It's coming up on four months since I had a stroke. At the time, the main 'stroke specialist' who saw me in the hospital was quite optimistic that my vision would recover, and that within three months, I would be back to normal. . .
Alas, that has not been the case. My vision is essentially unchanged since then. In the first weeks, I thought I was noticing some improvements, and I may have, but in the sober light of nearly four months experience, the recovery turns out to be pretty minimal, so far. I tell folks that there are three aspects to my 'recovery' experience: (1) actual healing/recovery, which, in retrospect, seems pretty minimal, (2) adapting to the new 'boundary conditions' on my life and health, which is certainly happening, and (3) wishful thinking, which has probably also been happening. It is, unfortunately, hard to tell the difference between the three, from inside the confines of my own experience.
So, unless something major happens in the next few months, I am probably done with my working career, and will be looking at retirement options. Which, you know, ain't so bad as all that. I turn 62 in less than two months, so I'm not cutting that many years off the various and sundry 'time lines'. Besides which, I will almost certainly qualify for Social Security Disability, which, along with the long-term disability benefit from my company, will carry me nicely to age 65, when things will 'normalize' again. Plus, I can start taking my pension from my first job at age 62, at the full payment (which ain't all that big, but it ain't nothing, either). So, financially, the stroke might even turn out to be a happy thing. Financially.
The thing is, other than my vision, I feel fine, physically speaking. As in the initial days, I don't have any physical 'deficits' other than my vision. All of my limbs are working normally, my speech and memory are fine, and my smile is the same one I've had my whole life. I had my vision evaluated, and they told me it was good enough to drive, if I felt confident enough. And that has been the case - I can see well enough in the 'global' sense to drive, and do most of the things I would normally do. The problem is with the kind of detail that's involved in reading and writing. I can read, but it's more of a grind than it used to be, and I find myself going over the same passages multiple times to be sure I'm getting them right. It's actually easier to type stuff on the computer than write them by hand (for whatever reason, writing a check is a particular adventure; maybe that'll save me some money in the long run. . .)
Honestly, my overall health has probably improved since the stroke. My blood pressure is lower, and I'm sleeping better. I'm coming to the realization that, for the last few years, I've been pushing myself really hard, in all sorts of ways, and it was taking a toll on my body that I was slow to realize. If I felt tired or lethargic on a bike ride, you know, the answer was just to keep riding, even ride harder, to burnish my conditioning. Which works better when you're younger than 62, I guess. In fact, knowing what I know now about my symptoms, and thinking back, it's likely that I had at least one previous mini-stroke, the effects of which were small enough to basically ignore. . .
And you know, in the back of my mind, the thought of going back to work was provoking in me feelings of dread. If I were really determined to go back to work, I might even be able to, but I couldn't be anywhere near as productive, and it would only provoke more anxiety and stress. To say nothing of the 'background' stress of commuting over an hour at either end of the day, just to get there and back. I'm seeing that I just don't have the energy or stamina for that kind of pushing myself, anymore (and you know, I didn't have it even when I was doing it, the past couple years). And that simple acceptance is proving to be very liberating. I was talking with a guy after church, who had recently had a stroke of his own, and had briefly gone back to work, before his boss finally told him it was time for him to be done, before he hurt himself worse than he already was. "It's just not worth trying to be a hero," he told me, and just admitting that thought into my mind lowered my blood pressure several points, all by itself.
So, the adventure continues. Jenn and I have been saying for a while that we'd love to retire and have more time/energy available for the marriage ministry we've been involved with, and it seems that we'll be able to do that even sooner than we'd hoped. Jenn is still working, but me being at home has us looking more seriously at how/when she can join me. 8M graduates high school in two more years, and that will probably be a bright line in the sand (if that isn't mixing my metaphors too terribly). But at this point, we will simply see what we will see (heh; you see what I did there?)
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Getting Answers
Okay, things are getting clearer as to what, exactly, happened to me on my bike ride this past Sunday. As you recall, I was feeling great, and riding well, for the first 15 miles of my ride. Then I stopped for a short break, and a bottle of sugar-free Gatorade, and all hell broke loose with my body.
I have suspected that the Gatorade was the culprit, since the symptoms appeared immediately after I drank it. And, in discussing my situation with our nurse friend, while we were trying to decide whether or not to go to the ER, she mentioned that an electrolyte imbalance can cause arhythmia, which also seemed to point to the Gatorade. But the blood work I had done showed nothing unusual regarding my electrolytes, so that seemed like a dead end.
