chf – Page 6 – p i x e l s c r i b b l e s

My heart has almost completely recovered

I have been working very hard at leading a healthier life these past couple of months. I detailed the steps I’ve been taking here. I’ve gotten to the point where exercise in the morning is part of my routine. I bring my lunch to work a lot more, and when I do go out I make healthy choices. On days that I bring my lunch, I try to go for a walk, and I recently went to the Y during lunch when it was raining. I’ve also started going on 45-minute bike rides after work.

It’s paid off in many ways. My measurements are shrinking, I’ve lost 30 pounds, and I feel wonderful. Today, I reaped yet another reward.

Last October, I was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. After six months, heart medicine had helped my heart function improve from 15 to 20% up to 35%…but I was still too far from normal, 55%, for my doctor’s liking. She strongly suggested I get an implanted cardioverter-defibrillator (ICD).

At that point, I wrote, “I think that if I had worked harder to improve my diet and exercise, it would be better than it is…and I think if I work on those areas now, I can help it improve even more.” And I decided to work on my diet and exercise to see if I was right.

It turns out, I was.

Today I had my echocardiogram, three months after the ICD was suggested and ten months after my diagnosis.

My ejection fraction is now 45 – 50%, just 5% away from normal.

Lifestyle changes

My attitude towards health and weight loss changed drastically after I was encouraged to get an ICD. Part of it was that I hadn’t yet found the right tools, but I also don’t think I had been taking my health nearly as seriously as I should.

It’s been over a month since I committed myself to a healthier lifestyle. I joined Weight Watchers, I bought exercise videos that I actually enjoy doing, and I started forming better habits.

Here, in list format, are some of my achievements.

Good Things I’ve Been Doing

Following a morning routine.
Working out each and every day.
Not splurging on food, but not denying myself what I want, either.
Eating out less.
Packing lunches more.
Weighing myself every day.
Going to bed at the same time every night.

Things I Refuse to Allow Myself to Do

Give up on my quest for better health.
Lose the ability to squat.
Eat whatever I want, whenever I want.
Not work out because I don’t “feel like it”.
Have to size up my wedding ring.
Lose flexibility.
Be down on myself.
Focus more on the past than on my current achievements.

I have a long way to go, but I am going to get there. I am not going to shoot myself in the foot. I am going to stay focused on my goals and I am going to do everything I can to reach them.

My most immediate goal is to avoid the ICD. I’m hoping by the end of August my heart will have recovered enough that my doctor won’t think it’s necessary anymore. This may not be possible. If I have to have an ICD, I have to have an ICD. But I’m going to do whatever I can do to avoid it before I have to make that decision.

My long-term goal is, of course, to get down to a healthy weight. I’m not ruling out any options. Obesity runs in my family, and it may very well be that I can’t beat this without surgical assistance. But I am not going to have my intestines rerouted without doing everything I can do first.

This month has been a great start. It’s going to get harder from here, and down the road. But I refuse to give up.

It’s not “I’m not giving up this time”. There hasn’t actually been a time when I have been this motivated. In the past when I’ve tried to lose weight I’ve always lacked a true commitment, always let either my eating habits or my exercise–or both!–slide. So this is really the first time I’ve ever made a concerted effort to be healthy.

It’s going to be the last time, too, because I’m going to stay this way for the rest of my life.

Things can change, if you work for it

Last year, before I was diagnosed with congestive heart failure, I got exhausted walking just a few feet. When I went to Augusta’s Riverwalk to enjoy the scenery and take pictures, I had to stop and sit down every couple of minutes. The idea of walking all the way from one end to the other and back seemed ludicrous. I didn’t know when I’d gotten so out of shape, but it felt like no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t build up any strength.

It’s been six months since I was diagnosed. Heart medicine has helped my heart rebuild itself–not completely, but about halfway. I’ve found myself feeling better and better. Other than some weird symptoms in my left eye–an intermittent, enveloping blurriness, a higher level of irritability, and lately a weird flashing in the periphery–I feel good. I feel normal. I’ve been able to walk farther and farther, and do aerobics, and ride my bike again.

I knew I was doing well when I walked the North Augusta Greeneway with Brooke and felt like I could keep going forever. But it didn’t really hit me how much I’ve improved until I went to Riverwalk on Thursday. Without feeling tired in the least, I walked the full length and then walked back…and the only reason I ever sat down was because I’d foolishly chosen to wear sandals instead of sneakers.

I can’t describe how that difference makes me feel. I’m an extremely independent-minded person, and stubborn to boot, and not being able to walk even short distances had a huge effect on my personal happiness. I hated it. I hated life, and I hated myself, and I felt helpless to change it.

That diagnosis was the best thing that could have happened to me.

A lot of people are scared to go to the doctor because they’re afraid of what they might find out. They’d rather keep going along, blissfully ignorant.

