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Musings on anything. |
 My blog was filled up. I'm too lazy to clean it out. So I started a new one. |
| You probably have heard it said that on a healthy diet, if it tastes good, spit it out. That may be true. No processed foods. I am addicted to processed foods, like pot pies, and instant noodle dinners. No, no, no. And no Chik Fil' A. They used to say no Big Macs, but apparently the nugget has moved them down the list. No sugary drinks, no carbonated drinks, no salt added. Carry your own low sodium dressings to restaurants. No fried foods. No Chinese food unless you are really picky when ordering brown, un-buttered rice and avoid soy sauce dishes. And no guacamole anywhere! How long can you stand unsweetened oatmeal every morning? I think I like pot pies because they have gravy, at least the store bought ones do. Gravy, cheese, and chocolate are my favorite foods, just not all at once. They are not allowed any longer. Woe is me. I have to restrict my bread intake. Skipping butter and mayo is not a problem. I had already cut back on meat, with only the occasional slice of bacon. but the bacon is out now. Even chicken and turkey from the deli because of the sodium content. And if I indulge in the occasional dessert or treat when visiting, I must exercise immediately. Not to burn off calories, but to fire up the sugar content. You don't want sugar stored in your kidneys after taking a lot of heart medicines (years worth-I was never advised that I was trading a functioning heart for damaged kidneys). So now I'm drinking mostly water, eating boring meals, and exercising a lot for an old woman. I guess there's always a trade-off when it comes to medicine. Very little comes without side effects. Thank goodness smoking and alcohol were never a problem for me. |
| Spring has sprung. I have to make daily trips to the side of my house, by the AC unit, to look at my Easter lilies coming up through the ground. You put one plant in the ground, next year, you have several. In nature, they bloom in June, not at Easter. The deer will eat them when blooming, but they leave the leaves alone. Hostas and tulips they eat to the ground. I watch the irises coming up like watching water boil. I dread the ants that will come with the fragrant peonies. I also dread the honeybees that infested my windows last year and mosquitoes which try to make me miserable and run me back into the house. For now, it's just the pollen to dread. Then there's the creeping charley that has taken over my lawn, creeps under the landscape timbers and tries to root in the flower beds. This year, I have a rose bush that leapt up this winter and threaded itself through the roof of a birdhouse. The birdhouse needs some repair but I hate to cut the rose bush. It's unique. I am limited in what I can attempt until I get a release from my cardiologist. But I'm anxious to get to my yard work and reorganizing my laundry room. Soon, I hope. |
| While convalescing, I have watched a lot of movies. My favorites have been musicals. Good old stand-byes I've seen many times before. After watching Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, I concluded I like watching men dance. That includes Oklahoma, which I watched the following week, and Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire in almost anything. Even Frank Sinatra did a few song and dance movies with Gene. This past weekend I saw Kiss Me Kate again, and loved watching James Whitmore, not a dancer, sing and dance to "Brush Up Your Shakespeare". I like Howard Keel and Kathryn Grayson, but after Seeing Taylor and Burton in The Taming of the shrew, Keel and Grayson fall a little short in the acting department, I've also learned to identify Carole Lombard and Joan Fontaine. I recognized "Granny" (Beverly Hillbillies) Irene Ryan, onMy Dear Secretary with Kirk Douglas, not a musical, but pretty old black and white. I'm calling it educational. |
| Today, I got to remove the heart monitor and get it ready for shipping. Then I took a shower and washed my hair with no fear of getting the thing wet. I made a special trip to the main post office, driving myself for the first time in two weeks. Got home with no incident, no worse for wear. I went down 7 steps to get out of my split level, and back up when I got home, but, shhh, don't tell my brother. I am behaving otherwise. The main words in the instruction are "no unnecessary steps" or "bending from the waist". Sometimes a few things are necessary. The bending I believe has to do with avoiding getting dizzy or light headed, so I move slowly. I'm still using those instructions to avoid housework a little longer. |
| Someone gave me a craft kit while I was in the hospital. I didn't open it, because I could see there were far too many parts to manage. Once home I took a look at it. I wasn't excited about it, but I knew I could handle it. So I have decided to think of it as recreational therapy. Granted I do not get very far before hand cramps set in. That's why I have abandoned cross-stitch, crocheting, and embroidery. I can't hold a paperback book for long before the hands give me the devil. It is unrelated to other health problems. It's not muscles or joints, just nerves gone wild. Heat doesn't help, and Lord, no, I can't touch them or massage them without going through the roof with pain. So a little at a time, I am putting together what will be felt Christmas trees on wooden platforms. The instructions were a little hard to understand until I started doing them. I feel like a child or an invalid going through required course that is supposed to be good for me. The end result will look okay, not spectacular. I probably would not buy anything like them. I keep telling myself, I'm old now. I can do simple things like this and let friends and family pat me on the back. My hands are busy and my mind might be a little too free. |
