Category: recovery stage

Nancy’s report on first week’s check-up on incision and device, that is the recently implanted cardiovertor defibrillator, known as an ICD.  (John thinks we should name it something, perhaps Hypatia :

http://www.women-scientists-in-history.com/hypatia.html )

We were up early to start a long day.  John had to spend time home with the roofer to meet the delivery team who trucked in supplies for the roof of our barn and house.  I went with the roofer’s wife to my appointment at the Yakima Heart Center, in Yakima, an hour away.  We left John in charge of watching mama and puppies.  She was disturbed by all the noise on the roof and strangers outside her window.  She was upset most of the day, even after I got back home.  She has now calmed down after 6:30 p.m. and is back eating, with John’s company.  He is reading today’s news on the web, via computer.  I’m in my recliner writing this entry for the blog and anticipating eating dinner before John puts it out on the blog.  He also has to move the horses off grass and back to their pen.

My appointment was with a device specialist, of which there are two at the Yakima Heart Center.  They were trained in classes paid for by the manufacturer of my defibrillator (with pacemaker included).  I will need to go back in for periodic check-ups every 3 months for the life of my device.  I thought today I would get the gizmo to put by my bedside that would broadcast my records every night to a satellite and on to the manufacturer.  That did not happen today and won’t until my next visit, in 3 months, in September.

Today, I was ushered into an examination room with a recliner.  It was an automatic one with a remote handled by the examiner.  She put some wires and connectors on me such as those used in an EKG, and put a receiver on top of the place where my device resides.  I was told I am thin (haven’t heard that since the 7^th grade), and that my device would stick out a bit.  She then started a machine which was downloading information from the device and displaying it on charts and graphs on a printer tape output.  I wish I had asked for a copy, but I didn’t think to do it.  I saw some of them, such as shocks.  Knowing I had not felt a shock, I asked her what that was.  She said it was from after the implantation, when they put me to sleep for a few minutes, and induced the device to make my heart fibrillate, so they could see if the ICD functioned as intended and shocked the faltering heart beat back to normal rhythm.  It had.   She reviewed all the reports and stated that all was well, and it was operating just fine.

I asked her what the shock was like and when it would occur… after I had fainted or before.  She said patients have told her it is like a horse kicking a person in the chest.  Well, that doesn’t sound like fun, so I’m happy they put me out for the testing.  She also said people respond differently.  She asked if I had ever fainted and I told her I had not.

She finished that test and said we would talk about the recovery time and the things I should not do.  I told her about the “squishing” sound I heard over the last week, but she had never heard that from anyone.  Not surprising; I’m always the individual with different reactions to medical procedures.  She told me not to worry about it.

I reported the pain I had that I thought went on too long.  She said I might have pain from this for months.  So, the fact I’m pretty much controlling it, with regular acetaminophen, is a positive note.

I told her about what the representative (from the device company) told me after the operation.  He had told me not to pick up more weight than a coffee cup with my left arm, and not to raise my arm above my shoulder for 6 to 8 weeks, and NOT TO DRIVE for 8 weeks.  This was different from anything I had been told previously and read on the web… or in talking with people, including my cardiologist.  I realize they don’t want me pulling out the wires, but that was going to be very constrictive on my activities, and getting myself to town for physical therapy, music or anything else.  Bummer.  I didn’t forget to ask about this issue.

Right away she said, no, you may drive, right now, just be cautious not to jerk your left arm and lift it above your shoulder.  Those were sweet words to my ears, and my reaction was that I wanted to hug her but couldn’t raise my arm to do so!  She got a laugh from that comment.

I’m so happy to have my freedom back.

The next discussion was about whether I would agree to participate in a study of my progress, by sharing my records (from the device) with a research team seeking to improve the technology.  Of course, so I signed on the line and got a description of the study.  (from John: I wonder if the patient’s medical history will be transmitted to the research team?  If so, they need to order more paper and ink.)