If that’s you…take it from me. Please don’t. Please go to the doctor.

You may get a scary diagnosis, sure. But you may also find out that there’s treatment, and that you can live a normal life again. You can be strong again. You can do the things you want to do again.

When you do go to the doctor, don’t let them make a snap diagnosis. Bring notes. Tell them all your symptoms. Tell them how your quality of life has changed. My doctor wouldn’t have even thought of heart failure if it hadn’t been for my mom reminding him that I used to bike for hours.

And once you have that diagnosis, don’t run away from it. Do everything your doctor says. Don’t stop taking your meds when you start to feel better. Don’t skip appointments with your doctor, or stop going entirely. Keep a journal of how you’re feeling, and make note of any new symptoms, and let your doctor know. It’s a hassle, and it might make you feel resentful…but that’s still better than losing your ability to function, and dying too soon.

Make a commitment to enjoy life. You have things you want to do, don’t you? Do them. And do what your doctor says so that you’re able to do the things you want to do. Take charge of your health, and take care of yourself. You’ll feel better.

I certainly do.

My previous post title is apropos

It turns out it wasn’t a black and white issue. I thought it would be one of two possible outcomes; it never occurred to me that there’d be one in the middle.

My heart has recovered…some. My ejection fraction is now 35. An average person’s EF is over 55. My doctor says this is good news, but she still recommends the implanted cardioverter-defibrillator. However, the decision is up to me.

Dr. G explained to me that when they implant the ICD, they purposefully put you into V-fib to see if it works. If not, they shock you the old-fashioned way to keep you from dying, and then change the settings.

That kind of bothered me. If I haven’t gone into V-fib ever, it seems to me like putting me into it intentionally only increases the chances that it will happen again.

When I got home I read about the procedure to implant the ICD and what recovery is like. Obviously it involves surgery. The surgeon creates a “pocket” under the collarbone, like they do for a pacemaker, and a lead (or three) goes down a vein to the heart. You’re not put all the way under, but there is a sedative.

As with any surgery, I imagine there’s a chance of death during the procedure.

If I do this, I will have a device stuck in my body that will be noticeable through the skin. Plus I’ll have a scar. Plus, they pretty much never remove these things, even if you get better.

If I don’t do this, and I ever do go into V-fib, or my heart is otherwise irregular, I won’t have anything to save me from sudden cardiac death.

The issue, to my way of thinking, is whether or not I am in grave danger of my heartbeat becoming irregular or stopping. This may just be the heart meds talking, or my complete lack of desire to undergo surgery again…but I don’t feel like I am. I think my heart has improved a great deal in the almost six months since I was diagnosed, and I believe it will continue to improve. I think that if I had worked harder to improve my diet and exercise, it would be better than it is…and I think if I work on those areas now, I can help it improve even more.

At this point, I feel like waiting and seeing what happens.

I have an appointment next month with the doctor who does the procedure, then a follow-up with Dr. G in July. By then it will have been eight months since my diagnosis.

Some heart patients apparently wait nine months to see if their heart has recovered, so why not wait that extra month and then have another echo before I undergo life-altering surgery?

That’s basically where I am right now. Obviously, I’m going to talk with more people and learn as much as I can, to try and make the most informed choice.

Life expectancy: pretty much normal

I went to the cardiologist, Dr. G, today, and she upped my lisinopril and downed my furosemide and agreed that I seem to have lost all the fluid I had been retaining. She listened to my breathing and asked if I had been dizzy or lightheaded to the point of passing out lately (which I have not). Then she said that things seemed to be going really well for me.

Finally I asked her what the plan was in the long term. She said that in cases like mine, if the heart is going to recover, it usually happens within nine months, so around June we’ll do another echo to see if it has. If it hasn’t, at that point we’ll talk about whether or not I should have a defibrillator implanted to protect me against irregular heart rhythms, which can cause instant death. (Sorry, that was abrupt! But I guess the instant death would be, too. Heh.)

She said sometimes the heart recovers, and sometimes it doesn’t recover but the person feels better anyway, and from a quality of life standpoint those two things are essentially the same. In the second scenario you just have to take extra steps.

Then I asked her if my life expectancy would be affected by all this. She essentially said probably not. If my heart recovers in nine months, then I’ll just be normal. If it doesn’t, then all that will be different is that I will have a higher chance than most of the population of having those irregular heart rhythms.

So I should live into old age. This was nice to hear!

Dr. G also told me that exercise is very good for people with CHF, and I should do as much as I can. The things I should avoid are straining myself, like with heavy lifting or with overdoing the exercise, and getting pregnant (I think I can handle that ;P).

Basically, I got the impression that I should be careful, but not treat myself like an invalid. This makes me very pleased. It can be fun having people do things for me, but ultimately I like things done my way, and there isn’t always someone around to help me out. I’m glad to know that I can still do things myself. Not everything, of course, but more than I was thinking I could.

