Since the last blog post, I’ve had my right hip replaced, resulting in a lung clot and bleeding that required four units of blood and a stay in ICU. Recently, I finally had that pesky tricuspid valve replaced and developed pneumonia while in the hospital. I was intubated several times. Because intubation can be damaging to the esophagus, the surgeon cut a tracheostomy in my throat. Apparently, I was very bad post surgery, trying to karate my way out of ICU, and pulling out various gadgets attached to me. One doctor told me they took care of this behavior with some good drugs! I was in INOVA Fairfax Heart and Vascular Center! First in ICU and then Telemetry. The nurses were so very good at their jobs and friendly, too. But since I had a trach, I couldn’t eat or drink food or water. I was fed “food” (formula for adults),crushed meds, and water through an NG tube, This was the hardest part of my hospital stay. People always malign hospital food, but INOVA’s is very good! I was bereft.
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Parking, heart health, and the self.
This morning, I entered the parking lot of Mount Vernon Hospital as I usually do, and cruised for a spot. Normally I find one after a bit of looking. Not today! One of my pet peeves, the huge SUV's that have exciting names--"Explosion" for example--were cruising with me, blocking me, backing up to go another way, and generally being too gigantic for such a small lot. There were small cars, too, that would drive in and catch someone leaving, but I'd be on the other side of the lot! I'm thinking, "I've been cruising here for twenty minutes and you just come in and steal a spot out from under me?" I got mad and thought of giving up and going home, but I didn't really want to. I even prayed for a parking space Finally, I called the rehab gym to ask what I should do. The nurse told me to try the street. Now I am rehabbing after a month-long stay in the hospital for open-heart surgery and resulting pneumonia. I never drive to street parking and walk
Medical Advice about Fentanyl and Haldol: Don't laugh. It might come to you.
My BIG MEDICAL MESS was about this: I had my hip replaced in Georgetown Hospital, and they kept me one night, shifting me to I NOVA Fairfax, Telemetry Unit, which was my home hospital. There they found a pulmonary embolism, started pumping me with blood thinners (Heparin, to be specific) and found that my hemoglobin was dropping like a stone. The trick was to thin my blood without driving me into hemorrhagic shock. In spite of their efforts, I fell into it, anyway. INOVA Fairfax they saved my life again. The first time was almost three years ago when they brought me out of cardiogenic shock , something people survive 50% of the time. Both times I was a guest in CICU, or Cardio Intensive Care. The hip was still in "screaming pain", as my friend, Jeanne calls it from experience, but after they allowed me out of bed (I did get really good at bedpans), and I had physical therapy, which is God's gift to all of us, I was finally transferred to a state-of-the-art intensive re
Don't be Perturbed! Try Perturbation Therapy
Don't be Perturbed! Try Physical Therapy I just read this article about perturbation training. It is basically that you train in doing a balancing exercise with unexpected challenges. Without knowing it, I had some of this training when I first joined Gold's Gym, some years ago. My trainer had me stand on a bosu ball, and while I was jogging in place, he would throw a ball to me to catch. It was tough, and I didn't always stay on the ball, but it was a graduate course in balance. I loved training at the gym, but since my heart transplant in October, 2018, and then hip replacement in July of this year, I have been being a good girl (as I should be), going carefully, slowly. My transplant team forbids gym attendance, because of the virus. Imagining walking into the gym with a KN95 mask and hand sanitize and checking in has been a constant daydream lately. I would walk over to the "guys' side", which is theoretically for everyone, and do my routine. As it is,
How it has been going since transplant.
I am two years, five months out of my heart transplant. My life is far different than it was before. At first I found things to do, driving to have lunch with friends, going to pick up my sweet grandson from child care once a week for a "date". Going to the gym to see my trainer, working hard. Realizing that getting back in shape would be more of a stretch than it was getting there in the first place! This was pure bliss. Then there was COVID. I could go outside, but couldn't drive anywhere that ended up inside, like the Safeway, Sherwood Hall Library, or to my daughter's house. The only place I went was to the transplant center, and that was a big outing! During that time, I fainted several times, once outside my house. Standing on the driveway, I thought I was at a delightful garden party, until I hit the pavement. A woman was walking past our house. I could see her alarm, then hesitation about coming over to help. She had on a mask, and I didn't. Even when a
It has been almost a year since I had a procedure. As I stop my car, this procedure comes to mind. When I walk, it comes up in my memory unbidden. I find myself getting angry at myself sometimes because my mind is slower, or my body is slower, than they used to be. "Getting old, Gail", I think to myself. Then I think of the procedure. It was, basically, a bomb going off in my life. A year ago, October 5, 2018 to be exact, I had a heart transplant. I was suddenly very, very sick. I had had lung issues, and was seeing a pulmonologist, for about a year. No matter what he did, what therapy I used, I still could barely breathe. I still was tired, and SOB (no, not that. Short of breath). Finally, I went to a follow-up appointment with him. Before he even could examine me, I vomited and staggered, and was ordered to lie down. The doctor hit a device on the wall, and tersely talked into a receiver. An ambulance was ordered, and the EMT's came quickly. Every time I tried to si
My heart transplant experience
"You can't say no to me. I'm on Anti-rejection meds!" It has been almost a year since I had a procedure. As I stop my car, this procedure comes to mind. When I walk, it comes up in my memory unbidden. I find myself getting angry at myself sometimes because my mind is slower, or my body is slower, than they used to be. "Getting old, Gail", I think to myself. Then I think of the procedure. It was, basically, a bomb going off in my life. A year ago, October 5, 2018 to be exact, I had a heart transplant. I was suddenly very, very sick. I had had lung issues, and was seeing a pulmonologist, for about a year. No matter what he did, what therapy I used, I still could barely breathe. I still was tired, and SOB (no, not that. Short of breath). Finally, I went to a follow-up appointment with him. Before he even could examine me, I vomited and staggered, and was ordered to lie down. The doctor hit a device on the wall, and tersely talked into a receiver. An ambula