Then, after I got back home, I was telling another friend about what had happened, and he perked up his ears when I mentioned the Gatorade. He asked me specifically whether it was regular Gatorade, or sugar-free, and I told him it was sugar-free, since, with my diet, I'm off sugar. (Just to get the full irony of the situation, I would normally have a bottle of unsweetened iced tea, but it was late in the afternoon, and I didn't want the caffeine.) Then he pointed me to this web site, which describes the link between aspartame and something called Sudden Cardiac Death. The article cites numerous cases of otherwise very-healthy individuals dying suddenly while engaged in strenuous athletic activity, during which they consume aspartame. And the description fits virtually exactly what happened to me. To quote the article: "the shock from strenuous athletics in combination with aspartame consumption. . . leads to activation of shock mechanisms. . . the cardiac conduction system that generates the impulses regulating the heart suddenly sends rapid [and/or] chaotic impulses." Which is pretty much exactly what I experienced. Aspartame poisoning; who knew? The fact that the article references something called 'Sudden Cardiac Death' is sobering in the extreme (I experienced a milder form called 'Sudden Cardiac Feeling Like Shit')
Of course, the FDA has approved aspartame, but one could reasonably wonder why. You all are adults, and I trust you are competent to make your own decisions as to what foods you purchase and consume. But aspartame (and virtually all 'sugar-free' foods/drinks contain aspartame) damn near did me in; and thousands of folks every year are less fortunate than I was. If this is news to you, I'd encourage you to give serious consideration to deleting aspartame from your diet. Or at least, don't engage in strenuous athletic activity while you consume it. That shit is deadly. . .
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Alas, the news concerning my dad is not so happy. The stroke he had was a massive one, involving two-thirds of one side of his brain, and we are now basically waiting for him to die. It may be soon, or it may be not-so-soon, but Dad as we've known him is gone. I will miss him terribly. I've said elsewhere that Dad is one of the very best things that ever happened to me, and I will always be grateful that, of all the families I might have been adopted into, I was adopted into his. . .
I have suspected that the Gatorade was the culprit, since the symptoms appeared immediately after I drank it. And, in discussing my situation with our nurse friend, while we were trying to decide whether or not to go to the ER, she mentioned that an electrolyte imbalance can cause arhythmia, which also seemed to point to the Gatorade. But the blood work I had done showed nothing unusual regarding my electrolytes, so that seemed like a dead end.
Then, after I got back home, I was telling another friend about what had happened, and he perked up his ears when I mentioned the Gatorade. He asked me specifically whether it was regular Gatorade, or sugar-free, and I told him it was sugar-free, since, with my diet, I'm off sugar. (Just to get the full irony of the situation, I would normally have a bottle of unsweetened iced tea, but it was late in the afternoon, and I didn't want the caffeine.) Then he pointed me to this web site, which describes the link between aspartame and something called Sudden Cardiac Death. The article cites numerous cases of otherwise very-healthy individuals dying suddenly while engaged in strenuous athletic activity, during which they consume aspartame. And the description fits virtually exactly what happened to me. To quote the article: "the shock from strenuous athletics in combination with aspartame consumption. . . leads to activation of shock mechanisms. . . the cardiac conduction system that generates the impulses regulating the heart suddenly sends rapid [and/or] chaotic impulses." Which is pretty much exactly what I experienced. Aspartame poisoning; who knew? The fact that the article references something called 'Sudden Cardiac Death' is sobering in the extreme (I experienced a milder form called 'Sudden Cardiac Feeling Like Shit')
Of course, the FDA has approved aspartame, but one could reasonably wonder why. You all are adults, and I trust you are competent to make your own decisions as to what foods you purchase and consume. But aspartame (and virtually all 'sugar-free' foods/drinks contain aspartame) damn near did me in; and thousands of folks every year are less fortunate than I was. If this is news to you, I'd encourage you to give serious consideration to deleting aspartame from your diet. Or at least, don't engage in strenuous athletic activity while you consume it. That shit is deadly. . .
-------------------------
Alas, the news concerning my dad is not so happy. The stroke he had was a massive one, involving two-thirds of one side of his brain, and we are now basically waiting for him to die. It may be soon, or it may be not-so-soon, but Dad as we've known him is gone. I will miss him terribly. I've said elsewhere that Dad is one of the very best things that ever happened to me, and I will always be grateful that, of all the families I might have been adopted into, I was adopted into his. . .
