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. 

Finding Ways to Keep My Own Blood Pressure Soaring

Hubby had a rough night.  He came home around 9 p.m. from his "fiddling" around -- talking with family members long distance, riding his stationary bike, etc. and sounded pretty much like he was getting a cold.  Quickly, he was fast asleep. 

I had had a rough day myself-- my stomach had been upset and I felt "off" so instead of being the productive wife, I had fed Hubby some toast and called it quits for the day.  I laid around reading my Kindle, napping, and watching TV (that show about Alfred Hitchcock and Teppi Hedren -- The Girl -- was truly sickening). 

At 1:30 this morning Hubby woke me up.  "I need my new Vicks inhaler," he commanded.  We had bought this plastic machine in Williamsburg that uses hot water and a little cube of very potent Vicks and you hold it up to your mouth and nose and inhale the pungent fumes.  Hubby swears it works great.  It practically bowls me over, but whatever floats your boat. 

I got up, prepared the inhaler and then listened to Hubby sit up all night, hacking, spitting, and gasping for air.  At 8 he took the dogs out for walkies.  I rolled over preparing for at least a quiet hour of sleep, when the phone rang.  "I'm going to the emergency clinic.  Do you want to come along?"

I've learned the hard way not to send Hubby off for emergency procedures alone.  If he's really sick, he won't go to the hospital.  And he never goes for emergency care unless he's really sick.  So I quickly dressed and walked out to the car waiting for me in the driveway.

The Goppert Family Care Clinic has an emergency clinic attached so on signing Hubby in, I said we needed to go the emergency waiting room.  The new receptionist looked up Hubby's record and asked me what was wrong. 

"His blood pressure is elevated, his heart rate is high, his diabetes count is over 200, and he's full of congestion."

She immediately called in the seasoned receptionist who looked at Hubby, looked at Hubby's record and went to get the Triage nursing staff.  Emergency clinics are NOT for chronic illness.  Two lovely nurses came out and escorted Hubby to a patient's room and they called in a Faculty Doctor -- our own Dr. Patel was on call at the hospital and not available to us.  

We had wonderful service.  Nurses gathered, EKGs were taken, questions were asked and answered.  For an hour and a half the lives of four clinic personnel were interrupted while Hubby was assessed, diagnosed, and treated. 

Finally a verdict was reached.  We were definitely not in congestive heart failure -- always my worst fear.  Hubby probably had a cold but based on the problems we had just had during our sojourn to Chesapeake, we were to watch it carefully.  His EKG did show some changes from the previous one but not significant enough to warrant a hospitalization -- just a visit with the cardiologist which we had already scheduled for November 4th.  Finally,  if Hubby felt lousy enough then the emergency room should be the next stop.

"Nope," Hubby proclaimed.  "No emergency room."

Heart meds were increased to help with the high heart rate (which came down radically as Hubby received more and more soothing and pampering).  Scripts were sent off to the pharmacy.  Over the counter drugs that do not interact with heart conditions were recommended. Scopes and consultations followed tests and chest thumping. 

Eventually we were released from the doctor's office.  Just as Dr. Patel had held my hand and looked seriously in my eyes last week, they held both our hands and looked at us solemnly and with intent,  "Call us if you have any changes or worries.  Go to the emergency room if you feel any chest pains."

We were effusively thankful.  We had showed up with no appointment or advance warning and because we were concerned the entire clinic had jumped to and work us over -- probably only for a cold.  We had seen the most senior doctor and he had been warm and sympathetic.  Everyone had worried about us and shown their concern, never minimizing our problems -- which have probably turned out to be nothing more than a cold.

Now was my turn to take over.  After walking two dogs to wear off some energy (and eliminate some poop and pee) and taking Hubby home to bed to be surrounded by now worn out pups, I headed out to collect several new scrips and over the counter meds as well as lunch.


We left the house at 8:25 this morning.   I got home at 1:25 in the afternoon.  Everyone is now fed and dosed and sleeping off the effects of our activities.  Let's pray the meds all work and the "cold" stays just a minor blip in our lives. 

We're Off to See the Wizard

Okay -- not to see the wizard but to visit the new doctor and get even newer doctors. If everything goes well, Hubby will be settling into a new regime of meds but with a much healthier outlook for the future.

He's sleeping regular hours again. That's a big plus from the the past four weeks. His breathing when he's sleeping is much improved. He sounds almost normal. His daily schedule is already beginning to approach pre-illness activity levels.

All is good around here -- now if only the doctor will confirm our "unofficial" progress! If the heartbeat is in "acceptable" range, if the blood coagulation is approaching the proper levels of anti-coagulation, if the wheezing in the lower back has abated -- then I can finally go back to work, leaving Hubby to handle his own medical complications and the newly assigned doctors. I'll keep you posted.