Juice Recipe: Beautious Beet

Today was a day to eat the rainbow;  a green-colored juice, an orange-colored juice and a gorgeous raspberry-colored juice (which I am currently enjoying).   We've had spinach, kale, ginger, apples, carrots, sweet potatoes, a pineapple, oranges, coconut and celery.  Quite varied and quite delicious (if I do say so myself).  

Tonight's juice is another creamy one; a texture that satisfies the tummy.  And the color?  Well it couldn't be prettier.  Serve in a clear glass and add a straw for maximum enjoyment.  

Ingredients: (makes ~ two 20 ounce servings)

3 medium beets (including tops)

2 oranges, peeled

2 apples

2 stalks celery

4 carrots

A nub of ginger (approx the size of your thumb)

Rinse beets and celery well.  Slice apples to fit in juicer.  Juice all ingredients.  Serve and enjoy!

xo.  

Juice Recipe: Orange Julius

Our Orange Julius juice recipe has quickly become the family favorite.  It seems to take on whatever flavor you desire.  For me this juice tastes like, well, an orange julius.  Mr. Peculiar thinks it tastes like a peanut butter smoothie.  To each his own.

At any rate this juice has a gorgeous orange hue and a lovely creamy texture. It's chock full of vitamins (Vit A, Vit C, Calcium, Iron, Thiamine, Niacin and Postassium).

This juice tends towards the sweeter side and therefore makes a great introduction to juicing.

Makes two servings (~ 15 oz each)

Ingredients:
Two medium red garnet yams
5-6 carrots
3 medium oranges

Peel oranges.  Cut yams (leave skin intact).  Juice oranges, carrots and yams.

Serve and enjoy.

*** *** ***

Note:  If you are going to start juicing I recommend you either a) start a compost pile, b) get a worm bin or, my favorite, c) get some chickens.  You'll have lots of pulp leftovers that you won't want to waste.  My chickens are gobbling up our pulp and I can't wait to taste their vitamin enriched eggs.

xo.  

The long post in which I explain to you why I am subsisting on juice

For the past three days I've been on a juice fast.  That's right -- nothing but juice.  Mostly vegetables and some fruit.  I was inspired by Joe Cross and his film Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead.  Joe went on a sixty day fast and lost a significant amount of weight (nearly 80 pounds) But not only did he lose weight, he also weaned himself from his medication (he was taking prednisone for a rare auto-immune disease).

This struck a chord with me.   I have a poorly understood disease that may very well have an auto-immune component.   Medication is hit and miss at best.  And, honestly, I'm looking for a cure rather than something to mask my symptoms.

Then I came across another documentary -- Forks over Knives.  The creators of Forks over Knives have compelling evidence that a whole foods plant based diet can halt (and possibly reverse) a multitude of diseases from coronary artery disease and diabetes to breast and prostate cancer.

Would I?  Could I heal myself with food?

I've always known that food plays a role in health -- after all you are what you eat.  But I've been reluctant to change my diet (which was, in my mind, not particularly bad).  However I've also come to realize I like feeling good.  And if this is what it takes to feel good then so be it.

I bought my juicer from Bed, Bath and Beyond (don't forget your coupon).  There are two different kinds of juicers: centrifugal and masticating.  Masticating juices do a better job overall.  Masticating juicers are also more expensive.  I went with the less expensive centrifugal juicer (if it's good enough for Joe it's good enough for me).  I find that I can get more juice by running the pulp through once or twice after the initial juicing.  This is especially true for vegetables.

Honestly I've been enjoying the juicing thus far.  I started slow -- juicing for two meals and then eating a meal at night.  Then Monday -- full bore.  Well, not quite.  The hubby and I agreed that we'd allow ourselves coffee (cappuccino made at home with local goat's milk). For the first two days I had a small cappuccino in the morning and mid-afternoon.  Today I skipped the afternoon caffeine.  Baby steps.

Things we've noticed so far.  First and foremost my ear feels great.  I have very slight tinnitus, minimal hearing loss and no dizziness or balance issues (now this disease waxes and wanes so I can't claim any benefit here yet).  As for my husband -- today, day 3, he had no pain in his knees. He always has pain in his knees.  Yet today, while at work and going up and down stairs, no pain. Psychosomatic?  Maybe.  But he's a doubter and therefore I doubt it's psychological.

We've also both lost some weight -- him 5 pounds in three days.  Me -- 9 pounds in three weeks.  Not too shabby.  Am I hungry?  A bit.  Late afternoons/evenings are the hardest. Food smells SO GOOD!  Nonetheless the benefits are out-weighing the hunger.

