title explained
Saturday, March 19, 2022
Monday, February 28, 2022
I promised I would post something in this blog every Sunday. That didn't last very long. It is hard to post when I am just angry at everything. I have noticed that my lips are pressed together most of the day. When I see myself in the mirror, I look like a grouchy, old woman--I guess mirrors don't lie.
I had an appointment with an electrical physiologist--to discuss the results of my heart monitor test and talk about Pace Makers. My daughter Karen wasn't home so my sister and BIL offered to drive 25 miles down here to take me and my sister would go in the room with me and take notes.
The appointment was at 2:40. It started icing up at 2:00 and snowing by 2:30. BIL brought his truck for the bad weather and I had a deuce of a time trying to get up on the seat.
We got there, the electrical guy came in, told me my heart monitor test was fine...that I didn't need a Pace Maker--probably never would and come back to the Cardiologist in six months.
COULDN'T HE HAVE DONE THAT THROUGH A PHONE CALL???
It took sister and BIL over an hour to get home!
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The next week Tuesday, I had an appointment for a CT scan with contrast on my left Kidney. Karen took me.
I had an ultra sound on my Kidney's end of October. everything was fine. . I had a CT scan on my abdomen early November when I was in hospital, everything, including Kidney's was fine. The second time I was in hospital, end of November because of my fall, I had a contrast CT scan on my innards and they found a teeny something on my left Kidney. So I had to have this new scan.
I was told to be there an hour early, because I had to drink Barium. Why would I have to drink that for a Kidney scan. We got there an hour early and finally at 10 after 3:00--the appointment was for 3:30, Karen asked the nurse when I was going to get the "drink".
"Oh--your Mom doesn't have to drink anything. You only needed to be here 15 minutes before your appointment."
ARGGH!
So in I went. They popped an IV line in my arm--OUCH--I hate those things. They took 3 passes without the contrast, then warned me I would feel warm all over and think I had to pee, and did 3 pases with the contrast. I love the contrast--like how it makes me all warm inside.
The Tech came in, removed the IV, asked me how I felt and because I was feeling relief because it was over, I smart mouth replied, "That's the closet I've come to an orgasm in 20 years!"
She looked at me...old, skinny, wrinkled up woman and then she burst into laughter. Every thing had been very professional until my comment. I probably won't be able to go back there again.
The test results revealed, a 1cc cyst--BENIGN--get it scanned again in 4 years.
=======================
So there is nothing seriously wrong with me. All my innards are working just fine. I should be happy and relieved, but I fell again the other day...landed on the cat food station which sent water and dry cat food up into the air and down onto me. I had to butt-walk across the kitchen floor, with hard, dry cat food embedding itself into my bare hind end--as I only had my nightie on--to get to my recliner where I could get on my knees and pull myself up onto the seat.
All because of this dang dead-foot.
Thursday, February 3, 2022
I am not a spontaneous
person. I like to know who, what, where
and when and make a plan for that time frame..
I love schedules. I suppose,
growing up on a dairy farm, where schedules were kept—no matter what, has
caused me to be like this. Cows had to
be milked 12 hours apart. I don’t care
if it was the birth of your first child or the deathbed vigil for your
father. When it was milking time—you
were in the barn, milking cows.
The first year of the
pandemic didn’t throw me off too much, I was still mobile. I still had my schedule of chores around the
house to do. Certain jobs on certain
days and I could do 2 or 3 chores in a day—dusting, vacuuming, washing down
counter tops, working in the garden.
Then I got this dang
drop-foot, along with balance issues, and there are some chores I just can’t do
anymore. I am an independent person, I
could take care of myself—until the drop-foot. This has rattled me and made me
feel very unsettled
So, over the weekend, I
decided which chore I could adapt to fit my condition and make a schedule. I knew that I could only do one major chore a
day, so I made an Excel spreadsheet (that’s part of the OCD I have) and made a
schedule for each day with one chore. I
call it my BIG CHORE Day.
