Update for the Family

This entry is really just for family -- it's merely a recitation of Hubby's current health condition.  Of course, you can read it if you want -- but the contents are really boring. 

We are heading into a seven day period of major doctoring for Hubby -- and hoping beyond hope that we get some answers. 

Tomorrow Hubby starts off with his second physical therapy session at 7:30 in the morning.  Needless to say he is going to those by himself.  He claims, though, that he likes the exercises and he thinks they will improve his balance and walking considerably. 

At 11:00 we meet with the Cardiology Clinic associated with Midwest Heart Associates and Dr. Wineburg, our new cardiologist.  This is a group of nurses who monitor meds and are available 24 / 7 for consultation.  They also act as liaisons between all the doctors we are seeing. 

Hubby gets a rest then until Monday when he goes to Research Hospital admitting -- and though he isn't being admitted, he is being fitted for a heart monitor and has a full day of appointments around the monitor. 

On Tuesday he meets with a pulmonary specialist, again at Research Hospital. At least a full morning has been carved out for this appointment, necessitating our moving his third physical therapy appointment to another date. 

We get a little break for Thanksgiving but the week after we start again, this time seeing our general physician, Dr. Patel, who will be back from his honeymoon and then with another cardiology specialist with Midwest Heart Associates to see what other options are open to us. 

The blessing in all this, of course, is that Dr. Wineburg has followed through on everything he heard us talk about in our meeting.  We may not be able to solve all Hubby's heart problems, we may not even get answers we want to hear, but we will get some response to our concerns -- and at least we know we are being heard and the doctors are concerned.  

The physical therapy is addressing Hubby's tiredness and weakness.  The pulmonary specialist will look at the lingering lung problems and congestion that Hubby repeatedly experiences.  We know the heart can not be repaired and we have reached the limits on the meds that Hubby can take for relief from the A-Fib so now we will investigate what else we can do -- if anything.  At least we will have covered all our bases. 

Hubby had a pretty good weekend, taking care of me, walking dogs, having dinner with dear friends on Sunday night.  By Monday he was down for the entire day -- never moved from the bed.  On Tuesday he had his first PT (physical therapy) appointment and managed to walk the dogs in the morning, while I took the afternoon shift.  Then he drove me to the store and we got our Thanksgiving turkey.  Today was a good day, though I got the early morning dog walking in the park and the "take-out-the-trash" duty.  By the time I'd returned from the park and made breakfast, Hubby was ready to take off for the morning.  Now, he's napping once again, but he's not had as much trouble breathing as last week and he is manfully sticking to his no-salt diet (we won't even mention the ice cream he's had for the last three days). 

This is the time of year where people are counting blessings and we know that we have been given so much.  I'm especially grateful that I was able to retire this year -- I can't imagine how much more difficult things would have been for us if I were working every day.  Medicare is a real god-send -- we could never afford all these specialists without it. Finally, we thank each of you for your kindnesses and prayers during this time -- the dinners prepared just for us, the soup send home to calm upset tummies, the phone calls, the emails, the events planned for outside the house -- it all means more than we can express.   

Pulling Together

Thursday night a friend treated me to dinner and a show.  It had been a rather rough day, what with Luie pooping massive, steaming piles in the living room around 5 a.m. and I felt grumpy and out of sorts.  By afternoon I felt tired and "not quite myself" but enjoyed the process of getting dressed in something other than jeans and a tee-shirt for an evening out.  

Dinner was wonderful and the show was entertaining, but mainly the shared friendship made the evening a big success.  When I left home, I reminded Hubby that there was plenty of food in the house, all he needed to do was microwave some chicken soup or make himself a low sodium chicken / ham sandwich.  On my return, I round he hadn't eaten dinner -- in fact, he hadn't moved from the bed.  I fixed him some cornbread and soup and noticed that I felt fairly queasy.  By midnight I was pretty miserable and by 2 a.m. I had a pretty decent case of the "24-hour misery" -- what we used to call the 24- hour flu but is actually gastroenteritis.  For the next 18 hours I was down for the count.

By 6 a.m. I warned Hubby that there was no way in h*ll I could walk those dogs so he manfully climbed out of bed, donned his turtleneck and set out, boys in tow.  At 11:00 he was out in the kitchen making chili -- now Hubby's chili is a "too-die" for dish - but not when you can't keep anything down, including soda crackers.  Still, there was food for himself -- and there was still chicken soup left over from a friend's ministrations earlier in the week. 