I plan to juice for as long as I can (30 days?).  I'd still like to lose another 15 to 20 pounds.  When we are done juicing we plan to switch to a whole foods plant based diet -- lots of fruits, vegetables, nuts and legumes.  We'll continue to eat meat but in smaller portions.  I'm already careful to make sure our meat is from local grass fed sources (read Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food to find out why grass fed beef is better). 

I'm also going to reduce our gluten intake though not go completely gluten free (unless it becomes readily obvious we need to do so).  I'm pinning tons and tons of recipes in anticipation.

This fast will reset my weight and, I think, my taste buds.  I'm very much looking forward to seeing the end result.

Tomorrow I'll post recipes of a few of my favorite juices (thus far).

xo.

Strange days indeed ...

Well this has been an interesting week to say the least.  A close friend of mine has become ill and been diagnosed with bi-polar disease.  She is getting some long overdue help and for that I am tremendously grateful.

In fact I am grateful for a good many things.

• I am grateful for my messy house and my healthy kids.
• I am grateful for two vertigo free days -- days in which my presence was needed and I was able to provide.
• I am grateful for my husband who was "on-call" should I start spinning.
• I am grateful to my teenage son who is willing to go on errands with his mother.
• I am grateful to people who are willing to rescue, nurse and house a stray goat.
• I am grateful for the husbands who put up with these "goat people".  
• I am grateful for the wonderful haphazard lights on our Christmas tree -- they provide much needed cheer in these dark days (literal and figural).
• I am grateful for a quick weekend getaway. 
• I am grateful for friends; people who are willing to drop everything and help at a moment's notice. 
• I am grateful for forgiveness*. 
• I am grateful for love.  

* I am full of forgiveness -- for myself and my friend and all of us who are treading on this crazy path.  Perfection is over-rated.  

These are strange days indeed.  Most peculiar momma.  

xo. 

Meniere's Update

A lovely flower from a grateful client

I am back with another update on my meniere's disease.  Please forgive me.  I don't mean to blather on and bore you to tears.  But I need to keep a journal of my symptoms and the way my house functions a hard copy journal would disappear.  So bear with me.  Skip over this post if need be.  I'll be back with crafty updates soon.

Over the weekend I felt GREAT.  As in 100% normal.  As in I was a perfectly capable and well human being.  As in I could HEAR. This is also remarkable as I was in the midst of working (last week I logged 65 hours in seven days; three night shifts and two day shifts).  No tinnitus or dizziness or head fog.

Work was busy and I had a surgery to perform (a GDV on a dog).  I made an effort to appreciate the experience.  If this disease continues (especially if it worsens) I'll no longer be able to perform surgery.

Fast forward to Tuesday, my first day off work.  The tinnitus in my left ear returned (why does it always come back when I have days off?).

Then yesterday.  Yesterday Middle and I went to get allergy shots (I've been getting them for five years so this is nothing new).  After shots we went to pick Little up from dance class.  We were nearly there when my tinnitus increased.  Not only did it increase but I had it in both ears.  This seems to be my warning sign that a vertigo attack is impending.

I spent a good 30 seconds trying to convince myself I was imagining the tinnitus; that it was simply a sound my car was making.  Then I spent another 30 seconds inwardly chanting I will not have an attack, I will not have an attack.  Then I had an attack.

Fortunately we were nearly there.  I was able to pull over in the dance parking lot. The actual vertigo portion was relatively short-lived (maybe 45 seconds).  Middle went in to get Little and I sat in the car waiting to see what was going to happen next.  My head was foggy, I was a little off balance but felt okay so long as I didn't quickly turn my head from side to side.  I was able to drive home.

The upside?  No real nausea and no vomiting.  Seriously.  This is a very good thing.

Now, as I type, I feel slightly off balance (even though I'm sitting in a chair).  I again feel as if I'm on a boat -- swaying slightly back and forth.  Not like I'm going to fall over, just slightly off balance.

So here are the dilemmas (and there are a multitude of them).

