a brutal workout, which really wasn’t that brutal but it felt brutal, reinforcing the idea that maybe my recent health problems are just a ramification of being 25 pounds overweight and out-of-shape.
And then I had a good old-fashioned fall on the way home. The kind that scraped my hands and bruised my thigh and chewed up the flesh of my shoulder. After a conversation with my Apple Watch, (“Looks like you had a hard fall.” “I fell, but I’m okay.”) I headed home, my pride more battered than anything else.
The Teenager made an enjoyable dinner and I had a Hostess cupcake. I could have finished the strawberry cream puffs from Sheetz. Those were surprisingly amazing.
By the time I took my shower, my wounds stung and my left hand was trembling. My heart rate and heart rate variability were low, my blood oxygen was 97% and my blood pressure was high. I decided to write a small blog entry, but when I opened my computer I saw a message from Gayle.
The content led me to believe that I sent her the wrong edited file of Larry Sceurman’s Coffee in the Morning, and so I opted to go to bed. When I woke this morning, I had received the truest of all motivational messages from Gayle.
DO NOT SECOND GUESS YOURSELF
So when I get home from work today, I’ll have to check the file. When I have more wits about me.
While normally my self-confidence wavers, Gayle’s right. I do not second guess myself. I move forward often boldly in a direction without worrying about the consequences.
I’m not sure I feel better today. That remains to be seen. I had strange dreams last night. A toilet falling over while I was using it. Having unexpected and messy female troubles. And my favorite– sitting next to my father after dinner at the table as we always did. He would be smoking his cigarettes and perhaps having a cup of coffee. The Teenager and my stepmom were sharing cheesecake as if nothing were wrong, and not offering me any. And then I realized that my father is dead, and that The Teenager and my stepmom didn’t see him. He was there just for me.
And once I realized that, he was gone, and all I had left in me was to weep.
I had fallen alseep last night with tears in my eyes. And I woke with Louise in my arms and tears in my eyes again, but this time, with the strength to face a new day.
Today I slept in until nearly 6 a.m., waking only when I heard The Teenager rise and leave the house for her dog walk client. I laid in bed until almost 6:20. To me, that is the ultimate laziness as I usually begin work at 6:30 a.m.
It’s been another delightful birthday day of celebration. I started the morning with breakfast with some of my Stitch Fix crew, with Southern Candy arriving at Big Papa’s early to bestow the table with some decorations.
There were cards and laughter and Southern Candy ordered her regular biscuits and gravy only to discover the biscuits were not biscuits but English muffins. So much commotion ensued of the giggling and carrying on sort, making jokes about what to call biscuits and gravy that does not contain biscuits, because English muffins with gravy sounds gross.
We had a discussion about making our own biscuits and bringing them and comparing making biscuits with shortening versus lard.
I ordered a spinach, green pepper and feta omelet hoping that the vegetables would help heal the damage done by my weekend of caffeine, sugar, fat and grease.
That might be too much to hope for as my blood pressure was 116/96.
The next item on the agenda was to take FURR foster tripod Louise to a meet-and-greet event at the Phillipsburg Petco, where she behaved like a trooper (even if she did spill her litter box so she could hide under it).
I was able to finish the last set of changes to Coffee in the Morning by Larry Sceurman on the laptop while chatting with another FURR volunteer to happens to be the only person I know eagerly and reliably waiting for my next novel.
I came home, cleaned up my room and finished Netflix’s Queen Charlotte, which, as all the Bridgerton tales do, has quite the sentimentality regarding love and relationships.
I also ate a rather large “elephant ear” with The Teenager that Little Dog’s mom had procured.
I’m off to check my blood pressure, take my evening meds, pack a lunch, and decide on dinner. But I just may allow myself a birthday beverage– as my birthday weekend officially launched with a gin gimlet with photography Joan and her other half, Randy.
Yesterday was my official birthday and the festivities exhausted me so heartily that I have waited until this morning to write about it. Since the medical establishment has not discovered rhyme or reason about my recent health issues, I made the decision earlier this weekend to eat what I felt like consuming, have a good time and return to my disciplined habits tomorrow.