Then she removed my dressing / patch over the incision.  She remarked that it was healing very well, and told me I could shower now, and let water fall on the wound, which is not sutured with stitches, but is held together with little strips of tape.  In time those will curl up and fall off.  I am not supposed to scrub the spot.  I couldn’t look down and really see it and she didn’t have a mirror.  Once in the car I got to view it.

So, that’s my story, and I’m truly a happy person.

[The barn got its new roof before dark and it is now raining.  Awesome.]

* “Refers to the TV series ‘Dragnet’, where Jack Webb played Sergeant Joe Friday (Badge No. 714).” Each story began “My name is Joe Friday, I’m a cop — Yeah, there are a thousand stories in the naked city and this is just one of them.”

Nancy’s Impressions of the Defibrillator Implant Day, June 1

John has commissioned me to write my impressions of the recent procedure to implant the defibrillator, because he has no idea what to put on the blog.  I will try with apologies to the few friends I have already bombarded with emails or phone calls after the procedure.  I’m afraid this will be longer than John usually likes to print on the blog, but it contains my feelings of the experience, and that’s what he wanted to report.

June 1^st actually started  at midnight without being able to have anything but water except to take my pills in the morning, before taking off for an 8:30 a.m. entry to ER (what they had set up).  Knowing I would not be allowed to drive myself home, and worried about John spending so much time away from the Brittany mom and a few-days-old puppies, I asked R to drive down with me, get me settled and to drive my car back home and then come back for me the next afternoon to transport me home.  We took off from her house about 7:20 a.m. and had nothing out of the ordinary happen till we got to the 16^th street exit.  Coming off the freeway ramp, I stopped and looked to the left (used to be a stop sign there, but now is a yield and the traffic to the left has to stop).  A guy behind me went into road rage and honked loudly and crowded me.  We got through that, and were coming down 16^th Avenue in Yakima headed for Tieton Drive and the hospital, Yakima Memorial.  There was an accident we managed to drive around.  Had we been in the opposite lane headed north, we would not have made it through in a timely fashion.  Turns out I found out in the operating room that the X-ray technician’s wife was the car hit in the accident, by a woman who pulled out and didn’t see her, smashing into the front of the car.  The husband was not too far away, so got there to take their daughter from the back seat carrier and take her to day care.  He also checked to see that his wife was all right.

We got to the hospital and found a parking space close to the entrance.  Made our way to the ER (not ambulance) entrance and were promptly told to go to the person two spots to the right, that I really wasn’t being admitted to ER.  They had my name and were expecting me for the procedure.  Then we were ushered to a small room and computer operator, to the right of there.  R came in with me.  The “operator” could not get her computer to boot to find me in the system and start the paperwork.   After giving my medical insurance cards, I asked if I could find a restroom close by, while they got the computer going.  Yes, directions were given, and I took off without any of my stuff, to the restroom, around the counter.  I walked by a “cop” who stopped me and wanted to know where I was going.  I said, “To the restroom there, please.”  He okayed my going but told me to check back in with him when done.  So, I did, and walked back to the “computer entry room.”  I think by then a woman from the room behind had come out and “fixed” this computer.

It still took awhile, but they said I would be carried (in a wheel chair) directly to the Catheterization Lab.  R went along with me to a little room where I dumped all my stuff on a table, hugged her good bye, thanked her, and she wished me the best.   I was introduced to Anne, my nurse for the next hour or so for a huge list of questions about my past medical history and my medications.  First, I had to strip and put on a night gown and sock slippers.  Packed all my stuff in a bag they gave me.  As she was questioning me, she put heated blankets on me and kept pulling them over my arms if I became uncovered.  That was toasty, as the room was cold (but not as cold as the operating room would turn out to be, and where I was no longer pampered with a heated blanket or anything soft.)