•  Do I keep driving?  For now, for me, the answer is yes.  I seem to have fair warning before and impending attack and should be able to pull over.  Of course if I'm feeling particularly off balance then I won't drive.  If I start having drop attacks then driving might be out.  
• Do I allow other people's children in my car?  On a good day, a day without tinnitus,  yes.  When my ear is ringing - no.  It's just not a good idea.  
• Should I get a cell phone?  Yes.  I probably should.  There may be a time in the future when I need someone to come pick me up.  
• Was this caused by my allergy shots?  Who the heck knows.  Certainly the tinnitus preceded the injections but they could have pushed things over the edge.  Allergy shots are recommended for people with meniere's as it is thought to reduce overall body inflammation. 
• How is this going to affect my ability to work?  Thus far I've had one mild vertigo episode at work.  I was able to lay down and it passed.  If these episodes become more frequent and more severe they will be a problem.  If I'm having tinnitus and have to go into surgery I may have to have someone on call.  Someone to come in should things go south.  This doesn't make me feel particularly capable. 
• Can we save enough money to get us by should these attacks get worse?  Good question.  We certainly don't have that three months pay set aside (the amount of time until disability would kick in). 
• At what point would my disability insurance consider me disabled?  Now I am working and functioning.  But has this been sheer luck?  My attacks have happened mostly during my off hours.
• How much is work, and my schedule, affecting this disease?  I don't know.  I'm sure a lack of sleep does not help. 
• How long would it take and how difficult would it be to file a disability claim?  I have no idea.  I'm not ready to file a claim just yet but am wondering and worrying about the future. 
• When do I notify my disability insurance about an impending problem?  Again I have no idea.  

And there you have it.  More questions than answers. 

Tomorrow I have another doctor's appointment at the ENT.  This time with the meniere's specialist.  Truth-be-told I feel silly going.  There is not much they can do.  I'm capable of reading up on this disease on my own.  But, again, I want documentation should things get worse. 

For now I'll just appreciate things as they are.  Appreciate my ability to work.  Appreciate driving. Appreciate walking.  And it looks like that cell phone I've been wanting but haven't quite been able to justify is also in my future.  I'm going to have fun with that too.  

xo. 

Sorrow and Joy, Hearing and Sight

“We have no right to ask when a sorrow comes, 'Why did this happen to me?' unless we ask the same question for every joy that comes our way.”

~Unknown

We are camping. Okay, well not exactly camping. Rather we are glamping. The five of us are tucked into a tree house in Southern Oregon. Tonight was our first night and we found ourselves down by the main house without a light. In other words instant blindness finding our way back to our tree.

This sudden loss of sense makes one take pause. It makes one appreciate what one had before it was gone. This appreciation is even greater for me as I have recently lost another sense. The hearing in my left ear.

For the past couple of weeks my ear has felt clogged. Allergies I told myself. When conversations became hard I blamed it on the whirring laboratory machines at work, or the loud oxygen cage or the car engine or the crowd of people. I have been saying, "What?" and asking people to repeat themselves all too often. But it wasn't me.

I also blamed the phone. It must clearly must not be working because I CAN'T HEAR OUT OF IT. Then I switched ears. And I heard perfectly. It wasn't the phone.

I went to an ear, nose and throat specialist. I thought he'd find a ball of wax or some other simple solution. Truly I expected to walk out of his office with my hearing fully intact. Instead I left with a diagnosis of acute sensorineural hearing loss and a minimal chance of regaining function (i.e. damage to the inner ear and/or auditory nerve). Cause unknown.

Now I am on a course of high dose steroids and a prayer -- hoping that my hearing returns (my hearing isn't completely gone -- I'd say it's at 50%. I've lost the low frequency sounds; those which human speech is composed of. If you are dolphin its all good -- I can still hear you).

Next week I get an MRI just to make sure it's not tumor (thankfully typically benign) causing these problems.

So now I'm compiling a list of precious sounds. All those things I want to file should this hearing loss a) be permanent and b) move to the other ear. In no particular order ...

• My children laughing
• Crickets
• The first lawn mower of spring
• Ocean waves lapping at the shore
• The coo of mourning doves
• Chickens cackling
• U2, The Shins, Bagpipes, James, Norah Jones, Adele ...
• The crackling of a real wood fire -- full of hisses and pops
• Jingle bells

I've also always thought of deafness as silence. And for some perhaps it is. Not for me. I have a near constant ringing in my ear. Most prevalent when the world is silent. It's strange. And annoying. And something I suspect I'll have to get used to.

At this point time will tell. Will life go on and I'll adjust. But let me tell you. Appreciate what you have while you've got it. For tomorrow it (whatever it may be) could disappear.

xo.

Sex and Drugs

Boy will the perves be peeved when they find this post. Read on safely, read on - with one warning. A photo below may be too much for some young eyes. My kids? Been there, done that. They think it's hilarious. We don't coddle them much. Okay, you've been forewarned. Continue on.