For 24 hours Hubby re-manned the household.  Of course he didn't do any dishes in the kitchen but he made sure the boys were exercised, the 7-Up was stocked, and the covers were pulled tight.  I really didn't resurface until late afternoon on Friday, and then only to slurp down some of that delicious smelling chili and head right back to bed.  Yesterday I walked the dogs -- but it wasn't until afternoon (and I think they were grateful that we were finally back to longer walkies which Hubby really can no longer accomplish).  We took in a movie in the afternoon -- Hubby wanted to see Denzel in Flight (bah!  I lived with a drunk -- I don't want to watch one on the screen for over two hours -- I know what the behavior is like) and then we both headed home and to bed. 

Today it's rainy and turning cold but the boys and I headed out for a morning circle in the park -- they both produced pee and poop right away knowing that to do so would get us back out of the rain quickly.  It is good to know as we continue to age, that we can pull together enough to make sure this household continues to function no matter our current health situation, Hubby, me AND the boys.  I felt incredibly grateful for Hubby on Friday -- sometimes I'm impatient with this chronic heart condition but when the chips are down, we find we still can pull together as a family unit. 

Exercise Part II -- or the Dog Saga Reprise

Luie, Gus, and I have just returned from our morning "romp / bah! humbug!" walk in the park (you can guess which two think it's a romp).  As always, I return amazed at how brilliant my two pups are -- each in their own unique, incredible ways.

Luie does not greet other dogs appropriately and because of his energy and putting his nose where it really doesn't belong can start a growling, leaping dust-up.  This requires that Gussie -- half Luie's size --  must get right in the middle and start a full fledged fight.  Left to his own devices, Gus is friendly and out-going and knows every dog in the park.  Regardless of their size, he runs with them.  Actually, because Gus can NOT really run but pumps all four legs at the same time, he hops around with them -- but he's having fun and he's chasing after a big quarry, so it's all good. 

Luie is always on leash because of the blindness and this also hampers his interaction with other dogs.  When we find the labs and goldens in the park we skirt them, letting Gus interact as he can until he becomes tired and joins us at the edge of the park, as Luie and I amble from interesting smell to strange bushes inhabited by urban city park creatures. 

Yesterday all day was bad for me -- because it began with wiping up, disposing of, and the desmelling piles of runny poop left in the early morning hours by Luie.  Normal poop no longer fazes me -- but yesterday's steaming piles left me queasy and out-of-sorts all day long.  Luie was pretty much in my inner doghouse from 7 a.m. until bedtime. 

Gus, on the other paw, and I have begun to have "chats."  I tell him in simple language what I'm expecting.  I take his little beard in my hand, look him deeply in the eyes (he's always been a dog who enjoys staring contests with you -- except he has these baleful, huge eyes that just lure you right into his heart -- and they plead for love the entire time) and I tell him what I'd like him to do. "Gus," eye contact made, "Please come when I call your name.  You can run wherever you want, but when I call you must come right away." 

For three days now Gus has roamed the park at will, but always with his head and body alert to where Luie and I are walking.  One, "Gus" from me has brought him trotting right up to us to rub against my legs and let me know that he's obeying.  Moreover, he comes with joy and delight in his steps.  I'm incredibly impressed.  We've had Gus six years now - and I didn't realize that right before me he had turned into the very sweetest dog we had ever owned. 

I had known that our first pound Schnauzer, Miss Milly, was the strongest willed dog we'd ever had.  She truly was the Queen of all she surveyed.  She was also incredibly wily and could get around her family with ease, making sure HER needs were met at all times. Wolfie, Schnauzer #2,  had been my heart dog -- he loved me (and eventually Hubby -- but that took a lot on Hubby's part to get there) with a fierceness that will never, ever be replaced.  To Wolf I could do no wrong and he would die trying to make sure he had pleased me.  My heart will never heal from his loss. 

Fritzy, from a pound in Ottawa, Kansas,  was the scamp.  He wanted top billing in our household -- he was wiling to concede that place to Hubby but he never, ever gave me a secure second billing.  Every three months or so I'd have to turn him upside down and lay across him on the bed to remind him who was stronger.  He was also a sneak -- we never stopped him from peeing in the fine china tea cups and tea pot collection on the bottom self of the stereo cabinet.  He would growl at me when I'd try to get in bed with Hubby.  It was an on-going battle, even to the end. 

Gussie came when Wolf died, poor little boy.  At that point I didn't want another dog -- I only wanted Wolfie.  Fritzy, who loved Wolfie too, had gone under the bed and would only come out for car rides.  Hubby found Gussie in the same pound where we had adopted Fritzy and the two were immediate friends. 