Today, I dusted. I can do quite a lot of it sitting on the
seat of the Rollator. The higher shelves
and stuff, I rest one hand on the Rollator for balance and use my right hand to
work with. Then I wiped down the kitchen
counters, using my legs braced against the lower cupboards.
I can still bend over to
feed the cats and clean up their litter box and put dirty dishes in the
dishwasher for a future wash and I have no problem emptying the dishwasher—I
haul the dishes from the dishwasher, resting on the Rollator seat, to the
varying cupboards where they belong.
The same way with
laundry…I load a load of dirty clothes into the bag under the seat of the
Rollator and wheel them out to the washer.
When they are done drying, I sit on the seat of the Rollator, easily
reach in to the very back of the dryer, and fold them or put them on hangers
and then wheel them back into the bedroom.
I feel a lot better
emotionally, working from the schedule and knowing there are still things I CAN
do. I have to stay as independent for as
long as I can.
Monday, January 24, 2022
I watch a couple of cross stitchers who have their own You Tube channels. I think these women are nuts!!!
Friday, January 14, 2022
I keep telling myself that I am going to start blogging on a regular basis and yet...I think many of us are now on FB and post there about our raves and rants and are too tapped out to have anything cogent to blog.
On December 19th, we had our family Christmas up at The Farm, as so many generations before us...same house...where my sister lives. Not all my grands could be there, not all my children, but all my greats were present.
Two days before Christmas I was fitted with a heart monitor that I have to wear until the end of January. Nowadays, they have a small transistor kind of sensor that sticks on my chest and sends heart beats and any kind of irregularity, to a small monitor that looks like a smart phone. They are checking to see if my heart goes into AFib. So far no irregular beats noticed.
Then on January 5th, Karen's youngest Madeleine gave birth to another son. She decided to have a home birth...two midwives brought in a large tube--like a hot tub without the jets, and Madeleine delivered the baby herself! Labor took 4 hours. Karen was there to encourage.
(Aside...I don't get how women do this. I didn't even want to watch my own kids being born..."Take that slimy baby over there, clean him up, put a diaper on him, wrap him in a blanket and THEN bring him over here for a snuggle and bonding." I did not witness either of my girl's giving birth.) Karen said because it was so calm and quiet, she felt a certain spiritual serenity about it all.
Niklaus Adeodatus Loretto Caspar John Stefan Gaudete von Buelow
Benedikt Leonel Lourdes Aquinas Anton Dominic Athanasius von Buelow
Why all the names you ask? I have asked the same. Daddy Stefan comes from a family of 7 boys--Very traditional, German Catholic family and that is just the way they do it. We call the oldest Bennie and I suppose this one will be Nick or Nickie?
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"If you can't do it. Adapt it."
I've been doing a lot of that lately. So many things I can't do anymore with these mobility issues, but I am learning tricks to get things done with my Rollator walker.
In the morning, I put a dishtowel on the seat of the Rollator, get the wet cat food into two feeding dishes, fill up their dry food and water dish and roll it over to their feeding mat. Thankfully, I can still bend over to put the dishes down on the mat.
So I don't have to bend over and reach so far back into the dryer, I sit on the seat of the Rollator, which puts me on a level where I can get the clothes out of the dryer, fold them, or put them on a hanger and then get up, lay them on the Rollator and walk them into the bedroom to put away.
I can easily dust tables, entertainment/fireplace and even lower book shelves while seated on the Rollator. and yesterday, I found I could vacuum this office space, while seated.
It took 45 minutes of moving stuff, vacuuming, moving stuff back, vacuuming, either seated in my desk chair or the Rollator...10 whole feet of carpet, but I got it done!
"If you can't do it. Adapt it."
There is a warning, "DO NOT MOVE ROLLATOR WHILE SEATED" or I'd be using it like a wheel chair. I suppose they are worried about the contraption collapsing?
===================
I am waiting for January to get over with and then will get back into physical therapy. Right now, our (Michigan) Omicron numbers are the highest in the United States and my grandchildren doctor's, who work in ICU in a hospital on the west side of the state, tell me that the hospitalizations are higher than they've ever been. I figure if I stay in my house, I have little chance of picking up a bad buggie.