I am allergic to juniper. No. Let me rephrase that. I am allergic to many, many, many things including juniper. Actually a better way to define my allergies is to say I am not allergic to mold. I am also not allergic to medications nor do I have known food allergies. Having said that I’ve had two cases of full body hives to which I can not attach a cause. Food may or may not be a culprit. And there are certainly times, especially after rich meals, when a bathroom becomes an absolute necessity. Things can move very quickly through the bowels. Enough said.

But, as far as environmental allergies are concerned, I am allergic to the world. And, yes, this list includes dogs, cats, rabbits, rats, mice and hamsters. Good veterinarian, good. Sit. Stay.

To counteract my allergies I take daily anti-histamine tablets and subject myself to allergy shots. I started getting four shots twice a week. I’ve been a compliant patient and have now graduated to three shots every two weeks. Lucky me! These shots have been helping a lot. My asthma is better. My allergies are much better. Then the juniper pollinated. Oh lawdy I am a stuffy, watery-eyed, snot-nosed mess.

This afternoon I needed help. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. I had to take all three kids to the dentist. So I stopped at a convenience store and went for the big guns - benadryl. Benadryl works. I can breathe. I can see. And I am wandering around in a fog. I set up a playdate for my daughter, she was to go to the neighbor’s house in fifteen minutes. I promptly forgot. Forty-five minutes later I remembered and she still got to play. But come on! Maybe it’s not the drugs. Maybe it’s early alzheimer’s.

I wish these trees would get a room already. Stop having your dirty dirty sex right in my front yard. I find yellow remnants all over my car! What has this neighborhood come to?

And speaking of neighbors. Remember my clothesline? My neighbors across the street do not have their own clothesline. But they elected to contribute to ours.



To be fair these boxer shorts were a gift from us after our trip to Italy. My neighbors went to Italy and all they brought me were these lousy boxers (actually we gave them grappa too - we do like our neighbors after all). And at least they put some laundry out on the line. I nearly peed my pants when I saw them out there, in the FRONT YARD, for all to see. We are trying to be environmental but we are not nudists. Really.

There has been an awful lot of sex in my yard. What’s a girl to do?

I'm a knittin'

The lovely Bella is organizing an auction in support of Jen B. who is battling colon cancer. Jen B. is one of the reasons I started my blog. The least I could do is knit a scarf and hat for the auction. Another site I frequent, Shutter Sisters, has suggested we sell our photographs to support Jen. Well, I happen to have a couple of simple prints sitting in my closet (this and this). I might as well put these up for auction too. I'll keep you all updated as the auction progresses.

++++++++++

The hub is at work and I have the night off. I'm watching Dancing with the Stars (which I'd never be able to do if he were home). I'm loving Marissa - how cute is she?!!! I want to sign up for dance lessons and buy a sweet little dress that flips when you spin. Clearly I need to add this to my list of things to do before I die: travel the world, learn another language, write a novel, learn the piano, and do the Mamba. Oh yeah, and clean my house. Don't forget the house.

++++++++++

I've figured out this cardiac monitor. The key is to feel the palpitations (which is easy since they are nearly constant), stay still for 90 seconds, push the record button and stay still for an additional 30 seconds. Then I transmit the signal over the phone. If I listen carefully to the phone transmission I can hear the palpitations as they are sent. Although my heart is beating abnormally I feel normal, no dizziness and only occasional pain. I am very optimistic that these are premature atrial contractions (PACs) which, although annoying, are typically benign. Perhaps I'm just more in tune with my heart than your average joe.

++++++++++

I am making the baby clean up a mess she made in the living room. She is screaming and I am a mean mean Mommy. I just keep knitting and ignore the evil eye from the 4-year-old. Perhaps I'm heartless after all.

Wired

Conversation with the cardiology nurse:

Me: "Um, hello, yes, I had a stress test on Tuesday and haven't yet gotten the results."

Nurse: "I have those in front of me. They are fine."

Me: "Great! I was assuming they were fine but it's still good to hear. And I have another question. I've been having multiple premature atrial contractions, at least I'm assuming they are premature atrial contractions, there were are few on my stress test ecg. And, it's my understanding that they, in and of themselves, are benign. But, the research also indicates that multiple PACs, especially greater than six in one minute, can lead to atrial flutter or fibrillation. So, do you think it is normal for me to be having these PAC's?"

Nurse: Silence

Me: "And, um, I've had a couple of episodes that may be flutter, only I don't know what flutter feels like but my heart can't quite decide how or when to beat."