Questions–all about my medications, which I had been told to take with me, but that was erroneous information.   They had to issue the pills from the hospital pharmacy and I could not take anything I was told to bring along.   There was nothing to be taken until later in the day after the procedure.  So, she went through the list of my medications (which she had in the records), asking me what time I last took each one.  The names were not always the same; I had to recognize that Lasix in my case was Bumex, or Bumatanide.   That interrogation lasted awhile, and while she was doing it, an assistant from the Blood Lab tried to install an IV in my left arm.  She failed and created a hematoma on the crease in my elbow.  Just as well, because I hate having IVs there.  I had to warn them not to flush with Heparin because of my previous severe reaction to it, and it would kill me.  Finally after several painful pokes, she left and they sought another person to insert an IV.  I was beginning to be concerned, but happily the second lady found a place on my hand to set it up and it remained that way till removed the next day when I was to check out.  As far as I know it was never used, except during the surgery.  The last thing to be done in this session was for Anne to set up a VCR 20-minute story about what to expect in the procedure I was about to have and the recovery period and restrictions afterward.  My blood pressure and heart rate were taken.  I watched the movie and then was resting waiting for the time to come to be taken across the hall.

I had left the entrance area at 8:30 on the dot, and my procedure was scheduled for 10:30.  There were still questions from the manufacturer’s representative, E, of my defibrillator, in my room after 10:30.  He asked me if I knew the name of it.  I told him Biotronik, a defibrillator with a pacemaker included, but I didn’t remember the model number.  One would think they would have had that information.  He went away and came back again asking me if I already had a pacemaker implanted.  I told him I did not but had had one back in December, but it was only in temporarily and removed before my valve replacement.   He said, “Oh, that makes sense now.  The paperwork said you had a pacemaker.”  I began to be annoyed that he had bad information, and he said it was apparently a clerical error.  Those are not good, and it didn’t make me feel comfortable.  He said all was well now and they were on the right track.  Well, hello!  Not much longer and they would walk me into the operating room.  I asked if I could go potty first so had a long walk to the restroom with the aid of a nurse, but when I was done, she was not around, so I walked back to the door of the operating room.

They ushered me in and gave me a stool to boost myself up on a table, very thin, the size and shape of an ironing board, without any padding whatsoever.  It was too narrow to put my arms beside my body.  So they got some extensions and put them in for my arms.  COLD.–everything was very cold.  I needed a pillow under my head, which nurse Judy provided, but mentioned it would not be able to stay there through the entire procedure.  Then they started putting various patches and things on me.  The coldest was a bright shiny metal looking thing but they claimed it was not metal, on my right leg attached above my knee.  I asked what it was for and they said it was a ground.  Hmmmm… interesting.  They needed me to turn my head to the right but were covering me up with a drape so I wouldn’t be able to see the doctor nor the monitors, which I was watching my blood pressure and heart beat and pattern on, prior to being blocked.  I was not under sedation except for pain, so they could talk to me and I could talk to them through the procedure.  I was not supposed to remember all that happened, but I do, except for the 3 minutes or so when they had all the stuff installed and had to set off the shocking mechanism of the defibrillator to correct an arrhythmic condition they set up.  I wonder how they did that.  After the operation was done, I was walked back across the hall to my room where I had been earlier.  The nurse changed from Anne to Judy, to whom I had been introduced earlier, and who was with me throughout the procedure.

Once back in the room (some time after NOON), so it was only about a 45-minute procedure, I was allowed to take my cell phone to my right ear (cannot use on the left side where the device is), to call John.  I told him I was all right, and asked nurse J to verify as she had been there the whole time as well.  She spoke to him for a minute and handed the phone back to me.  Then they brought me lunch.   That was a welcome sight.  There was white bean soup, pretty good, and a casserole mostly noodles with chicken flavor, but I only ate a small amount of that, and carrots.  I requested a chocolate milk shake.  That eventually made it to me, but the nurse told me it required an act of congress.  There was a black coffee that I did not drink.   I don’t remember getting any water until I was in my hospital room.