This past weekend I wanted to go to the Canal. I ended up not going, but I wish I had. Maybe next weekend. The issue will be how to get to the path; my regular parking area is way up on a hill, which I can probably get down but would be a pain to get back up. I haven’t walked up a flight of stairs in weeks so I’m not sure how much of a strain it would be. I could go to the other parking area, which is level with the Canal, but that side of town isn’t so great and I’m not sure I want to park my car there. Decisions, decisions.

In any case, I am going to live my life the best I can and do as much as I can, and take care of myself while I enjoy myself.

Not freaking out (yet)

I’m searching “”congestive heart failure” “life expectancy”” on Google. So far I’m finding a bunch of articles that say life expectancy depends on the severity of the failure and that life expectancy is shortened. I’ve only found one article that actually gives numbers, and it was last updated in 2003, so I’m not sure how much it can be trusted.

I think the word a sympathetic news anchor reporting on these numbers would use is “sobering”.

Although many people with heart failure live for many years, up to 70% of people die of the disorder within 10 years. Life expectancy depends on how severe the heart failure is, whether its cause can be corrected, and which treatment is used. About half of people who have mild heart failure live at least 10 years, and about half of those who have severe heart failure live at least 2 years.

So, assuming this article is accurate, and assuming my heart failure is mild (which I think is a safe assumption given that I’m able to work), I still only have a 50/50 chance of living for just ten more years.

But I have to remind myself that four years have passed since this article was written. Maybe something is different now.

I will try not to freak out too much until I see my cardiologist next week and ask her about it.

However, if it turns out that not much has changed and I am not going to live much past a decade from now–if even that–then some things are going to have to change in my life. I won’t be able to put off all the stuff I want to do until later. And I won’t have to plan for retirement, either, which means I won’t have to feel guilty about spending the money. The first priority will be moving back to Kentucky, and after that, getting to England to see Brooke, and getting back to Japan.

And of course, I will do my best to live as long as possible, which means listening to my doctors and taking care of myself. I can’t eat like I’ve eaten my entire life anymore. I have to eat lean meats, vegetables, no fried food. No more desserts. A lot fewer starches/carbohydrates. Heart-healthy stuff. And I need to go ahead and get a treadmill because aerobic exercise is recommended, on days when I feel up to it.

I had a Slim-Fast for breakfast, a Chick-fil-A Cool Wrap with a fruit cup and Diet Dr Pepper for lunch, and a swordfish steak, baked potato, and steamed veggies for dinner, but while those were healthier options than my usual, I will need to move away from eating out as much as possible–it adds too much sodium.

There may be nothing to worry about; iVillage has a list of questions for CHF patients to ask their doctors, and one of them is “Is my heart failure likely to seriously affect my life expectancy?” which suggests that some heart failure might not (although maybe this question is there because it usually does, but I’m an optimist). But regardless of what I hear at the doctor’s, I am going to work to make these changes in my life so I can be healthier.

Living

Things are going well. Mom has been able to stay longer than I originally thought she could, which has been so great. She actually dusted my apartment. I don’t think that has been done since we moved in.

But seriously, it is so nice to have her here. A lot of people don’t get along with their mothers, which is such a shame. My mom is just wonderful. She was strict enough when we were kids and when we became adults she treated us like adults. Now she’s my friend and my mom, which is just neat. We can sit and enjoy a good conversation or go out together and have fun, but then when I’m sick or upset I can snuggle in for a good Mommy hug.

Plus, it feels so good to have someone take care of you. Sean and I are both really independent, and while we do take care of each other, we’re not doting. And I don’t really want to be doted on by him. I know he loves me; I want him to do his own thing and be his own person. But occasionally I do like to just relax and be coddled, and while I can ask Sean to take care of me sometimes, my mom will instinctively know what to do and just go ahead and do it. It’s such a comfort. I’ll really miss her when she goes back home.

Monday I felt all right up until the end of the day, at which point I got really tired. Tuesday, though, I felt great the whole day, such that I ran errands on my way home and then tidied up the apartment. Yesterday was another okay day. I haven’t had any moments this week where I’ve had to stop and gasp for breath, probably because I’ve been careful not to exert myself too much, but there have been times when I’ve been tired. At those times I just put my head down for a few minutes to recharge and I’m usually fine.

I’ve been sleeping all right, too. Last night and the night before I decided to skip the Flonase to see if that would help with how I seem to lose my voice when I’m at work. And it did seem to help yesterday; I wasn’t nearly as hoarse. I think I can probably stop using the Flonase. Conveniently enough I have a doctor’s appointment this morning, so I will ask him when I go.

I’ll also be asking him if a sleep study is actually necessary–it probably isn’t, so I should be able to cancel it, which will be good. I’m not sure how much of that insurance was going to cover :>

Later today I’m seeing the cardiologist again, and she said she might prescribe a third heart medication.