(A side note here - the last time I had this type of episode I wanted to share it with someone - to prove I wasn't crazy. So, I had the hubbie feel my pulse while it was happening. He felt it then pulled his hand away like I was on fire. He started to cry. Aaaack. My intent wasn't to scare him but to share it with him. Clearly that didn't work out as planned.)

Nurse: "Flutter feels like a bird in your chest."

Me: "Okay. I don't know about a bird in my chest but it didn't feel normal to me."

Nurse: "Hold on a minute ..."

Nurse: "The doctor says that sounds like an entirely different problem. You can wear a monitor if you want."

Stupendous, an entirely different problem with the same vital organ. And if I want? Um hello! I'm not a cardiologist that's why I'm asking you!

Nurse: You wear it for several weeks. It's one where you are allowed to take a shower.

Excellent. I don't have to go an entire month without showering.

Me: "Um."

Nurse: "You don't have to decide now."

Flashback to husband crying.

Me: "Okay, I'll do it."

***********

Today I was fit with my new monitor. This afternoon I took my son's violin to get a string replaced. After climbing the stairs to the music shop I noticed a cord dangling from my shirt. Good thing I'm not an undercover agent:

Sydney: You will set up a meeting with Sark and Allison. You'll explain to them that their travel plans have been compromised. You'll then offer them assistance in revising their arrangements.

Sloane: And pass the information along to you.

Sydney: That won't be necessary. You'll be wearing a wire.

Sloane: And if they discover that it's a setup?

Sydney: Then I get to hear them kill you.

--Alias

********
This device only records "events" when I push a button. Then the box on my waist spends 45 seconds screaming like a fax machine on steroids. It documents the current tracing, as well as, the previous two minutes. The tracing is sent over the telephone for evaluation.


********
I'm afraid to make a tracing. I don't want to cry cardiac wolf. I don't want to record numerous insignificant events only to have a true problem ignored by a MedNet staff who is bored by my previously average tracings.


********
I came home and drank a beer at 2:30 pm hoping it would get my heart going. It did. I'm having the palpitations, the supposedly benign ones. I made one tracing. I've yet to send it in.

I'm Working on my Inner Zen

As a child I adored Doris Day. I’d hole up in the living room, snuggle under a blanket and dedicate entire afternoons to Doris marathons. This hermetic behavior confounded my mother. Doris Day was from her generation and therefore old-fashioned and passe. On the contrary I found Doris to be sweet, stylish, innocent, humorous and wise; certainly not passe. Consider, for example, her signature song:

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Does this advice not transfer to today? Is this not the essence of zen? To stop worrying about the future, tomorrow, the next minute or second? To accept, to live in the moment, to appreciate? Karen Maezen Miller put it best in her book Momma Zen; Walking the Crooked Path of Motherhood, “Zen is the direct realization, the incomparable experience of what is.” And on that same line, whatever will be will be.

+++++++++++

I’m working on my inner Zen. I have stacks of books on buddhism and meditation. I’ve listened to The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. I do yoga. And yet, I am not zen. I’m far from it. I’m a multitasking blockhead who can’t seem to sit still.

+++++++++++

Chest pain and palpitations sent me back to the cardiologist today for a follow-up ecg. My heartbeat was normal. He scheduled an echocardiographic stress test to rule out complications from my ablation but suggested self-induced stress may be causing the pain.

“It can’t be stress,” I told my husband, “I’m not a stressful person. Although my life is stressful I let it roll off of me. Plus, I have this week off work.” He muttered, “Uh huh” in that whatever kind of tone.

++++++++++++

I unloaded the dishwasher, did a load of laundry and vacuumed the living room despite an increase in chest tightness. No one had a gun to my head.

+++++++++++

I am sitting in my clean living room secretly pleased with my overachieving self. It’s nice. It smells good. It’s peaceful. But, it is not zen. Zen would be to sit, meditate and rest - in a messy room. I am not zen. At least not yet.

But part of being Zen is accepting ourselves just as we are; even if we are mutli-tasking blockheads with heart palpitations. So, I am sitting here, in my clean room and accepting that right now I’m doing what I need to do. Tonight I’m skipping the meeting at the elementary school. My husband is in charge of dinner (mmmm Thai). The baby will play at the neighbor’s house instead of the girls playing here.

And, I am accepting this crazy beating of my heart. Each time it jumps out of my chest, each time it reverberates up my neck, it is a little hello; a reminder that I am still here, my heart is still beating. And it is a reminder that this is what is really important. Que sera sera.

I've Been Ablated!