Currently, I am sipping my peppermint coffee, while combating a vague lightheadedness and lower blood pressure and taking my beta blocker. I miss the robustness of my strong Supercoffee dark roast and had I known my blood pressure was low, I would have made some, but I feared it was high from my diet of Sheetz spicy chicken sandwich, jalapeno poppers and a premium sampler of salty fried snacks, pastries upon pastries, and sugary candy galore… because it was my birthday.
Little Dog stayed with us for a few days and her mother returned for her yesterday, bringing with her the largest pastry I have ever seen which I later discovered was an elephant ear and what I am eating now, which appears to be some sort of blueberry scone with a touch of lemon if I am not mistaken. But someone must tell whatever bakery Jan is visiting that the term “elephant ear” is not meant to be life size.
The Teenager wanted so terribly to take me for a nice meal of my choice, but I told her– you know what I want? Some decadent road trip snacks to eat on our way to Pocono Raceway for the Sports Car Club of America Road Racing Northern New Jersey Region Joe DeLuca and Linda Gronlund Freedom Major. (scca.com)
One of my high school peers works as an official at the track, so he invited the Teenager and I to come sit in the pits and watch as many classes as we wished and potentially stay for the cookout at the end of the day.
But I get ahead of myself.
The Writing Stuff
Little Dog and I slept in until a delightful 5:30 a.m. yesterday and then I copyedited the text for the next title in production for Parisian Phoenix Publishing. (We have 11 titles out now, one a tad delayed but due out as soon as we make the final tweaks, and this new one is #13, which since it is a tarot journal seems apropos.) Anyone who wishes to make my birthday even more exciting should consider buying one or several of our books. Here is the whole list on Amazon, including one book that’s not ours but shares a title and confuses the algorithm.
I finished the text of the tarot book, sent it to Gayle to mock up some design while we wait for the author to approve the text, and then headed to a meeting at Panera Bread with Larry Sceurman to retrieve his final proof on Coffee in the Morning. As it was my birthday, Panera gave me a free pastry after I already ordered my asiago bagel with chive cream cheese and Larry paid for my refreshments due to my day of birth.
I am happy to report that the changes to Coffee in the Morning are minor, and very good catches on the part of Larry and his wife, Barbara. The team spirit at Parisian Phoenix creates an atmosphere where we all really are putting our best foot forward and making sure we all look good in the end.
From there Larry and I attended the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group to surprise Darrell Parry, who was giving the morning presentation and afternoon workshop on poetry. I may have left with an invitation to be the October speaker and a nomination to serve as the group’s president. More on that here.
With my commitment to attend the races, I could not stay for the afternoon workshop. I went home and collected the Teenager and we drove over to Sheetz to gather our road trip snacks, redeem birthday points for gas ($2.92 a gallon) and head to Pocono Raceway with a Spotify playlist The Teenager carefully curated.
The Racing Stuff
I have not visited Pocono Raceway in 30 years. This area used to have two major racetracks, Pocono and Nazareth, and Darrell lived about a mile from the Nazareth track. It closed shortly after we graduated college, which is also damn near 30 years ago. I am not a NASCAR or Formula One fan, but my life tends to intersect with motorsports. My dad was a diesel mechanic known to race microstock, participate in tractor pulls and ride his Harley, anything to tinker with an engine.
When the Teenager was a year old, we went to the dirt track every Friday night to watch him race and when his racetrack closed, he told me not to attend his new venue as he deemed it too dirty and not family-friendly enough for the baby. I also have vague memories of going to drag races in New Jersey during my own childhood.
Once we found Bob and Erica up at Pocono, we settled in for our first class, Ford spec. Next came I believe a GT Lite class. Then the little min-formula one type cars with the small engines. The last class we saw was the Miata spec class, with three Minis and a Chevy Aveo sharing the track with them.
I definitely enjoyed the spec classes, as the cars are so similar that the race relies more on the prowess of the driver versus the classes where the cars have so many differences. In the mixed classes, the gaps between cars are much wider and that makes the race less interesting from a spectator perspective. The slow cars tend to be less interesting to watch also as they take so long to go around the track that you almost forget they are out there.
We stopped at Wawa on the way home for water and due to sale prices I ended up with fancy Hawaiian volcanic water for the same price as Deer Park.
And the special thank you goes to Santander Bank for making me feel ancient by sending me an email to remind me that my oldest account with them dates back almost 24 years and that they wish me a happy birthday.
Angel Ackerman 