The next steps I need to take care of are organizing exercise and diet. I need to get a treadmill so I can walk indoors, and I need to figure out a good plan so I can eat heart-healthy foods and maybe lose some weight. It’s funny to try and lose weight at a time when I can’t really exert myself, but whatever ;>

Beyond the health stuff, there are a couple other things I want to do soon. First, Mom wants to buy me a new cell phone so I can take movies and pictures. Sean and I had a ridiculous experience at the Sprint store this past weekend–we were all ready to buy this brand new phone, but their system wouldn’t let us buy it!–so we may change carriers. Hopefully we can make that decision this weekend.

The next thing is to get a dining room table, because I am planning on hosting Thanksgiving. I know the exact table I want, so I should probably just go ahead and order it. The problem will be finding chairs…the chairs that come with the set don’t do it for me. We’ll have to see how that goes.

I also need to get a desk and a file cabinet, or maybe just a desk with a file drawer, for the multipurpose room, so I can get all our paperwork off the floor. (I gave Gargantua the Monster Desk to Rex from work.)

Mom keeps asking me why I haven’t bought an electric piano…I guess I just don’t feel comfortable spending thousands of dollars when I’m not sure I’ll be dedicated to it.

Grandma Flo called and offered to clean our apartment for me once a week, which is going to be a huge help. I’m going to see her on Saturday and work the details out. Also on Saturday, I think Mom and I are going to the mall. Maybe we can all go together…we’ll have to see. Then, that evening when Sean’s up, maybe we can figure out the cell phone thing.

And that’s pretty much what’s been going on. I feel fine on the whole, I have an idea of how things are going to work from now on, and I should be getting more details worked out today with my doctors. So there you have it.

Moving forward

The response to my diagnosis by the people who have responded so far has been interesting. There are some people who are incredibly upbeat–either they are just trying to cheer me up or they seriously don’t think it’s that big a deal. There are people who are seriously freaking out. And there’s the middle ground, which is where I am, where you just kind of say yes, this sucks, and I’m going to roll with it.

Today my mom did me a huge favor and assembled a DVD cabinet that has been sitting in a box in the hallway for 14 months. Then she rearranged all the furniture so it was to my liking. My mom is awesome.

As for me, I got so tired after putting a few DVDs into the cabinet that I had to take a nap :P

I have congestive heart failure.

It’s official after my echo cardiogram this afternoon. Where a normal heart pumps about 55% of the blood out of the ventricle at a time, mine is doing somewhere around 15% to 20%. This explains the freakish swelling in my legs and my overwhelming fatigue.

This could be an extremely delayed reaction to chemotherapy. It could have also been caused by the gastroenteritis I had awhile back, since viral infections are known to decrease heart function. My doctor, an intelligent, well-spoken woman we’ll call Dr. G, says we’ll never know.

Treatment is drugs. Dr. G says she doesn’t think a biopsy is necessary, but she doubled the heart medicines my GP put me on and is adding a third starting next week after she sees me again.

I am still able to work and go about my life, but I have to refrain from strenuous activity, heavy lifting, etc.

If all goes well, my heart will start to heal in a few months.

If all doesn’t go well, who knows what might happen. My mom is understandably upset because something similar happened to her sister Carol: she had a viral infection that led to decreased heart function. In her case, the drugs didn’t work, and she ended up having a heart transplant.

(Aunt Carol is doing fine, although she seems to have circulation problems in her legs if she sits for too long. Aunt Carol is also a lot older than me.)

I, being young and naive, am not particularly worried about recovering from this, but I am extremely pissed off at my life right now. Okay, so, first, we lose everything we own in an apartment fire–lifelong memories that are, frankly, irreplaceable. Then, the best friend I made in Augusta moves to a completely different country. Meanwhile, my large family who I love and desperately want to spend time with all live eight hours away. I finally start to think I can deal with being infertile, only to stupidly take a home pregnancy test…that turns out to be a false positive. The worst day of my life. And then I go in today and have a completely different kind of ultrasound and find out I can’t even take care of myself anymore. I can’t do big-time grocery shopping. I can’t assemble or move furniture. I can’t go wherever I want whenever I want. No biking, no long walks, nothing, because I’m physically incapable of doing it. And it’s not going to be fixed anytime soon.

So here I am trapped away from family and friends unable to take care of myself, but still well enough to work, so I have to drag myself out of bed every day and try not to pass out for eight hours so I don’t lose my job.

This is not the kind of existence I was hoping for when I moved here.

Congestive heart failure, come on down!

You’re the next contestant on What the Hell’s Wrong with Heather?!

Yes, that’s the current theory. Heart failure. Due to chemotherapy. Apparently it can happen years later, and suddenly.