A room upstairs in the telemetry area did not open till 4:00 p.m. for me to be moved.  They rolled me up there in my bed with all my belongings piled on top of my legs (another narrow bed).  I was able to get up and get into my new bed, and requested a pillow for beneath my left arm and removed the sling that was VERY uncomfortable.   I was introduced to my private room, with a shared bath, and told it was like a bed & breakfast.  Yeah, right.  Well, as it turned out the gentleman next door never used the bathroom.  He must have been on a catheter and they just used it to pour down the toilet from the catcher container.  I know all about that from ICU for so long.  It was nice to be able to go on my own when I wanted.

Dinner was served at 6:00 p.m. and it was quite good.  The nursing assistant cut up the meat for me, and it surprised me how tasty it was.  She cut off the fat as well.  It was flank steak cooked tender in a gravy, and there were little potatoes that still had skins and were good too.  Coffee again, which I traded for hot cocoa.  Dessert was a tapioca pudding… that was actually edible, so I ate it – minus a gob of white fluffy stuff and an embedded rose petal.

There were frequent visits taking my blood pressure and temperature, even though I was hooked to the outside desk in front of the nurses, with 6 pieces of information being telemetered to them–that’s what the telemetry floor means.   I carried the unit in the pocket of a new gown I was transferred into once I got to this room.   I think this “floor” is basically an Intensive Care Unit (ICU).  I was on 2 South in room 265, where there are but 7 beds in the unit.  The other unit has 20 beds, and I do not know its location in the hospital.

My cardiologist, Dr. K, stuck his head in the door and surprised me.  I said, “Oh, Dr. K, I didn’t expect you!  He said (always addresses me this way), “Professor, I saw your name on the board and thought I would visit you.”  What a cool guy.  He said he was happy to hear the procedure went well, but when he heard my concerns about the strictness of the recovery actions for up to 8 weeks, he said that sounded a little extreme to him.   He wondered if perhaps they had had trouble with the operation.  I told him I would ask that in the morning of the Dr. or his physician’s assistant who was supposed to meet with me before checkout.  I also told him that I was awake during the operation and heard nothing out of the ordinary, and that it seemed to go well, as I had been told that once done.   I thanked him for his visit.

Next visitors really were a surprise– two married students from my past.  We had a nice visit.  They are geography graduates from CWU and now live in Yakima and have jobs there.  They had read about the planned procedure on this blog.

The rest of my evening and night was largely interrupted by taking my vitals, even though I was wired into the telemetry board.

The most disturbing thing to me was that the room across the hall in full view and within earshot was in “isolation.”  This did not make me comfortable to watch everyone who entered don a gown and gloves and head piece.  I assume the patient had Mersa (MRSA or Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus, a type of bacteria that can cause skin infections), which I had been tested for earlier.  I don’t know how long the test takes before they have to isolate a person.  She was in obvious distress as well.  I’m happy that for whatever reason, very late at night, they moved her completely up a floor.  That experience was a bit unnerving.

I started having the pain killer from the operation wear off after 4:00 and my first pain killer given at 4:30, a dose of Tylenol with Codeine.  They could only give it every 3 hours.  I was complaining still of pain 2.5 hours into the first pill.  This kept on all night, but the pain never ceased.  They did give me an ice pack, but finally I requested more of a pain pill in the morning, and they provided (not until noon) a Vicodin.  I think that should have been taken care of sooner in my aftermath of the procedure.

I did have two more visitors (friends) during the morning hours, and visits from a cardiologist (not my own), and G, a physician’s assistant to Dr. F, my surgeon for the procedure.  I did not get to talk to him, but she had reviewed my case and said everything went according to plans.  Nothing was out of the ordinary.