| I am getting a little stronger each day. A friend reminded me on the phone that I shouldn't expect too much too soon. it's only been two weeks today since I was under heavy anesthesia and had a plastic valve installed in my heart. So I need to go for my afternoon walk now. I can't wait until I am allowed to go down my own stairs in my house. I get to take off the heart monitor Friday and mail it in, so I am looking forward to not having that contraption taped to my chest. And I will be able to take a shower and wash my hair when it's off. I have to change my attitude about so many things. I will become one of the fussy people who makes my own salad dressing to avoid sodium overkill. You can buy tomatoes in cans with no salt added, but not tomato sauce or paste. Fast food is pretty much a thing of the past, darn it. I may not be able to go back to my volunteer activities. I may have to hang out with old people more, and realize I'm not doing them a favor: I'm one of them. I will have to learn to talk about other people and their concerns, maybe even the news, rather than assume I am an acceptable topic of conversation. My period of self-indulgence, along with my recovery, is coming to an end. I need to prepare myself mentally for my next chapters (notice the plural). This doesn't end any time soon. |
| I became my father's caretaker. He was the boss. We did what he wanted when he wanted and he wasn't always happy about it. Gradually, I started going with him to the doctor because I didn't trust him to come home and give an accurate diagnosis. Eventually, I became his chauffeur, then wheel chair pusher, and the doctor knew to discuss everything with me. Soon he was totally reliant on me for driving, unless he got a wild hair and went off alone on a short errand. That part was scary. At first I felt intrusive, even bossy, but he seemed to rely on my memory and judgment. He had no privacy and could no longer be his independent self. So I left him alone to garden or piddle in the garage or yard. He still had physical strength and could feel in charge of some things. He begged me to take him home from the hospital at the end, but I couldn't provide the care he needed, like oxygen, at home. His temperament and dementia made him a difficult patient. Now I am recovering from a serious surgery. I am not suffering from dementia, but I do have a few relatives who want to treat me like an invalid. I am slowly coming around, but still have things I cannot do by myself. I want my independence back. Unlike my dad, there may be some hope for me becoming self-reliant once again. We are reminded we are not islands, and must interact with and appreciate others. |
| Today I wanted to celebrate. My pulse was 41! The only time I felt a little off balance was when I tossed some clean wet sweat pants over the shower rod to dry. I stumbled backwards into the bathroom sink. I decided it was time to change out of house slippers into real shoes. I had on compression socks and was otherwise dressed: I had just balked at shoes. The only reason I had this incident was that my laundry room is downstairs where I can't go. A family member had washed a load of casual clothes, but didn't have time to run the dryer. I said I need clean clothes. "Bring them up here and I will hang them." I can only blame myself and be thankful I went backwards at the correct angle. Another plus for recovery time is that no one cares how you look. Wrinkled, super casual. All okay as long as they're not stained or smelly. I can remember wearing nice clothes to the doctor's office, but no one seems to do that any longer. I think I will eventually stop griping. Either things will get better or I will learn to live with them as they are. |
| I am moving around one floor of my house as I feel like it. Slow to be sure. My blood pressure is low. My pulse is in the 30's. I am trying to be low sodium, but some friends have brought me food out of the kindness of their hearts, with no regard to sodium. My taste buds are altering and I cant stand salty food any more. They were told in advance, but I guess most people don't know how to think low or no salt. My doctor has warned me about standing or sitting too fast and getting swimmy headed. I can't drive for another week, but I don't want to unless my vitals get better. There's no leaking inside my heart which is crucial to this whole ordeal. It will be a while before I start to feel normal they tell me. Maybe by summer, I'll have renewed energy. One can hope. Meanwhile I have excuses for prolonged rerun watching, crosswords, etc. I can't bend to pick up things I drop, so I have an excuse to have a messy house for a week or so. I'm too spaced out to read. Provided healing does happen, the day of reckoning will happen. |
| I only missed four days, but it feels like much longer. I was in tremendous pain, had some uncontrollable bleeding issues and am just plain exhausted. My blood pressure got creepy low, my body temp didn't register, and my pulse was 38 I had to wonder if I was on the way out. They told me, it was dehydration, losing so much blood, and not eating for two days. They adjusted some medications to try to offset some problems. Being glued to a bed for days didn't help. I am going to try to have a positive focus and follow instructions- No unnecessary bending from the waist, no step climbing for two weeks, no lifting, no vacuuming, no lifting wet laundry. I have to time some inside walking and increase a few minutes each day. I don't have as much enthusiasm afterwards as I did before, but I am hopeful that will change as I get stronger. |
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