It could also be a clog in the vena cava filter that was installed as a preemptive measure after a surgery I had.

Either way, it’s a little different from acid reflux, isn’t it?

Boy I’m glad Mom’s here to talk to the doctors…

A whiny ramble–feel free to skip

So, I’m pretty miserable.

Aside from being horribly depressed, I keep coughing, and my left foot is huge and swollen and purple from where I kept it crammed into a dress shoe all day. I also started having abdominal pain again on my way home (early; my boss said I could finish up remotely). This morning I coughed up snot for the first time in awhile; last night I forgot to Flonase, but I’m not sure if that’s related.

I had a bad dream right before I woke up this morning, in which Sean basically informed me that I existed to amuse him, and when I tried to leave, he threatened violence, so I headbutted him and then grabbed him hard in a very sensitive place. But as this was happening, dream-me thought that maybe this was all pretend, so I shouldn’t hurt him too badly.

Then I woke up.

When I told Sean about the pregnancy test last night I had already been asleep for awhile, and I woke up when I heard him settling in in the living room. He said the same thing AJ did: “Don’t get your hopes up.” And like I said before, I really thought I wasn’t. But apparently I did a lousy job.

The nurse said that false positives hardly ever happen; it’s usually false negatives. I looked up false positives online and it said they are usually due to taking fertility drug shots, which I have not done recently. I guess the test was just defective.

Pretty lame. Oh well, yet another bad memory to add to the pile. I’ve been thinking about writing a timeline of all the bad things that have happened in my life, but I’m pretty sure that would be counterproductive. Not to mention whiny.

I should be thankful I’m alive, and have such a great family, and a cute and sweet husband who loves me, and a job I enjoy, and enough money to be able to save and eat out and have fun.

It’s funny, I had decided recently that I was just going to assume I couldn’t have children, because I figured that would be easier. But I guess I never fully embraced that path, because I was so susceptible to the idea when the nurse (who apparently knew nothing of my situation) asked, “Do you think you might be pregnant?” It took a week or two, but then, like a moron, I looked into it.

And then, like a moron, I posted about stat labs on Twitter, and that made Mom wonder why I needed stat labs, and so I ended up telling her, and she was at the farm with Dad and Ben and Manda so they all found out, and so I called AJ because everyone else knew…and I originally wasn’t going to tell anyone until I’d had a blood test. I’d had one that morning but it turned out the lab couldn’t do them stat, so those results will actually be in tomorrow, and it was too late to get them done by the time I found out, so I had to wait and do them this morning. And I guess I just got upset and frustrated and nervous from all the waiting and ended up blowing it, and I got Mom’s hopes up.

Damn it.

When the nurse called to tell me, I didn’t want to talk to anyone, so I just sent Sean and Mom a text message about it. Mom called back and I may have been rude. I just tried not to think about it for as long as I could for the rest of the day. But of course, eventually it overwhelmed me, because I’m a stupid wuss, so here I am, sitting at home gushing in stream of consciousness on my blog when I should still be at work. That frustrates me too, because I’ve been sick so much lately, and I was just getting back to being the kind of employee I strive to be. And now this.

I think life likes to let me rise up before it kicks me back down. Maybe it’s more amusing that way. This time I feel like I was crouched on wobbly legs when it hit.

Whine, whine, whine. Let’s take a step back. What have we learned here? I was told years ago when I first went to an endocrinologist that my chances of being fertile were low, especially if I couldn’t have my own periods. I started out taking hormones, but after awhile I decided I was tired of pills and wanted to be normal, so I just stopped taking them. (Good job.) Five years later, I have a period out of the blue, which is likely a menopausal flushing of all the lining that had built up for those years. I take this as a sign that my body is curing itself, instead. My doctors tell me otherwise but I am apparently incapable of comprehension. I start back on hormones religiously and take pregnancy tests anytime I start to feel “weird”. They are all, of course, negative. I get frustrated. After my doctor leaves her practice, I let everything slide again. But after awhile I decide I want to get back on track with my health, so I find a new doctor. She tells me that the chances of someone who’s had chemotherapy regaining ovarian function after this long are practically zero. I feel like I can maybe move on. Then she adds, “But miracles do happen.” I have grown to hate this phrase because it gives me hope.

That brings us to now. I have weird symptoms where I get overly tired just walking from my office to my car. I have chest pains. I seem to not be breathing properly at night, and sometimes during the day. Flonase, saline spray, and elevating my head seems to help with sleeping, but does nothing for the weird day breathing. Eventually I started getting bloated in my legs and hips. I also occasionally experience abdominal pain, at one point so bad I threw up. I am often so hot that the only thing that helps is sticking my head and arms into the freezer.

Of course I think the hotness is a menopausal symptom, but I have put off starting my hormones because I thought I had a drug interaction one day when I threw up. I’m still not sure what happened there.