They needed my room for another person coming in from ER, so I was to be ushered out before noon, if possible.  It was not possible, because I had to wait for my “ride” home.  I had also ordered lunch, and it was brought a little sooner than normal.  I asked them to fix it up “to go” and I would eat it at home.  It was chicken stir fry with veggies and rice.  There was also strawberry cheesecake which my friend B ate, and the fruit had watermelon in it, which I detest, so we left that behind.  I still needed to get dressed, but needed to wait for R to get there and bring a different blouse from what I arrived in, because I figured it would be too tight for my left arm that cannot be lifted above my head.  All this occurred in good time, and we must have pulled out of the parking lot at 12:30. They had to be sure I didn’t drive away, and so Nurse L, pushed me in a wheel chair there, and waited for R to retrieve the car, and watched me enter the passenger seat .  B was there too, carrying the flowers and my stuff.  What would one do without friends?

So, off to Ellensburg, and home.  I’ll stop there.   Well, not quite yet.

I’m unhappy about the recovery time and limitations.  I cannot lift my left arm above my shoulder nor lift more than a coffee cup (one person said); another place on my release paperwork, says not more than 5 lbs. for 6 to 8 weeks–and NO driving.  That’s really going to cramp the style I’ve gotten used to over the past couple of months.  Cannot play my fiddle in the normal way– unable to keep it from over the incision.

I am going back for a device check at the Yakima Heart Center on Tuesday morning this week at 11:30, and R is going to be kind enough to drive me down again.  We can also pick up the device transmitter once there and ask more questions about playing the violin and driving.  Or, maybe I won’t ask, just figure how to cushion the area.

The bottom line is that I do have a new lease on life with the defibrillator installed.  So the story goes on.  [Next installment – Tuesday, the 8^th.]

Nancy, thanking you for all your thoughts and prayers in my behalf.

Nancy was inspected on Wednesday morning and found to be fit and promptly exited the hospital.  Seems they needed the room for someone that was actually in need of attention.

The odd thing is she seems to be experiencing more pain from the small incision than she did from having her sternum split with a reciprocating saw, slicing through various layers of flesh, and cutting her heart open.

Further, she is not supposed to move her left arm much, especially in the up direction, nor move anything heavy, nor drive, nor . . . the list is long.

She is taking enough pain medication that she isn’t even as active as she is allowed to be and thus has not described much of her experience.  On this coming Tuesday she has a follow-on appointment and will be given the bed-side electronic gizmo that will send digital reports to someplace out there in the “cloud” from where big sister/brother will watch over the functioning of her heart and their device.

Meanwhile, she is mostly resting.

Nancy says to get a new posting on her blog and she sent over a jumble of happenings, mostly written on Sunday.  The theme of all these things is that she is feeling better, growing stronger, and doing more everyday sorts of activities.  Anyone want to go to garage sales with her?

Our trip to bring the new horses home took about 4.5 hours.  For a potty stop, we exited the interstate highway about 15 miles short of our pick-up destination.  This short time coincided with the arrival of about 100 black leather-jacketed gents and ladies on motorcycles, upon questioning, Nancy found they were assembling to ride in a funeral procession for a local solider killed in Afghanistan.  The Yakima paper carried the story the next day.

We loaded the three horses and returned home, only Nancy left an hour later to play music. She puts it this way:  Yesterday I turned around and went to town to play music at the Retirement Center where they are able to get up and dance and are in good shape.  They always feed us too.  Yesterday it was homemade potato soup, best I’ve ever had, by a resident.  These are apartments – where folks are living –  not a care-center.  They do their own cooking and have their own apartments.  We entertain them and them us every second Saturday of the month, at 2:00 p.m..  It is really a rewarding experience for all involved.

On the way home yesterday from playing music, I stopped at a yard sale and got for $2.00 total the best deals of the century !!   —  Donation of a large roaster (to our riding club for baking beans); 3 pieces of clothing.  A nice blue denim shirt for John and a reversible yellow vest (looks brand new) [made of waterfowl feathers and parts and a little down] we both can use, and a great corduroy coat for me, with new quality too, and big brown buttons probably worth more than $2 paid for all.  Good day at only one yard sale that was on the way home.

