Getting Physical

On my bucket list for things to do once I retired was joining the Research Hospital Brookside Campus gym.  Hubby calls it a spa.  Either way, it's a cool place with a fabulous pool for both swimming AND walking.  Even better, the pool is always heated to 84 degrees -- which makes it almost as good as bath water (not quite, but nearly).

When Hubby was prescribed physical therapy at the Brookside Campus, I went with him for the evaluation and a tour of the facility -- and though I had heard of the wonders of this pool, in person it was even better than I supposed.  And the real selling point (besides the warm waters) was the price:  $29 a month OR $290 for a year.  And the second membership came in at $250 a year.  How could we pass that up?  We joined immediately. 

It took me two weeks to work up enough courage to go to my first water aerobics class (all the classes offered by the center are FREE!!!!!).  I had read the descriptions of the water classes and I picked the one that looked the least energetic (no swimming required, feet are kept on the pool floor at all times) and daunting. 

Hubby refused to attend with me, of course (no water touches his delicate skin).  And the class was pretty informal -- it just kind of started with no big announcement and I had to ask if this was actually aerobics class and what should I do to participate. 

Only one man was participating.  Most of ladies seemed to be five to ten years older than me, one was maybe ten years younger, and one young thing kind of participated in the far lane but mostly did her own thing, running up and down the swim lanes. 

The pool has no deep end.  The bottom is all tile (unlike the YMCA's around here which have concrete bottoms) so it wasn't too hard on my feet, though I will need to get swim shoes. 

From the beginning exercise, walking with my knees and toes pointed out, pumping my arms, I found I was having trouble keeping up.  The knees don't like bending outward.  The jogging left me breathless.  By the time we were doing overland ski slides, I was exhausted -- and those old ladies just kept on moving. 

Our instructor was big enough to be a combination of Hubby AND me -- and she never let up.  The class was ONLY 45 minutes -- and I didn't make it.  I lasted 40 minutes before the knees, screaming said, "Quit or die!" So I shame-facedly climbed out of that pool and took my shower and went home. 

But I sure intend on going back.  This is exactly what I need.  No, it's not a diet plan.  It's an exercise regime in warm gentle waters which will help me build strength and stamina.  Next up -- I'm going to try chair yoga.  But Friday morning at 10:30 I'm going back for water aerobics.  My knees are demanding a rematch. 

The only thing that would make all this better is if I had someone going with me.  It's easier to motivate yourself into leaving home in a bathing suit (oh! the indignity!) if you know you have someone waiting for you. 

Testing Complete -- for now

We finished our latest round of testing with the pulmonologist around 10:30 this morning.  He was a sweet, young lad in a very adult suit and thoroughly knowledgeable and willing to communication at length.  The office, in the same complex as Hubby's cardiologist, was small so I sat in the waiting room while the testing took place but was invited in for the consultation with the doctor. 

Upshot:  Hubby does not have constrictive lung disease, even a mild case.  Hubby was greatly relieved hearing we were not adding in a new problem.  Hubby does have a red throat and so they believe he has on-going allergies, even if he does not admit to them (he never has, he never will) that can be handled with the nasal spray and over the counter meds which he is to take daily for here-on (Claritin and Flonase). 

Hubby does have sleep apenia and is going to be fitted for a CPAP machine that will include a humidifier to see if he can tolerate it.  I think all the physicians have worn Hubby down about this problem -- and assure him that he will both breathe better with it, as well as sleep better.  He now seems (thankfully for a stubborn old coot) open to the procedure, though whether he will actually wear one once he sees how big they are, is anybody's guess.  

All the tests show that the frozen larynx and the sleep apnea combined with the A-Fib and CHF have caused all Hubby's throat problems. 

The web has some good articles on the frozen larynx problem for pets -- it seems to appear most often in animals.  The technical name is laryngeal paralysis and, quoting from a pretty decent article on the subject:  in its closed position, the larynx prevents food and water from entering the windpipe, or trachea. When speaking and breathing, the larynx opens to allow airflow in and out of the lungs. When frozen the larynx causes problems when swallowing food (Hubby pretty much sticks to a soft diet now), changes in the sound of the voice, and difficulty in breathing -- all the symptoms that Hubby has experienced.  The solution is working with a speech therapist which he was doing in the late summer, but stopped when he couldn't function as the congestive heart failure worsened.  We must must start back with his therapy. 