(Technological wizard that I am I couldn't figure out how to get
this photo from my phone to the computer.
Bonus points to those who figure out how I did it.)

I have been ablated! All went well. I want to thank everyone for their thoughts and prayers! Thank you, thank you! Before my procedure I searched the web for accounts of other people’s experience but didn’t find much. So, I thought I’d recount my experience here.

The night before I had a hard time sleeping and spent a good portion of it tossing and turning; dreaming about cardiac catheters, pace-makers and a sore groin. In retrospect I should have taken a sleep aid. Ah, what I didn’t know. Now I know better.

Anyway, my son had to leave for school early so I got up at 6:30 am to say goodbye. He gave me a big hug and I hassled him about the length of his hair. I didn’t want to worry the kids and was trying to keep things light. My husband took him to school. We got the girls up next and dropped middle daughter off with the promise she could visit me after school. Then off to the hospital for a 9:00 am check-in.

Mine was the second ablation of the day; the first person had to check in at 6:00 am. The hubbie took the four-year-old to the hospital coffee shop while I started paperwork. My insurance was approved at the last minute negating the need for a financial waiver (this is not an inexpensive procedure - I’m expecting the total bill to run around $20,000.00 pre-insurance). After checking in the nurse and I walked to the emergency department with a side trip through the lobby to retrieve the hubbie and daughter. Apparently the ER was close to the catheter lab and they had available gurneys. I got to strip down to nothing but socks and don a lovely hospital gown; and who doesn’t want to walk around the emergency department with no underwear and an open gown? All the better to gawk at you my dear. Fortunately the ER was quiet.

An IV catheter was placed in my arm and my pulses were located on my feet and marked with an ink pen- my daughter got to help with this. They let me keep on my wedding band. Then I answered a series of questions including whether or not I had an advanced directive and if I had a living will - questions which brought tears to my eyes but that I tried to hide for my daughter’s sake. And no, I didn’t have an advanced directive. Thanks to Terry Schiavo this is big hospital talk. But that’s not how I’d like to get my fifteen minutes - pull the plug already! Apparently I should have this in writing.

I also had the privilege of explaining when my last menses was, when the last time was that I had sex and no, I was not pregnant. They asked if I wanted a pregnancy test. No, I said, I was not pregnant. OK - will you sign a waiver? Yes, I’ll sign a waiver. So, you’ll sign this waiver stating you are not pregnant. Yes, I’ll sign the waiver. Okay.

We watched kid shows on public television until the doctor finished with his first procedure. Then it was my turn. At 10:30 am they wheeled me past the main lobby and into the catheter lab. Heeeellllooo every one in the lobby! Do you like my gown? Yes, yes it is quite fetching isn’t it? My family got to spend their remaining wait time with the others in the lobby discussing the fashion choices of the patients or something along those lines.

In the catheter lab I was transfered to another gurney. And who doesn’t want to sit in a room full of people adorned in an open threadbare gown? It’s something akin to dreams of being naked in public only this is real life. The room was cold, really cold. Thank God for the socks. Two large sticky pads (for defibrillation should it be necessary) were placed on my back. A lead mat was placed on the gurney under my abdomen since I was still of childbearing age. No, I was not pregnant. And yes, I did sign a waiver. My gown was pulled up and pulled down leaving a small strip over my belly. Did I mention it was cold? They also taped a small towel (think washcloth) folded into thirds between my legs to provide a modicum of privacy. Um yeah, I’m pretty much already humiliated here. I appreciate the effort but really, at this point who are we kidding? My groin was shaved and scrubbed (my legs are still stained blue). A third large rectangular sticky pad was placed on my chest between my breasts. As the nurse put it, “women have more bumps, this pad doesn’t want to stick.” Finally she managed to adhere it to my chest. Twelve ecg leads were stuck all over my front; on my shoulders, under my boobs, on my belly. Then they pulled out the restraints. My arms were tied at the wrists to the table, as they explained, for my own good. I was not to worry; the restraints were to be removed as soon as I was awake. Although naked and tied to a table in a room full of people I was glad for the restraints. I did not want to be responsible for my sedated self.

And, speaking of sedation, it was finally time for happy drugs. I was given fentanyl and another drug (the name of which I have already forgotten). The doctor came in and the crew started talking about New Belgium Brewing Company. My overnight bag was from New Belgium and had traveled with me to the catheter lab thus sparking the discussion (when your husband is a brewer you come with brewing paraphenalia - even to the hospital).