Sunday a.m. we snuck out the back door (dogs out the front) and walked to the new horses and fed them and then out to the others past the barn and fed them, and then walked up through the woodlot to the road for the paper, and on the way there, we encounter 11 deer.  I did not have my camera along – too bad; but, really, we have dozens of deer photos and while some individuals are recognizable to us, they basically look like the deer that were here 10 and 20 years ago.

We walked back down the driveway.  That was probably six times as far as my original 1/2 trip up the drive with my walker a few weeks ago.  I am definitely improving, and no longer using the walker except in the grocery store.  Not in the pasture nor even holding on to John.  I’m on my own.  Well, I did take his arm to cross the small creek north of the barn, and while stepping on the edge of the plank to cross the irrigation ditch.  That’s where the older horses are getting their water now.

This morning John worked with the new mare, Cheyenne, in the round pen.  She had a halter on – we usually don’t have them on except as necessary – and she would not stand for him to take it off.  After 15 minutes going round and round – with many stops for reflection – her lungs convinced her brain that standing still makes good sense and then she got turned loose in the pasture.  The young gelding, Breeze, allows us to approach him with only minor apprehension on his part.  He is very curious – only 4 years old.

It is early and Nancy is still sleeping.  This week’s first three days have gone well.  At PT on Tuesday she worked hard and has sore muscles to show for it.  Her heart rate and blood pressure behaved properly and have remained so.  We have remained active by walking inside buildings such as the grocery store and others.  Outside – not so much.  Literally, the weather is frightful.  Just west of us, in the Cascade Mountains, a major snow storm is adding to the snow (aka – late season irrigation water for Yakima Valley fruit growers).  Here the little snow we are getting is going sideways – headed to Idaho, I think.  The sustained wind is in the mid-30s and gusts are expected as high as 50 mph.  Today is a music play-day for Nancy and friends so she will be active (upper body) and happy.  The new Physical Therapy place and Medicare came up with a 4-wheeled walker on day one.  She can walk nicely without holding on to it but it provides a seat for an occasional rest.  We returned the borrowed one and thereby made a return visit to the folks that got her off her back, out of bed, and mobile – they are now an important part of our memories.

We dropped our horse-trailer-pulling truck off yesterday so she had to drive, and will again, when we pick it up today.   Following open heart surgery one is warned not to do things that might stretch or pull on the stitches, such as whipping the steering wheel around and sliding through a hairpin turn.  However, because she was very ill in addition to the operation, by the time she could walk and move around those potential post-operative issues no longer were issues.  So my concern about her being alone while driving was more about the possibility of the car quitting.  She is good about taking her cell phone along, so there is less concern about this sort of thing than there once was.  Still, new and nearly new autos we have owned in the past have mysteriously stopped in the middle of nowhere and such are not fun to deal with even when there are no other worries.  (With a life involving field trailing, horses, and expanding our geographic knowledge and photo collections, we frequently have found ourselves in the middle of nowhere.)

The deli at our favorite grocery store makes a good chicken salad.  For Nancy they are now providing some with slight adjustments, namely they hold out onion and green peppers, package a pound for her, and then they continue with their makings.  At home I add hard boiled egg and a bit of shredded cheddar.  Okay, it’s not as good as a grilled steak but it’s not too bad, and most importantly Nancy eats it.  Is it too soon to claim this eating issue solved?

An interesting take on “knocking on wood”:

http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?_r=1&res=9801E2DD1E39E633A25756C1A9649C946596D6CF

And for expressions around the world:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knocking_on_wood

John and I are writing this the evening before but because of a time zone thing it will post after Midnight and will show up as being posted on April 1^st.  What a hoot.  We graduated from high school in 1961 and it was repeatedly pointed out to us (a) that 1961 reads the same up-side-down, and (b) as you go forth into the real world you will learn that your H.S. days will be the happiest days of your life.  Not true, but we heard that.