Gussie doesn't seem to choose sides in the family.  Always before the dog had aligned with either Hubby or me but Gus, he's one-dog-fits-all type.  Even though Fritzy's pee scent was still in the house, Gussie did not pee on it.  He knew to pee and poop outside and that's what he does.  He loves his food but he's not aggressive or greedy about it.  He learned quickly to walk without a leash -- streets are "no-no's" and sidewalks are good.  Now he's relearned to come immediately when called, and he does it willingly.  He's friendly with adults and likes other dogs.  He shares the bed space while still wanting to cuddle with his humans.  He's a little pansy where pain is concerned -- he's the first moaner and whimpering dog we've ever had.  But he has his reasons, too -- instead of the sleek Schnauzer body, his is squat, with short legs.  He's almost always two to three pounds overweight, no matter how we monitor his diet.  He can't jump well -- and he has to be lifted into our bed.  His teeth rot faster than an unpeeled banana left in the sun.  His gait is off and he moves his legs in unison instead of like a galloping dog -- still he loves to run and does it every chance he gets.  He's prone to skin allergies and we are usually treating him for some kind of lesion around his head or neck and trying to keep him from scratching.  Razor burn from his grooming is a particular problem. 

Gus is very independent.  He did not mourn Fritzy's untimely death from kidney disease.  He accepted Luie, who absolutely adores him, with aplomb -- almost indifference.  It's Luie who always initiates interaction.  He travels well and does not complain if he's in a car for 12 to 16 hours at a time.  He believes, however, that on short rides the front seat, especially my lap, is his prerogative, even if he doesn't want to sit on it -- Luie had better NOT try.  On long trips he likes to have a pile of pillows in the back seat for lolling and snoozing.  He does not play with toys -- I think because his teeth are so bad.

The honest truth is -- that I'm learning more and more each and every day -- Gussie is the perfect little boy and exercise partner at the park.  If only his vet bills were not always in the upper three figure (sometimes four figure) range. 

Gus watching Luie whirling after a Christmas toy

I started this post two days ago about exercise -- honestly, I did.  I do have an exercise story to tell.  Yesterday Hubby met with a physical therapist and I joined a gym for a year.  This is probably the most interesting news in our lives -- but I keep getting distracted by my wonderful doggies.  Tomorrow I'll tell you about the gym.

Exercise

The title is misleading.  I do NOT exercise.  I hate exercise.  As the years pass I have become more and more sedentary.  When I was teaching I had to walk long halls to get anywhere from my classroom so at least I could say I did some walking.  But exercise?  Um, NO! 

Hubby has walked the dogs since I went back to teaching -- well, actually before that, but certainly for the last six years.  I walked our first dog, Miss Milly, all over the neighborhood and the city parks -- but then finances decreed that I find work and my really dog walking days pretty much ended. 

Hubby also walked the boys this summer even after I retired.  But then, in September he got much, much sicker and it finally became my turn to take over all job walking details.  Hubby, being a morning person, unfortunately trained Luie that unless you were walking in the park before 8 a.m. you could poop under the grand piano in the living room at 8:01.  I've been unable to retrain him so since September I'm out in the park between 7:15 and 7:45 walking, walking, walking. 

It took some retraining of the pups, let me tell you.  Hubby didn't care if Luie tried to pull him over -- Luie, being being blind is always on the leash.  Gus, never on the leash, had learned the calling of his name meant you could turn your body in the opposite direction and just wander off.  During the trip to Williamsburg, Gus learned how to rewalk on a leash -- he got just one time to turn and walk away from me before we had a "come to Mama!" meeting and the leash went right back on him until he knew to come when he was called.  Now, he's once again able to walk leash free in the park because he knows the consequences of not coming the moment I beckon.  Luie is still learning that everything comes to a dead standstill the moment he starts tugging the leash, trying to direct the movements of our travels, but he's doing better. 

It also took some retraining for me to get out of that bed every single morning (weekends are NOT time off for good behavior!) and put on massive amounts of clothing and shoes so we can hike our way for 30 minutes around the park.  I had to learn not to curse so loud that everybody within ear shot could hear.  I also had to keep remembering it wasn't the dogs' fault or Hubby's fault that early morning walks had become the habit and now I was stuck having to continue that god-awful time frame.  It just was what it was and I had to come to gripes with it. 

So, every morning I'm out there, plodding through the pine cones and acorns and flying squirrels and chirping birds.  I'm not enjoying it but I'm doing it. The dogs are better for it because Hubby had gotten so he couldn't really walk with them -- and poor Luie was stuck going in small circles while Papa sat on the park bench and Gussie went off the wandered alone.  Now we get in some pretty good runs before our park time ends.  Papa is home in bed sipping hot tea (which I have to make before I leave the house) instead of gasping his way in the cold, dark morning air.  And me?  Well, I'm walking which is a form of exercise. . . I guess.  It's not up to aerobic speeds yet, but we are consistent in our daily ambles. 