I became acutely aware of the ceiling. It was a dropped acoustic tile with metal bands. The metal bands were moving. Only there was a spot on one of the bands. Every time the movement got to the spot it stopped. Clearly the sedation was taking effect. I’m grateful I didn’t see babies crawling overhead (can anyone say Trainspotting?). The procedure took nearly three hours yet I only have flashes of memory. I remember the nurse giving me additional sedation. I remember staring at an x-ray picture of my heart with the catheters in it. I remember staring at my ecg. And, I remember the doctor asking, “is she awake?” Then saying, “I think we got it.” They pulled the catheters embedded in the right and left side of my groin which caused some mild discomfort. Then I piped in, “my favorite New Belgium Beer is their 1554 dark ale.” Brilliant. Did I ask about my heart? No. Did I ask about my family? No. I decided to discuss beer. All righty then. They took off the restraints because clearly I was lucent, transferred me to another gurney via a backboard and wheeled me off to the cardiac ward.

Apparently my hubbie and daughter met me in the lobby and walked me up to my room. This I do not remember. The sedation came with a healthy dose of amnesia (in case your could not tell from the account of my procedure). My job for the next four hours was to keep my legs perfectly still. My family went home to rest and I spent the first hour reading a book of which I will have to re-read; can you say amnesia? Then I slept. Once I turned my foot. Nothing catastrophic happened. Periodically people were in and out of the room to check to my groin and vitals. I was wearing a portable cardiac monitor which was feeding info to the nurse’s station. After I woke up I found it entertaining to push the button on my monitor and watch my ecg float past. My resting heart rate was in the 80’s; improved from the 90’s on admittance. The beats appeared to have a normal rate and rhythm. Now, as I write, I am having palpitations but have yet to have another bout of tachycardia (are your fingers crossed?). Palpitations can be normal as the cardiac tissue heals. I wish I still had the monitor on so I could see what my heart was doing.

After four hours I was permitted to get up and move about the room. And what a room I had. It was huge! They could have easily fit four beds in the space. There were floor to ceiling windows with mountain views. The room was painted a soothing light yellow and standard issue nature prints adorned the walls. It felt more like a hotel than hospital. And what does one expect for $20,000.00 a night?

My groin was sore but not nearly as painful as I anticipated. My chest felt fine. On a pain scale of 1 to 10 I’d give the procedure a 2.5; childbirth is an 8.5. I hope to never experience a 10. I was given a percocet for pain but could have easily had just tylenol.

The family came to visit - the hubbie and all three kids. They drew me pictures on the dry erase board in the room, ran about and started fighting over something silly. Ah, back to normal. Finally the hubbie took them home so as not to disturb the other cardiac patients.

After being sedated most of the day and sleeping it off in the afternoon I had trouble falling asleep that night. My doctor prescribed a dose of ambien. I’d never had ambien before. I did not know what to expect. Oh lawdy! Fifteen minutes after taking it I was out; sound sound asleep. I was, however, rousable for periodic checks of my vitals and groin. I haven’t slept that well in a long long time. Hmmmm - makes one think. But I’d also rather not get caught sleep driving...

The next morning, yesterday, I got to go home. No medication needed other than tylenol. There was, is, minimal bruising of my groin. I have some mild discomfort in my chest. I find it is best not to turn upside down. I discovered this while attempting to blow dry my hair yesterday. I think I will stay upright for a few days. Overall I feel great. Yesterday I even managed a slow shuffle around CostCo. I am not supposed to lift heavy objects for 48 hours. But, that’s what husbands are for, right?

On discharge the hospital’s policy is to wheel everyone out. My volunteer wheelchair driver must have been in his eighties. He was sweet and hard of hearing. It felt very strange to have him push me out when I was capable of walking on my own.

Oh, and I didn’t mention it yet because it is hardly worth mentioning. Hospital food is, well, hospital food. Stick with the basics - milkshake, waffle, coffee. (Yup - they let me drink coffee!)

So, that was my experience with cardiac ablation. Only time will tell if it was truly successful. I am happy to answer any questions should anyone be curious.
Happy weekend to you!

Yoga Friday

Today’s a yoga day; something I manage twice a month. Bi-monthly yoga does not get me into shape. Rather it’s just enough to remind me I’m out of shape. I’m doing yoga to be healthy; to feel energetic and alert. But, I’ll admit it, I’d love to have a yogi body. Yogis are fit. They have muscles - beautiful muscles! (I’ve had a muscle infatuation since visiting the Body World exhibit. The shear beauty and strength of a skinned human is amazing.) My own musculature is deeply embedded beneath a protective layer of fat. I’d like to get to know those guys under there - the ones between the bones and subcuticular tissue. Hello! I know you're there - somewhere. I don’t want a jacked up anabolic body; a young Arnold Schwarzenegger with a pony tail. No, I want a long lean strong body; a yogi body.