In discussing my various symptoms with my various doctors, the nurse at the endocrinologist’s office asks the fatal question, the question I’ve been asking myself. “That’s supposed to be impossible,” I say, keeping my voice level. “But I suppose I could check.” And eventually I do. And for some fucked up reason it says “Pregnant”.

Why would you do this to me? I mean really. What is the point?

Maybe the point is that I should just have a hysterectomy so I can stop worrying about it. (Or I could stop having sex, but I doubt Sean will get on board for that.)

Better and better

I’m still coughing, with the addition of burping, sneezing and occasionally an extraordinarily itchy nose, but I feel so much better. You have no idea. I was downright cheerful at work. “There’s that smile!” my boss said. I threw myself into what I needed to do and dug through some backlogged projects as well, and set up some meetings for tomorrow with what might be described as zeal. It feels so good to be able to get motivated without feeling sick!

I’ve still got symptoms, don’t get me wrong. The throat gunk still makes an appearance and it still tastes gross. But my overall tiredness seems to be passing.

Part of this, I’m sure, is just that I’m so happy that I’m going to see Brooke tomorrow, and get to spend time with her all week. She’s promised to come spend the night here one night, and I’m looking forward to watching a couple of our favorite episodes of Kyou Kara Maou. I also think I’ll introduce her to Detective Conan by way of The Case of the Time-Bombed Skyscraper, because that is a fabulous movie. I will even allow the dub (though a rather important line is changed at the end).

I think I also told her I was going to show her the first two DVDs of KareKano, and I might try to do that, but it’s not a high priority. What is a high priority, apparently, is eating curry and lime sherbet! And I am down with that.

Pajama party!

Today I felt good enough after work to run some errands, including picking up some more prescriptions and going to the grocery. I got more cottage cheese and milk, and a head of broccoli and some potatoes, and a bag of salad, and a bunch of noodles, and some soup. I also bought two pie dishes and two pie crusts, which I hope to use at Thanksgiving…I’m tentatively hoping to host it here, assuming I can figure out where people would sit to eat.

The most exciting thing about the shopping experience was where I went. I decided to try the Columbia Road Kroger, mainly because of the fact that I was leaving the Bobby Jones Walgreens. I figured it might not be as much of a hole as the Wrightsboro Road Kroger.

And wow, is that an understatement.

Dude, the Columbia Road Kroger is upscale. Seriously, they have a Starbucks in there. The deli is gorgeous, the aisles are wide and fully stocked, and they have literally everything I look for in a grocery store. They even carry the brand of rice I like, which normally I have to go to Asian groceries for! And I was finally able to find rolled up, refrigerated pie shells…I haven’t seen them at Evans Wal-Mart, well, ever, and I’m still not sure why.

The produce section was well-stocked and everything looked delicious. And they had pumpkins. For $5! They were so cute, I bought two. Not too big, not too small, the perfect size for sitting around to remind me that it’s fall. (Or that it should be fall, anyway.) I saw a neat idea about using doilies as painting stencils for pumpkins in this month’s BH&G, which I may try out.

Wow, it is just so cool to feel like I have energy, and to be so enthusiastic about things again.

When I say “feel like I have energy”, I mean that while I am starting to feel like my old self, I’m still getting exhausted after minimal exertion. I don’t know if I buy Dr. B’s “out of shape” argument, at least not entirely. We’ll have to wait until all the GERD symptoms are handled before I can be sure. But that walk through the grocery store certainly wore me out.

The second coolest thing about the shopping experience was running into a former coworker, Rebecca, in the parking lot. I could feel my skin turning clammy and sweaty while we were standing there talking and I felt so gross. But it was still cool to see her, and meet her boyfriend.

When I got home I had planned on making spaghetti, but it took a lot out of me to get the groceries inside and put away, so I decided to relax instead, and ate some Kroger brand cottage cheese a little later. It was oh so good. I followed it up with a small glass of delicious apple juice. Ahhh, this is life.

Since I won’t have any errands holding me back tomorrow, I should be able to make the spaghetti. Mmm.

That’s another thing that’s been nice…finally feeling up to eating regular food, instead of just warm or cool smooth things.

I also have a theory about the acne. During much of this time, it has been gross to drink water due to the throat gunk. It was just like drinking the taste of throat gunk. So I’m pretty sure I was dehydrated like crazy, and I think that did bad things to my skin. Yesterday I started drinking a lot of water, and the acne seems to be declining. Thank goodness.

Now if I can just make it through the day…

Last night was not fun, and I hope it’s not an experience I have to repeat anytime soon.

I tried to get to sleep at around 11. Thinking it would help clear my sinuses, I put a cough drop in my mouth. Three hours of fitful sleep later, I awoke feeling like there were gobs of mucus in the back of my throat and with that old familiar hitching in my lungs. Lovely.