The same as last winter--hibernating until the worse is over and then peeking my nose out of my den.
If you can't do it. Adapt it.
Wednesday, December 1, 2021
4weeks ago--Nov. 7th--11th
I’ve felt rotten for a few weeks. I had seen the Cardiologist P.A. on Oct. 21,
and they added a new BP med to lower my BP.
I told them that I thought it was already low enough, as I was having
feelings of light headiness.
So last Saturday, I sat in my chair all day and watched
football games. Sunday morning I woke up
and felt so weak and faint. I took my BP
and saw it was 92/45—and my heart rate was 140.
Usually I can feel a high heart rate in my neck, but I couldn’t feel
this.
I decided I had better call 911. I knew I had to let my sister know, but at that moment, I couldn’t remember
even how to use the phone to get her number.
Someone said, “Why would you post that on FB?”
Well, I knew my sister would see it that way. Like I said I was, “out of it”.
When I got to the ER, my BP was 89/38—they wondered how I
was still conscious…AND I was in active AFib.
High heart rate and it was tap dancing all over the place—140 to 100 to
150 to 108.
My daughter-in-law had thankfully seen the FB post and
texted my sister and daughter’s. My
daughter Jennifer, way out in New Jersey, called two of the local hospital’s
until she found me and called the ER department and insisted she talk to
me. I did not have my cell phone with
me—never even thought about it.
The ER was full—all beds taken and people waiting in the
waiting room to get in. After 12 hours
of laying there, they finally had a bed open up on the “heart” floor and I was
admitted.
I had gone through this AFib nonsense 6 years ago and the
med they gave me then had worked just fine, until the Cardiologist decided to
stop it and put me on 3 different ones.
BTW—I have a new cardiologist
now.
So, back on the original med—Metoprolol—to get the BP
stabilized and then a cardioversion yesterday morning. That’s where they shock
the heart and it goes back into normal sinus rhythm—takes about 20 minutes from
start to finish, no big deal—I had it 6 years ago.
I did have fun in the hospital—with me, the more concerned I
get, the more I joke around, so the nurses/techs/residents, thought I was their
comic relief for the week. Of course, I
knew what to expect. One MD told me,
“You are the most knowledgeable patient I have ever treated.” I wanted to reply, “Yeah Doc. The better to know so you can’t kill
me!” But I didn’t say that. Like I said, I actually had fun and if it
weren’t for their insistence to poke needles in me to check blood levels, it
would have been a lot more fun.
So—end result. They took away 4 BP meds and kept me just on the Metoprolol, which had worked so well for 6 years and 2 months and sent me home. I’m fine. Worn out of course. Back hurts from laying in that hospital bed, but no heart flutters, which is a good thing.
===========================
Last Sunday-yesterday
First of all, if someone tells you that COVID is still
rampant—believe them. I just got home
from a hospital with over 500 beds—about 75 beds per floor—and they have 3
floors devoted to COVID patients only, plus over flow in their Emergency
Department Trauma Center…about 250 COVID patients.
Adventure 2.0: I had
been feeling so dizzy and tired. I
thought it was because my BP was high, than low and all over the place…not so
and not related to what I was in hospital for Nov. 8-11th.
I was short of breath on Saturday, Nov. 27th, but
there was an important football game on TV, so I decided to get through the day
and if I didn’t feel better, to call Sunday morning. I woke up at 2:00am Sunday morning, fighting
to breathe. If I sat upright in my
chair, it was easier, so I sat in my chair, trying to nap for the next few
hours. I wasn’t going to call anyone in
the middle of the night nor early Sunday morning, so at 8:30, when I realized
that I needed to get help, I just posted a quick FB post, knowing that my DIL
or sister would see it and text the other kids, by then, I was shaking so hard
that I couldn’t have made a phone call to anyone and have to explain—911 was
the best I could do.