Right now I'm tired all the time. It’s hard to get going in the morning. I shlump in the afternoon. How different would I feel with daily exercise? Daily yoga? I know I’d eat better; I always do when on an athletic binge. I move towards foods that give me energy. I eat less sugar. I drink more water and less alcohol. Coffee becomes a smaller staple. I feel better, inside and out.

And, really, I still think of myself as an athlete; the one who played varsity tennis, the varsity swimmer, the lifeguard. It’s hard to reconcile that person with the one in the mirror. Where did I go?

It seems I went to Mommy Land. Mommy Land is much different from Neverland (and I mean Peter Pan not Micheal Jackson!). Mommy Land is a place for self-deprecating middle-aged workaholics who forget they, too, are important. But today is a yoga day; a hall pass to escape screaming toddlers and messy houses. When the class is through I will take a moment to thank myself for doing good things just for me.

And tomorrow? Well, maybe I’ll go to yoga tomorrow too.

Happy Friday Everyone!

Matters of the Heart

Today I’m having blood work done. It’s in preparation for a cardiac ablation next week. You see, I’ve been having trouble with my heart - something called AV nodal reentrant tachycardia (AVNRT). Essentially, an extra pathway exists between the atrial and ventricular regions of my heart. Premature beats lead to erratic electrical impulses which circle through this pathway causing a rapid heart beat. I can be sitting in my chair, calm and relaxed, and suddenly my heart rate will jump to 200 beats per minute. I have no idea what triggers it. I know stress plays a role. But these episodes don’t always occur during times of stress. I’m supposed to be avoiding caffeine, alcohol and illegal stimulants (damn - no speed for me). But, avoiding caffeine is 1) not practical (decaf and night jobs don’t go well together) and 2) not curative. Plus my medication seems to be doing little other than giving me dizzy spells. So, my cardiologist (actually, he’s an electrophysiologist) is going to thread a catheter through my femoral vein and into my heart. He will find that aberrant pathway and zap those cardiac cells into oblivion. All that and a night’s stay in the hospital. What a lucky gal am I?!!


The procedure is relatively routine (at least for the specialist who performs it) and complications are few and far between. But complications can occur. Do you ever listen to the fast talking fine print on drug commercials? Complications include rare but serious side effects including infection, bleeding, deep vein thrombosis, acute need for a pacemaker and, oh, on very rare occasions, death. And there it is - death. A pacemaker I can live with. But death? Probably not.


Truth be told I have a greater chance of dying in a car wreck on the way to the hospital. But I've been in a car before. This is my first (and hopefully last) ablation. And , safe as it may be, that word - death - looms out at me; it floats above me like a Charlie Brown cloud ready to pour at a moment’s notice. Death. The cloud of death. I’m watching that cloud. I see it out of the corner of my eye. It knows I know it’s there. And I’m keeping it at bay. I don’t want to be drenched in public. Really, I don’t want to be rained upon at all.


And then there are matters of lesser importance; the death of my dignity. These people are putting a catheter into my leg; my inner thigh. Of all the places to have a team of people this is not one of them. I already did that for the birth of my children. I’d rather not do it again. I have visions of bumping into the ablation team after my procedure - probably downtown, someplace with lots of people. The team will see me. They’ll whisper and giggle. As I get closer they’ll start to chant, quietly at first then louder and louder. “She has cheesy thighs, she has cheesy thi-highs!” Second grade all over again - only with slightly different insults.


And there is yet another matter to contend with. When is my period? I don’t know. I’m not an obsessive menstrual documentarian who marks the date on the calendar each month. It happened sometime last month. I’m pretty sure it’ll happen again sometime this month. But pulleese not next week! I’ve made a deal with the universe. If I can start my period this week then I will document it faithfully from now on. I’ll even chart it with the pull of the moon if that is what it takes.


Indeed the universe may be listening. I’m feeling some menstrual twangs; those early abdominal signals of what’s to come. And that’s a good sign, right? It means the cosmos is on my side. It’s got me covered. And if menstruation is covered, well it stands to reason that the rest is too. So, I’m going shoo the cloud away, get my blood work done and get on with the rest of my day.

Don't forget to check out Love Thursday at Shutter Sisters! Today's photo inspiration courtesy of lizgrandmaison over at Flickr.