I got rid of the cough drop and tried to get back to sleep, but no matter what I did, it was impossible. I got up several times and messed around online, but I was really too tired to enjoy or care too much about what I was doing. Whenever I tried to get back in bed, I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t relax.

Finally I tried the decongestant that worked for me the other day. It dried my throat out, which was sort of a relief and sort of made me nauseous, but I still couldn’t actually get to sleep.

It was around 5 or 6 when I finally asked Sean to please come sit next to me because I couldn’t calm down. He snuggled into bed behind me and wrapped his arms around me and stroked the skin of my back and legs.

And I was able to concentrate on the niceness of that feeling, instead of all the other things that always race through my mind when I go to bed these days. It seems like every night I think about how I wish I was back in the old apartment, or I miss some item we used to own, or I think about how I’ve “chosen” not to worry about having kids since it’s impossible, or I ponder how far away I live from my family, or I wish I could figure out if I want to buy a house here or move away. I think it would be pretty ridiculous at this point to try and claim that stress isn’t a factor in how I’ve been feeling. I’m just not sure what to do about it.

Anyway, I am so thankful that Sean calmed me down enough that I finally slipped off to sleep. I’m not sure how much sleep I actually got, and I feel like crap right now, but I know I’d feel even worse if I hadn’t gotten any sleep at all.

Side note: I noticed yesterday that the veins that normally stick out of my feet don’t, anymore. It kind of weirded me out.

Side note #2: I think, constantly, “Remember back when I could breathe?” or “Remember back when I didn’t feel terrible?” I’m really annoying myself. It’s not that clever, Heather.

Side note #3: I’m going to a specialist tomorrow who will hopefully figure something out about my respiration/pulmonary function. I’ve had friends who’ve said it sounds like allergies and friends who’ve said it sounds like sleep apnea. Looking forward to a doctor’s opinion.

Side note #4: Why am I so sweaty all the time?

What is it?

I’m trying to figure out what has caused this downward spiral in my health.

My initial reaction was to blame it all on emotional distress from the fire. While that may be a factor, at this point I don’t think it accounts for everything. After all, I was still riding a bike after the fire. As soon as I was able to get one, I rode when I could while we were still living with Sean’s parents. Back then I didn’t have full time work and was able to do things according to my own schedule, but I was also healing emotionally, and I also didn’t really have a place to call my own…so I wasn’t as vigilant as I had been, but I was very eager to get our own place so I could get back into the swing of my life.

I got my current job around the same time we moved into this apartment. At first I was going on walks or to the Y during my lunch break all the time. I knew I wasn’t in as good shape as I once was, but I was determined to get back to it.

But something happened and I didn’t stick to it. Why did I stop working out at lunch?

Sometimes I wouldn’t take a lunch. And then I got into the habit of eating out for lunch, which meant I had to have time to pick something up to eat, which meant I usually didn’t think I had enough time to work out as well.

Also, since we’ve lived here, I’ve only been to the Canal once, and I haven’t biked the Greeneway at all. For some reason I’ve felt like it was too much trouble or it took too much time. But that makes no sense. At the old apartment, I had to lug the bike up and down three flights of stairs, and I did it without complaint. Here, all I’d have to do is walk it out the door. So why am I not biking before or after work, or on the weekends for that matter?

And why do my weekends solely consist of sitting around on the computer and/or watching DVDs? Why don’t I go places anymore? Every Friday I think, “I want to do something this weekend,” and then every Saturday and Sunday I think, “I’ll do it later,” and then it’s Monday and I haven’t done anything.

Is this horrible out-of-breath-all-the-time thing a product of my slow decrease in activity? If so, how did I let this happen?

Or is my slow decrease in activity caused by being out of breath all the time? Is there something in my environment maybe that makes me less desirous to move around? Am I allergic to something in the apartment, or at work?

I don’t want to just assume I’m a victim of my environment. Obviously I’m going to ask my general practitioner about this when I seem him in another week.

This is all just making me so mad. I can’t draw a clear line of how this has happened to me–how I’ve let myself go this badly.

The more you do, the more you are able to do. The more you do it, the more you are able to do it.

The less you do, the less you are able to do. The less you do it, the less you are able to do it.

Is that all there is to this? Am I where I am now because my laziness gradually grew? Because I stopped packing lunches and cooking dinners? Because I never “feel like” taking the bike out for a spin?

How can I correct this if I get winded after thirty seconds of mild physical activity?

I will find out more when I see the doctor again. I hope I can figure something out.

Here goes

I got up at 6 this morning, put on my workout clothes, set up my new pedometer, and went for a walk, taking out the trash as I went.

Almost immediately I was out of breath. I had to stop walking and force myself to breathe deeply. These days it feels like there’s a hole in my lungs, so no matter how heavily I breathe I don’t get enough air. I’m thinking it’s allergy-related, though it almost certainly also has to do with how out of shape I am.