On Monday Hubby wore a heart Holter monitor to keep track of his heart's electrical activity for 24 hours.  This was the simplest and easiest of the tests we have undergone except that you had to be fitted for it in the hospital at the cardiac unit which is in the middle of very long corridors in the bowels of our local hospital.  We turned the monitor back in at 8 a.m. this morning. 

Throughout all these procedures I'm learning more and more about what is causing Hubby's problems, especially with the throat congestion that has annoyed him so cruelly.  The larynx is the initial cause of the phlegm while the erratic and poor heart beat have exacerbated the problem.  Then add in the post nasal drip from the allergies and the poor sleeping from the apnea and you get a pool of misery in Hubby's throat that his frozen larynx cannot handle.  It just builds up and Hubby feels like he is drowning in it.  We finally, after five years of requesting help for this problem, actually been given a cause -- and to know that if Hubby is unwilling to wear the CPAP or take the allergy meds properly he will have this for the rest of his life.  Hopefully, the speech therapy, once we resume it, will also help Hubby learn to exercise his larynx and regain some of its function.  There is no magic pill and some problems we just have to accept and do the best we can to alleviate. 

The cardiac nurse team will now review all Hubby's tests and will also consult on the meds to make sure they are adequate and efficient.  Hubby will be fitted for a CPAP to see if he will use it -- as well as make sure the one he is given is helpful to him. 

Next week we meet with our GP and Hubby completed his physical therapy training. We both joined the gym at the hospital so we can continue to exercise and gain strength.  In early December, we meet with a second cardiologist to discuss some alternative therapies for the A-Fib.  Then we consult with the cardiology nurse practitioner about how the meds are working.  At the start of the new year we meet again with pulmiologist to see who the CPAP is going and with Hubby's own cardiologist. 

Currently, Hubby is struggling with being very cold -- undoubtedly because his blood thinning level, which should normally be at 2 to 3 has risen to level 4 (normal is 1 to 2 -- but his blood is thinned to made sure the heart has an easier time pumping) -- but we are still not in a dangerous zone (6 to 8). 

All Hubby's heart meds are now at their highest dosage point -- but he is no longer filled with fluid, his heart beat is within normal range, and his blood pressure is really good.  Stand up and cheer! 

Sister's Birthday

We celebrated on September 28 -- her actual birthday -- while we were visiting the Chesapeake Bay area.  Hubby and I planned as our gift to Wendy a high tea / luncheon at 3:30 in the afternoon.

We just downloaded the pictures from our camera -- because Hubby has simply been too worn out and sick from the Congestive Heart Failure to figure out the download process (he know how to download but I could never find the pictures once they had been put on the computer).  This afternoon, after we had a really nice morning of dog walking and health spa joining and some minimal Thanksgiving prep (ham baking and freezer clean-out), he was able to access the pictures and put them on my desktop.  So, here is one of the more fun things we did when we traveled to Virginia and Maryland this autumn.

Hubby and his little sister -- we are ready to set out for high tea

The tea was held at Reynold's Tavern in downtown Annapolis -- almost directly across from the naval school.  The tavern was built in 1747 -- 30 years before the Revolutionary War.  In 1935 the plan was to turn the space into a filling station, but instead the citizens of Annapolis decided to save the building and use it as a library.  In 1984, when the library needed bigger space, the tavern was leased to Historic Inns of Annapolis, a private company, who restored it to its original purpose.  The first floor tea rooms are very much like the original rooms of the tavern and upstairs are two suites and a bedroom for rent.  There is a cellar pub in the original kitchen and during the warm(er) weather, a courtyard for al fresco dining. 

Reynolds Tavern, Annapolis, Maryland

Tea Room on 1st floor

Each tea plate and cup was different

Tea has been served -- flowering tea for Wendy and a Hawaiian blend for me -- in the green pot. 

Quiche is the first course

Wendy, Hubby and Me -- we were having an "experience" and a really good time. 

Hubby did not partake of the tea goodies, but instead had a lovely chicken salad sandwich

Wendy after the tea back at the beach house

Big Brother and Little Sister -- we had had a lovely afternoon and now it was back to the beach house for a round of Heaerts. 

Hubby and me

We highly recommend the tea at Reynolds Tavern if you ever are in the area.  It was a lovely experience, cost less than I had imagined (not cheap but not budget busting either) and even Hubby had a nice time.  Plus, the location is right on the bay.  What more could you want? 

Wendy and me -- the beach house is on the right and yes! behind us is the view from the house -- the white pickets on the far right  frame the back porch where we sat every afternoon / evening.  Isn't this one of the loveliest spots on earth?

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.