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Not Just Yet. . .
I know that I had another post up here, and at least one of you left a comment on it. I promise I will re-post it later, but recent events have come to pass that I thought you all might be more interested in, than a five-year-old re-post about my youthful parenting skills (or lack thereof). . .
-------------------------
I usually ride my bike on Saturdays. But this past Saturday was rainy, and besides, we had a family reunion to go to, so I put my ride off until Sunday. Which worked out just fine, actually, since Jen had to go to a baby shower for one of our neices, and a ride would keep me suitably out of trouble in her absence. Sunday was a delightfully sunny day, and I planned a 42-mile ride on one of my favorite routes.
As I began my ride, around 4PM, I felt absolutely great. Sometimes, at the start of a ride, I feel a little sluggish, and it might take 4 or 5 miles to get into my groove; but on Sunday, I just felt great, right from the start of my ride.
After 10 miles or so, I noticed that my mouth was feeling a bit dry, and I was going through my water a little quicker than normal. It occurred to me that I hadn't had much to eat since just after church, and that I'd forgotten to have glass of water before I left, like I usually do. No problem, though - there's a little party store at about the 15-mile mark, and I just figured that I could grab a bottle of Gatorade, and maybe a bag of trail mix, to tide me over through the rest of the ride, and easily stretch my water supply through the end of the ride. So I stopped at the party store, and bought a bottle of Gatorade, and drank it down over a 10-minute break.
When I got back on the bike, though, I instantly felt like utter crap. It was the damnedest thing. Minutes before, I'd felt absolutely great, and then after taking a 10-minute break and a pint of fluids (and replenishing my electrolytes in the process), I felt utterly terrible. I had no energy anymore, and I was laboring twice as hard as normal to go half as fast.
At first, I thought that I'd guzzled the Gatorade too quickly, and was feeling the effects of an overfull stomach. But if that were the case, the bloated, lethargic feeling would go away in a few miles, and this wasn't going away. I was starting to get concerned.
There is a gas-station/party-store at about the 25-mile mark, and I stopped there for another break, and the trail mix that I didn't get at the previous stop. While I rested, I thought maybe I should check my pulse, so I put my two right fingers against my left wrist. I didn't have a stopwatch, but I was instantly alarmed that, even resting, my pulse was extremely rapid and irregular. A quick self-inventory revealed no pain or tightness in my chest, but something was obviously not right.
I was still 17 miles from home, though, and Jen was out town at the baby shower, so she wasn't available to come get me, so I thought I could just cut the power, and limp home at a reduced speed. As I recommenced my ride, my cell phone rang. Jen was stuck in traffic an hour from home, and wanted me to give her an alternate route home. So I stopped for five minutes, and worked out an alternate plan for her, and then I continued riding. Ten minutes later, she called again, having gotten confused with some of the directions I'd given her, so I had to help her undo her mistake, and get her re-oriented in the right direction. And when we hung up, I got back on the bike and rode some more.
And I still felt like crap. In fact, I had started the ride going around the loop in the opposite direction from what I usually do, because the hills are more challenging that way, and I was feeling good. But now that I felt lousy, it was a really unfortunate choice. Every time I climbed a hill, I had to slow to a virtual snail's pace just to get up it at all, and then it took three times as long just to recover back to the level of 'feeling like shit'.
And Jen continued to call every ten minutes or so - seven times in all - asking for directional assistance (we often joke between us that I'm her own personal GPS). And I was getting increasingly frustrated - that Jen was interrupting my ride every ten minutes, yes, but even moreso because of my own all-too-obvious health problems. And the fact that, between my own reduced physical capacity, and all the time I spent on the side of the road talking to my wife, I was starting to move into the realms of 'will I get home before sunset?'
I continued taking periodic stock of my physical status. On the flat-and-level parts, I wasn't doing too badly, if I didn't push myself too hard. And I wasn't having any chest pain, or anything like that. But, somewhere around the 31-mile mark, in moment of lucidity, I thought to myself that a heart attack isn't required to send up a warning flare, and there were plenty of stories of guys who had heart attacks with virtually no warning whatsoever. So I stopped, and called 1F to come and pick me up. She didn't answer. I called 4M, and he didn't answer, either. 3M was at work. So I called my friend Richard (who just made an appearance in my last post), and he said he would come out and pick me up.