We started college the same year and “retire” was something old folks did and then sat in a rocking chair and waited for the USSR to vaporize our country with nukes.  Neither the prospect of retirement nor being vaporized was something we worried much about.  We never got nuked but, can you believe, we did retire.  The golden years are here.

Under John’s vigilant care, Nancy (with a major contribution by the State via CWU) has been stashing money away in mutual funds at 3 major companies.  One might think it would be simple to reverse the process by turning in a form saying “I retire” and the money, instead of going, would return.  You would be wrong in that thought.

There are boxes to be checked, forms to be filled in, signatures to be signed, witnessed, sealed, and delivered.  Do you want to keep funds with company A or transfer them to B, C, D, or . . .  Do you want it returned to you all at once or in significant gobs or little dribbles?  Shall you have a check sent to you or maybe via the flow of electrons to your bank; and would that be a checking or savings account?  And if you are hit by a big truck or fall out of the air from 33,000 feet in a silver sardine can – what then?  Truth is your retirement troubles begin before you retire.

Regarding medical/health/recovery issues:

The Good; The Not So Good; & The Bad:

The good news – – Nancy is back working with a physical therapist and had an active 45 minute session Wednesday afternoon.  Being the latest person to sign on (and the need indicated by the dearth of time slots) the next session is not until next week.  Then two a week.

The not so good news – – was another episode of food moving up when it should be going down.  The help-it-go-down medicine is a dangerous thing (both too much and too long have serious possibilities) so the doctor’s recommendation is to switch out a heart-regulator for a different one.  Someone (to go unnamed but she knows who she is) suggested ordering a 3-month supply of the meds, which we did.  Can one sell Amiodarone on E-Bay?  The new med is generic “metoprolol” and is also sold as Toprol-XL®.

The really bad news – – is that these drugs come with concocted names no one can remember, spell, or pronounce and 2 pages or more of small print “patient counseling” instructions.

Retire.  Enjoy life.  Read.  Right!

It looks like the current plan is working, namely, one new pill before eating and a short walk after eating and as little salt as pragmatism permits.

I think of the new medication as the pump-priming-pill.  It tells the stomach to get ready to process food so when the food arrives 30 minutes later the muscles are not caught dozing.  They are ready to pump it on through to the next sequence in the digestive process. Since last Thursday’s supper this seems to be working.

We’ve taken several short walks each day.  Usually we head out the back door and pass through a gate into a corner of the horse pasture.  When the horses are near one or more will come over for a little TLC.  So far we haven’t take carrots or other treats because they can get a little frisky under such conditions.  At this stage we don’t need frisky!  We circle through a bit of the pasture and past the small barn and the water trough and so we can keep track of the water level.  Our other path is out the front door and up to the mail box.  Either trip is about 150 yards.  Today was wet and cold and Nancy had a blood draw scheduled so after that we went to the grocery story and walked and shopped.  On Sat & Sun the walks followed the eating but today it didn’t work that way and the pill, food, stomach things still seem to be working.

The low salt aspect is more difficult.  The grocery makes a nice chicken salad and so Nancy has had cereal for breakfast and chicken salad for her other meals.  To break the monotony I simmered thick pork steaks with chopped onions and a can of chopped tomatoes until the meat was very tender.  With this she got sliced peaches and mashed potatoes.  We trekked through the grocery store to the deli counter to buy another pound of chicken salad only to find an empty larder.  So, …  The rotisserie lemon-chickens were on sale.

Using telephone and e-mail, we have spent much time over the weekend updating and getting updated about our lives and that of others from our past.  Some of you will remember that I (John) used to write a somewhat convoluted Christmas/New Year’s story and mail it out.  Then the internet arrived big time and the frequent back-&-forth with some led to a decline and then cessation of mailings.  Nancy’s troubles have generated many reconnections and catching-up.  We expect to keep at this.  With Nancy’s time not being consumed by teaching duties and other university (insert four letter word here), we no longer have an excuse for not keeping up with friends from other times and places.