After dumping the trash I walked straight back to the end of the main road, then turned into one of the many patio home complexes and walked back through there. I thought about going on into another complex, but I ultimately decided that I didn’t want to overdo it on my first day, so I came back to the apartment. In total, I walked a piddly .628 of a mile.

It was already hot when I walked, even though the sun had barely risen. My clothes were plastered to me by the time I came back inside, and the air conditioning was quite a welcome relief.

Yesterday I bought a stand for my bicycle so I can use it as a stationary bike indoors. I also looked at treadmills, but all the powered ones seemed too big, and I didn’t see a non-powered one anywhere. I may do some more research online.

The two bad habits I need to break are eating out all the time and staying up too late. If I can keep those things under control, I think it will make a big difference.

I’m considering making a rule for myself that if I do eat out, I have to have a salad. That might work. But I seem to always break my own rules, so I really just want to try to pack my lunch as much as possible.

Avoiding staying up too late will really just involve willing myself not to get heavily involved with something I’m doing right before bed, be it watching DVDs or reading blogs or working on a project. Last night I was burning DVDs and watching Detective Conan until I realized it was already 10:30. I wrapped up as quickly as I could and went to bed.

Something I’m worried about is how Sean tends to wake me up by playing music or talking on the phone too loudly in the morning. He woke me up shortly before my alarm went off today, so maybe I was ready to get up anyway, but I recall thinking furiously as I listened to him through the wall that we really need to do something about it. I even considered for a long time switching the bedrooms so I would be sleeping in the front room, down the hall from the living room, instead of in the back room, which is right next to the living room. But that would mean I would have to do laundry in the spare bedroom and then carry it into the other bedroom to put away, and having a washer and dryer in a spare bedroom’s closet just seems weird.

Plus it would be a pain to move our bed :>

I’m wondering if maybe a white noise generator would do the trick…it might also cancel out any noise from our upstairs neighbor, who can keep odd hours. But would it interfere with my alarm clock?

Beyond that, I have two things I want to do to get myself further into the “zone”. The first involves some changes to our second bedroom. I’m giving away the huge desk, and I’m going to try to find a small desk and maybe a shelf to go in there and then use the floor space for exercising. Eventually, when we get a flat panel television, I’ll put the ancient monster we currently use in there as well, for use with workout DVDs. Until then I can just use a laptop.

My hope is to arrange the room so that it looks inviting but is still easy to work out in.

The second thing I want to do is rearrange my office at work. I have a vague idea on how I want to do it. Basically my goal is to shift the “hallway” part of the room so that it’s in front of me rather than behind me. It’s really annoying to have people walking behind me all the time. My plan is to move my desk back so that my back is against the opposite wall. I’ll have a decent view of both doors that way.

Once I get my office to where I can see when people are coming, I want to start doing mini-workouts at my desk. Nothing elaborate, just some movement on a regular schedule. I actually found some software that will pop up and lead you in Tai Chi every 30 minutes, but I’m not sure I want to have some woman’s voice all of a sudden blaring out of my speakers. Still, it seems interesting and I’ll look into it further. I can also simply get a timer and set it for a certain interval, and do my mini-workout whenever it goes off. You can understand why I’d prefer to be able to see people coming…I’d rather not look like a complete doofus if I can help it.

I’ve come to believe that using my lunch break for a workout isn’t the best plan. I think when I take my break I should do some walking around, but I’d rather it be something fun than something I won’t look forward to doing, and something that will make me sweat enough that I’ll need a change of clothes. Changing to work out saps my valuable break time. So I think I’ll shift to an “exploring” sort of lunch, when it’s not too hot. I’ll do my usual trek to the Riverwalk, or I’ll go to the Greeneway, or I’ll find some other place that isn’t too far away.

Also, when I went to the bike shop yesterday I learned how to take the front wheel off my bike, so it shouldn’t be quite as big a hassle to get the thing into my car. So maybe I can bike a little during lunch too, or before or after work.

Ultimately I want to try to keep it interesting so I don’t get bored and quit.

Finally, I need to change my mentality. If I don’t exercise much (or at all) one day, that doesn’t mean I can’t do it the next day. But I need to stop thinking of every time that happens as “starting over”. When I do that I get all revved up with my “new plan” and then when it fails I crash for awhile. What I need to do is think of myself as continually doing these things, rather than starting and stopping. It’s just like how they say you shouldn’t “diet”, but instead change your eating habits permanently.

I will be seeing my general practitioner in two weeks to discuss the results of the bloodwork they took yesterday. Depending on the outcome of that, I may be starting on blood pressure, cholesterol, and/or thyroid medication. Come September I will be back on hormones to regulate my periods. However, I will not think of those as fertility treatments. I’ll talk more about that in another post.