I continued limping along in the mode I had been, until, at the 35-mile mark of my ride, Richard pulled up, and I gratefully got off my bike and threw it into the back of his van. As we rode home, I told him what was happening. By the time we got home, Jen had just arrived, and I filled her in on the situation. I had Richard check my pulse, and he gave me a concerned look - it wasn't rapid, now that I'd had a chance to rest, but it was still wildly irregular. We all went into the house, and tried to sort through a reasonable plan of action. With rest, I no longer felt so bad, so I was wondering if a trip to the hospital was warranted or not (and besides, on Sunday night, none of the 'urgent-care' places are open, and ER visits are not treated happily by my health-care insurance; so if I could avoid a trip to the ER, I viewed that as a good thing). Jen called our family doc, and he thought it would be good just to get an EKG, so why don't we just go on in. Then Jen called a friend of hers who is a nurse, and the nurse-friend urged us even more strongly to go to the ER; and besides, she said, if we told the triage-nurse at the ER that 'my doctor wants me to have an EKG', that was pretty much a ticket to the front of the line. So I said, OK, let's go.
And I just got home this afternoon, to tell you all about it. Without going into stultifying detail, we still don't completely know what happened to me out on the bike Sunday afternoon. As of now, we're just calling it a 'Cardiac Event'. Of the various indicators of a heart-attack, all of them were negative, except one, which was, in the ER cardiologist's words, "slightly elevated, not at all what we'd see if you'd had a heart attack." And I generated several odd-looking EKGs, "but that might just be you, and the way your heart works."
I had an Echocardiogram done, and that showed my heart working pretty doggone well, for what it's worth, Then I had a Heart Catheterization (which is just more fun than a human being ought to be allowed to have), which showed one of my coronary arteries less-than-40% blocked; they don't even think about putting in a stent until the blockage is more than 70%. So the diagnostics, while not quite sunshine and light, just don't seem to correspond to what I was feeling on the bike.
But now, at any rate, I have a cardiologist, with whom I will be becoming friends over the next few weeks. So at least I'll be in touch with people who know how to figure out what's happening.
If any of you are moved to pray for me/us, I would be grateful. . .
-------------------------
And just because the Universe is a bastard. . .
While we were sitting in the hospital room, waiting for the final discharge papers, my sister-in-law called, informing us that my dad had had a stroke. They'd just found him in his room just this morning, an hour before her call, conscious, but unable to talk or move his right side. As I write this, that's all I know.
And he can certainly use your prayers even more than I can. . .
-------------------------
I usually ride my bike on Saturdays. But this past Saturday was rainy, and besides, we had a family reunion to go to, so I put my ride off until Sunday. Which worked out just fine, actually, since Jen had to go to a baby shower for one of our neices, and a ride would keep me suitably out of trouble in her absence. Sunday was a delightfully sunny day, and I planned a 42-mile ride on one of my favorite routes.
As I began my ride, around 4PM, I felt absolutely great. Sometimes, at the start of a ride, I feel a little sluggish, and it might take 4 or 5 miles to get into my groove; but on Sunday, I just felt great, right from the start of my ride.
After 10 miles or so, I noticed that my mouth was feeling a bit dry, and I was going through my water a little quicker than normal. It occurred to me that I hadn't had much to eat since just after church, and that I'd forgotten to have glass of water before I left, like I usually do. No problem, though - there's a little party store at about the 15-mile mark, and I just figured that I could grab a bottle of Gatorade, and maybe a bag of trail mix, to tide me over through the rest of the ride, and easily stretch my water supply through the end of the ride. So I stopped at the party store, and bought a bottle of Gatorade, and drank it down over a 10-minute break.
When I got back on the bike, though, I instantly felt like utter crap. It was the damnedest thing. Minutes before, I'd felt absolutely great, and then after taking a 10-minute break and a pint of fluids (and replenishing my electrolytes in the process), I felt utterly terrible. I had no energy anymore, and I was laboring twice as hard as normal to go half as fast.
At first, I thought that I'd guzzled the Gatorade too quickly, and was feeling the effects of an overfull stomach. But if that were the case, the bloated, lethargic feeling would go away in a few miles, and this wasn't going away. I was starting to get concerned.
There is a gas-station/party-store at about the 25-mile mark, and I stopped there for another break, and the trail mix that I didn't get at the previous stop. While I rested, I thought maybe I should check my pulse, so I put my two right fingers against my left wrist. I didn't have a stopwatch, but I was instantly alarmed that, even resting, my pulse was extremely rapid and irregular. A quick self-inventory revealed no pain or tightness in my chest, but something was obviously not right.