Well, she just told me she took that pump-priming-pill (P³) 10 minutes ago so I’ve got just 20 minutes to not disappoint that stomach.  Bye.

The local hospital refers to where Nancy was as a Critical Care Unit. If I figure out how that differs from and Intensive Care Unit, I’ll let you know.

It is now 7:30 P.M. and we have been home about 15 minutes.

Nancy was discharged earlier this evening with instructions for a very low salt diet and continued exercise.  The consensus is that her entry into the hospital on Monday was a result of her heart not being vigorous enough to do its work because of too much salt, too much liquid, and lack of movement.  They don’t call it congestive heart failure for nothing.

The stomach issue is thought to be a result of too little stomach activity over the last 3 months but the test today did not reveal any severe problem.  A medication to improve the physical flexing of the stomach has been started and a prescription written.  The idea is to encourage the stomach to force food along its intended pathway and not let it just hangout there.  Reading material provided indicates that this problem should lessen with appropriate food preparation, medication, and exercise.

A physical therapist had to check her out before the hospital would release her.  He was from the place the insurance company approved – associated with the hospital – for outpatient visits.  We will visit at 9:30 on Friday morning and plan on therapy visits starting next week.

Nancy ate at the hospital after taking one of the new meds.  I have horses, dogs, and me to feed – and the dishes need washed.

I’ll add more about this week’s events for Friday’s post.

John had an annual medical physical scheduled for Tuesday at 2 P.M. and then the return drive from Cle Elum.  We might have gone for a short physical therapy walk up the driveway but with him on his return he brought the infamous Valley wind – from the northwest and off the snow covered Cascade Mountains.  When he got home the temperature was 63^o F and an hour later it was 53^o F with sustained wind at 37 mph and gusts to 46 mph.  He (John) bundled up and went out to give the horses hay.

We didn’t go for the short walk up the driveway as on previous days, and that was fine with me.  Monday’s trip was a bit much.  The first 40 yards of the driveway is up a slight grade, not much, but noticeable.  I didn’t take the walker and so used John as support but that meant I didn’t have a place to sit and rest as we went.  While I can walk, fast and far are not part of the descriptors – slow and exhausting fit.  In the Rehab physical terror room they monitor my heart rate and when it passes 85 bpm we stop, it drops, and we start again.  I tried to mimic this routine but without a continuous monitor I was going just be my sensing my heart rate.  I made it to the road (about 100 yards) and back.  That was enough to do me for two days.  I was saved by the cold west wind today.

Much of my time these two days was taken with routine and not so routine computer chores.  I wasted a lot of time repairing access to Safari on my university account.  First, before finding out I had been denied access because of more than 3 attempts to get to my account with the wrong password, I took the advice of the Help Desk and deleted Windows Explorer 8 from my system, added Vers. 7, and then had to download and install all new XP security updates.  What a pain.  When that didn’t help I then learned of the 3-bad-tries-and-you-are-blocked rule.  I did NOT have to go through all the other at all and I’m back to having an old version of Explorer installed too.  Bummer.

Much of the rest of Monday was spent learning again how to put a web page out on my site – I use a server in Texas.  I wanted to upload information John collected and photographed for the weather station and include air photos taken by a friend.  I was busy for several hours getting the package “just right” and going back and forth with a couple of friends on the procedure – including clickable thumbnails to link to the large image files.  Soon this info will join over 1,000 others in a weather station atlas for the country.   http://www.surfacestations.org/

We had a call from the doctor’s office that my insurance provider approved the out-patient physical therapy from the place where I was.  I only have till March 31, to complete those.  It will also require a co-pay of $25 / visit.  Once I am more sure of myself and things I should be doing, it might be cheaper to join a health club for a few months.  We’ll see.