It took the ambulance guys about 8 minutes to get here and
determine that I should go “in”, I fought hard once again to have them take me
to the “small hospital” in Howell, rather than the Main hospital 35 minutes
away—where they wanted to take me. I won
the battle and we arrived at a once again, over loaded ER—people in beds all
along the wall, every ER room full. They
did a chest x-ray and came in to tell me they were transporting me down to the
“mother ship” big hospital—as the hospital in Howell is a satellite hospital. Never been in an ambulance before and now I
got 3 rides in 3 weeks!
We arrived there an hour later, into a bigger ER department
with an over-flow in their new Trauma Center—all the rooms there were full with
17 of us on beds along the wall. The
next few hours are kind of a blur—bright lights—noisy—so much activity. They did take me for a chest scan and by
midnight, I was in a room “upstairs”.
More people coming in to check me out—vitals and then at 2:00am, some
doc prescribed that liquid LASIX be put in my IV line. Lasix—a water pill, at 2:00 am? I felt so bad for my nurses and tech, because
I had to pee every half hour and they had to help me to the bathroom. I told them I could manage with the walker,
but “hospital policy” says…….and they had snuck an alarm pad into my bed, where
if I got up, because of course, I tried it…loud alarms sounded and 2 quite
large, male techs showed up, scolded me and told me they were required to help
me to the bathroom. GEEZ!
Monday was a day of tests—another Echo Cardiogram and the
Doc told me my heart was very strong and healthy and “it won’t be your heart
that takes you out!”—HAH. Then another
tech and wheelchair showed up at my door and the words I was scared to hear,
“we are here to take you for a needle aspiration of your right lung, you have
fluid build-up—no wonder I couldn’t breathe!
I had heard about needle aspiration—they stick a 6 foot needle in your
back, through the ribs and into the lung to drain the fluid, so I was scared,
but, it wasn’t bad at all. I silently
prayed, “Dear God, help me be brave” and He did. NO—the needle isn’t really 6 feet long—it’s
pretty long, but………..
600 ml fluid off that lung—helped with my breathing. The fluid was clear and I asked if I had any
lung problems like COPD or anything and the needle tech wondered why I would
ask. “No you don’t have COPD or chronic
bronchitis…no stenosis…your lungs are in very good shape, why did you think
otherwise?” “Oh,,” I replied, “because I
smoked for 60 years.” “WELL, YOU’D NEVER
KNOW IT BY LOOKING AT YOUR LUNG SCANS.”
Tuesday noon, the
head of PT came in to inform me I had a fractured right scapula (shoulder
blade). “I do not!” I said. He went on to try and convince me that the
fall I had taken on the day after I got home from my first adventure, had
broken my scapula and caused the retention of fluid in my “bruised” right
lung. He said the fracture had showed up
on the x-ray from the Howell ER. Now I
had fallen, but I didn’t tell anyone and I (thought) I had recovered because I had
no pain for the last couple of weeks, but I do remember someone asking me if I
had fallen recently and I said, “Yes”, but didn’t explain further. “You know,” I said, “the equipment at Howell
is probably older than what you have here, maybe you should take another x-ray
because……I do not have a broken shoulder blade!”
So he put me through some tests with my right arm and I did
all of them really well. He just stood
and stared at me. Then he wheeled me
down to the PT clinic and had me walk around with a walker and up and down
steps and checked my right shoulder and……..I had no pain. Then he said, “I’m going to notify your
Doctor, write you off and have you released this afternoon.”
What a dummy I am! I
know very well that a fall can cause internal bleeding or fluid build-up. Heck—my Daddy, at age 92, died a few days
after a fall when his kidney area filled up with blood and his kidneys couldn’t
get rid of it and his kidneys failed.
Why did it never occur to me that I could have a similar problem? A lot of “olders” die from falls every year
and it’s usually from internal injuries.
Why did I not think of that?
Because I can’t get it through my head that I AM OLD and if there is no
pain, I think everything is okay.
So—it took me 3 ambulance rides, a myriad of scans and
procedures to find out—the earlier hospital stay and this one were entirely
unrelated—this was caused by a fall that I didn’t pay attention to AND my
heart, my lungs and all other innards are really in very good shape.
Once again, I found my hospital stay to be interesting and I actually had fun. More social interaction than I’ve had in nearly two years. LOL.