I was still 17 miles from home, though, and Jen was out town at the baby shower, so she wasn't available to come get me, so I thought I could just cut the power, and limp home at a reduced speed. As I recommenced my ride, my cell phone rang. Jen was stuck in traffic an hour from home, and wanted me to give her an alternate route home. So I stopped for five minutes, and worked out an alternate plan for her, and then I continued riding. Ten minutes later, she called again, having gotten confused with some of the directions I'd given her, so I had to help her undo her mistake, and get her re-oriented in the right direction. And when we hung up, I got back on the bike and rode some more.
And I still felt like crap. In fact, I had started the ride going around the loop in the opposite direction from what I usually do, because the hills are more challenging that way, and I was feeling good. But now that I felt lousy, it was a really unfortunate choice. Every time I climbed a hill, I had to slow to a virtual snail's pace just to get up it at all, and then it took three times as long just to recover back to the level of 'feeling like shit'.
And Jen continued to call every ten minutes or so - seven times in all - asking for directional assistance (we often joke between us that I'm her own personal GPS). And I was getting increasingly frustrated - that Jen was interrupting my ride every ten minutes, yes, but even moreso because of my own all-too-obvious health problems. And the fact that, between my own reduced physical capacity, and all the time I spent on the side of the road talking to my wife, I was starting to move into the realms of 'will I get home before sunset?'
I continued taking periodic stock of my physical status. On the flat-and-level parts, I wasn't doing too badly, if I didn't push myself too hard. And I wasn't having any chest pain, or anything like that. But, somewhere around the 31-mile mark, in moment of lucidity, I thought to myself that a heart attack isn't required to send up a warning flare, and there were plenty of stories of guys who had heart attacks with virtually no warning whatsoever. So I stopped, and called 1F to come and pick me up. She didn't answer. I called 4M, and he didn't answer, either. 3M was at work. So I called my friend Richard (who just made an appearance in my last post), and he said he would come out and pick me up.
I continued limping along in the mode I had been, until, at the 35-mile mark of my ride, Richard pulled up, and I gratefully got off my bike and threw it into the back of his van. As we rode home, I told him what was happening. By the time we got home, Jen had just arrived, and I filled her in on the situation. I had Richard check my pulse, and he gave me a concerned look - it wasn't rapid, now that I'd had a chance to rest, but it was still wildly irregular. We all went into the house, and tried to sort through a reasonable plan of action. With rest, I no longer felt so bad, so I was wondering if a trip to the hospital was warranted or not (and besides, on Sunday night, none of the 'urgent-care' places are open, and ER visits are not treated happily by my health-care insurance; so if I could avoid a trip to the ER, I viewed that as a good thing). Jen called our family doc, and he thought it would be good just to get an EKG, so why don't we just go on in. Then Jen called a friend of hers who is a nurse, and the nurse-friend urged us even more strongly to go to the ER; and besides, she said, if we told the triage-nurse at the ER that 'my doctor wants me to have an EKG', that was pretty much a ticket to the front of the line. So I said, OK, let's go.
And I just got home this afternoon, to tell you all about it. Without going into stultifying detail, we still don't completely know what happened to me out on the bike Sunday afternoon. As of now, we're just calling it a 'Cardiac Event'. Of the various indicators of a heart-attack, all of them were negative, except one, which was, in the ER cardiologist's words, "slightly elevated, not at all what we'd see if you'd had a heart attack." And I generated several odd-looking EKGs, "but that might just be you, and the way your heart works."
I had an Echocardiogram done, and that showed my heart working pretty doggone well, for what it's worth, Then I had a Heart Catheterization (which is just more fun than a human being ought to be allowed to have), which showed one of my coronary arteries less-than-40% blocked; they don't even think about putting in a stent until the blockage is more than 70%. So the diagnostics, while not quite sunshine and light, just don't seem to correspond to what I was feeling on the bike.
But now, at any rate, I have a cardiologist, with whom I will be becoming friends over the next few weeks. So at least I'll be in touch with people who know how to figure out what's happening.
If any of you are moved to pray for me/us, I would be grateful. . .
-------------------------
And just because the Universe is a bastard. . .
While we were sitting in the hospital room, waiting for the final discharge papers, my sister-in-law called, informing us that my dad had had a stroke. They'd just found him in his room just this morning, an hour before her call, conscious, but unable to talk or move his right side. As I write this, that's all I know.
And he can certainly use your prayers even more than I can. . .
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