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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/452270-Starting-over-again
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Rated: GC · Book · Experience · #1151935
My thoughts, emotions, frustrations. In short, my life such as it is.
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#452270 added September 3, 2006 at 11:28am
Restrictions: None
Starting over again
Well, due to my being a dutiful daughter, mother, nurse, and everything else, I was late getting my membership renewed and lost several items in my portfolio including my journal. Since it wasn't that interesting anyway it's no real biggie.

After caring for my father for a year and a half after his massive heart attack, my stepmother up and had to have open heart too. Receiving a frantic early morning call from my father, I rushed up to his house (thank God I live so close) to find my stepmother in the midst of a heart attack. I couldn't get a blood pressure on her and she was sweating so badly I could barely get the cuff on. I gave her one of my fathers' nitroglycerin and, thank the Lord, her chest pain immediately resolved. Of course once she was feeling better she did not want to go to the hospital. Even the ambulance attendants were trying to coax her. Finally, my father put his foot down and took her.

A cardiac cath was done and revealed a 75% blockage of her left main coronary artery. Since that artery leads to all the other arteries on the left side of the heart, she had no real choice but to have surgery. She didn't want to until the doctor and I explained that should it block off completely, she would not survive. Not without a left ventricle. Surgery was done the following morning.

As it happens, she has had several complications from the surgery to include fluid between the pleural sac and the lung which is slowly resolving but still causing problems. She has also had some severe hypotensive episodes due to medications that were given to strengthen her heart. She did not have any muscle damage with the episode so she was fortunate in that.

Needless to say, it is the daughter who is the nurse that they depend on for med clarification, unusual or disturbing symptoms, any and every little health complaint. They have literally run me ragged for the past few months. Especially my father. He seems to think he can stop his meds because he feels good. Then he has a relapse and can't understand why. When I tell him the meds are why he is doing well and feeling good, he looks at me like I'm speaking alien. ARGGGGHHHHHH! I get so angry at him sometimes but keeping my patience is a major chore at times. The man is sooooo stubborn.

So, between caring for them, my family, and working my ass off, I am now paying the piper, so to speak.
My rheumatoid arthritis has flared up worse than it has in several years and now I am the one hurting and miserable. I have put on massive doses of steroids, another auto immune drug, Plaquenil, in addition to the Methotrexate, and a different antidepressant which I welcomed. Being ill makes me irritable. It's worse with this since I know it's my own body attacking itself. I don't know why I get so angry at myself but I do. It's not like I'm doing it on purpose.

I look at my hands now and it absolutely makes my heart drop. I knew eventually I would have to deal with the arthritic nodules that accompany rheumatoid arthritis but I have been fortunate for years not to have any deformities. That isn't the case now. My hands are becoming ugly with crooked fingers, especially my thumbs, which are bent to the sides. I didn't realize that once the nodules starting forming how quickly they could deform the joints. I'm not really self concious of them yet unless someone remarks on them but as they grow more deformed looking I'm sure I will be. I have never had attractive hands but now they are on their way to becoming grotesque. Thank goodness I have adapted to writing in a compensatory manner. Typing is much easier since it doesn't require the finger bending writing does. All in all I quess it's not too bad. At least I can still use them. My hips and wrists are getting bad and my back is definitely becoming a victim of this disease.

One day I will look back, proabably from a wheelchair, and wish I was at the point I am now. For now all I can do is pray. "Lord, please allow me to continue to care for myself and not become a burden to my family." That's all I ask.






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