Practicing Good Citizenship

 Hubby and I just returned from casting our vote(s). 

Good thing:   we did NOT cancel each other out; on liberal politics we both agree. 

Bad thing:  many of the ballots had been misprinted on the borders (not on the candidates) so they were not being scanned by the electronic submission machine, though the ballots were accepted as valid. 

Good thing:  the minority community was out in force. Liberals unite! 

Bad thing:   -- very long lines, too few tables because of the huge crowd -- and we picked a time that was supposed to be after or before the big rush occurring between 7 and 9 in the morning and 4 and 7 in the evening.  Our polling place was way too small for the crowd that showed up.

Good thing:  our polling place was way too small for the crowd that showed up -- young, old, wheelchairs, lame, blind, white and black -- our voting place was a microcosm of the world and people were excited to vote!

Bad thing:  Hubby was completely exhausted by the process because the wait was too long and the crowds too heavy and the room way too small so there was no place to sit and it was beastly hot.  Plus -- why don't the election judges know their alphabet?  

Good thing:  we have hope that right will prevail, politicians will finally try to work together, and our country will remain democratic, ethical, and generous. 

Forward!

Sledding

Hubby is not doing well at all.  Things seem to be going downhill rapidly and we are both thoroughly frightened by the fact that he can't seem to recover and no one really understands what is happening.

We know for a fact that the A Fib has progressed but can still be controlled.  We know that his heart rate is still way too fast when he's moving around but at rest he approaches normal.  We know that we can control his blood pressure -- though when he feels rotten it does climb.  Frankly, I'm letting the diabetes take care of itself -- I can only get him to eat low salt OR low sugar, and right now the low salt is more important. 

What we can't seem to get a grip on is the nasal / throat congestion that makes him feel like he is drowning.  The minute he tries to rest, or God forbid go to sleep, he begins this awful hacking and clearing of his throat -- and he becomes unable to get words out or breathe easily.  Immediately his blood pressure and heart rate climb, as he becomes less and less able to breathe easily. 

I'm convinced the super-duper drug dosages are giving him bad dreams and now whenever he goes into even a light sleep, he starts to talk.  The night before last he kept telling us (dogs and me) "get in the back seat."  Last night he kept dreaming about shoes, probably because on Wednesday I went out and bought two pairs of very expensive and ugly shoes to get me through the winter.  Now that I'm dog walking daily, I need shoes that don't have mesh tops.  Anyway, Hubby has taken to talking quite loudly, sometimes incoherently but more and more he makes sense -- and he keeps it up all night long.  It's hard for the rest of us to get any sleep with all the hacking, coughing, wheezing, and yelling going on in the bedroom.

Today he's got the upset stomach.  Yesterday around 4 p.m. he rallied a bit and we went for drive.  But Thursday and Friday he spent all day in bed.  Today we're back to the bed, moaning while watching hours upon hours of college football and heading for the bathroom on a regular basis.  

All the while, he's refusing to do much of anything for himself.  He just lost the TV's remote control in the bed and called me to find it for him.  What?  He couldn't sit up to find the remote he was using?  At noon he decided he needed to eat -- but the Salisbury steak I had fixed yesterday, especially for him, would not do.  He needed more tuna fish salad.  Luckily I had the eggs already hard boiled.

We had multiple doctor appointments for this week.  I'm praying we get some answers.  Frankly, we're reaching the end of our proverbial rope(s).  

 

Home

We are home from the hospital and Hubby is better, if not cured.  It is so good just to have him around and being his own cantankerous self. 

Cooking is problematic, of course, because no salt and then no leafy greens and then no sugar -- and he's a major picky eater.  But we have a shelf of Penzy spices for substitution and I made a very small meatloaf which he enjoyed -- just onions, bread, eggs, Penzy's.  Then we have a huge vat of homemade tuna salad chilling -- and he's been very happy with tuna sandwiches.  Plus I crock-potted a lovely roast (which he can't really eat because of the larynx problems -- he can't swallow it very well) with lots of small potatoes and carrots -- and then made gravy from the juices.  So adding the gravy to his potatoes and over his meatloaf (no salt in the gravy, I promise -- and all the fat was skimmed away), he's been eating pretty well and even getting his fresh veggies in what with the carrots.

He's still pretty congested but nothing like it was all last week.  He manages to sleep a little better at night and didn't even have to sit up for part of the night last night.  Lou, our dear friend, lent him a pillow wedge which has helped keep him propped up at night.  His heart is still racing, his larynx is still not moving, he still has a lot of throat congestion - but he's coping.  Which means, of course, that I am back to coping, also.  

Nothing makes my heart sing or the dogs more energetic than having Papa home.