By now, most of you know of my misadventures at the gym two weeks ago. Run three miles no problem. Stop running, and the grim reaper is standing beside me. While that really is dramatic, it was a totally frightening experience that no one could explain. $30,000 of medical testing later, they send me home with no answers. Six days later, I walk into a concert hall and it's like a recurring nightmare. Asthma trigger leads to coughing leads to...blackness and dizziness that just won't stop. The medic looks at my oxygen saturation and says, "You should be unconscious." I can't respond because that would take oxygen and then I would be unconscious!
My condition makes said medic unhappy, so he calls in the rescue squad. Oh joy. My second ride in an ambulance in less than a week. These guys are late on the scene. I'm still dizzy, but improving. Oxygen saturation is actually almost 90! Woohoo! So they take me to the ER. The doc there decides I'm having a panic attack and thrusts a sedative at me. Uh, no thank you. Seeing as he cannot explain why my oxygen saturation would be 78 with a panic attack (and I know that those two don't go together!), I decline the sedative and tell him he's wrong. I don't think he appreciated that. :)
So, off to the pulmonologist I go. He says, "You need industrial strength asthma medication." :) Yes, thank you! In five minutes, this guy looks at us and says, "It's your ASD."
An ASD is a (birth defect) hole between the atria of the heart. (Mine was diagnosed last year.) Normally, the blood flows through the hole in a direction that is of no concern. However, the coughing from the asthma causes an increase in pressure that then reverses the flow through the hole such that the blood never actually makes it to the lungs to pick up oxygen. So, I black out and get chest pain. The brain and the heart don't like to be without oxygen. As the coughing eases, the pressure goes down and the flow returns to normal and the dizziness and chest pain ease.
So, now I get to see a cardiothoracic surgeon to get the hole in my heart repaired. We meet him this Wednesday...Am I nervous? A little. Am I afraid of the surgery? Not really. Do I understand His plan? Um. No. But I do trust that the Lord has me firmly in His hand. I just pray that the children will be able to see His grace throughout this whole process.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Valuable Lessons Learned
I learned a few valuable lessons this week. First, if you aren't necessarily feeling in top condition, it may not be the best time to do a tempo or interval run. There are natural consequences that can occur...like almost passing out at the gym, setting off what is believed to be a cardiac event that encourages the gym management to invite the local rescue squad to the party. Well, not to be outdone, the local hospital then extends an invitation to stay...one of those invitations that you are obligated to accept...but the hospital, all in your best interest, of course, is more like the Hotel California...you can check in but you cannot check out...at least not until they administer every cardiac test known to man. And I do mean every cardiac test known to man.
Secondly, always, always make sure that you have 3 days of clothing in your gym bag, because once they send you to the hospital, you are going to need every one of those garments. And since they will be doing all kinds of stuff to you like putting you on treadmills and tables that tilt, you are going to want at least 2 days of those clothes to be gym clothes. Despite what their invitation states, the hospital is NOT a place for rest. It is, however, a place to exercise your fasting skills. Since you are scheduled for multiple tests each day, and each test requires you to fast, they don't actually feed you until 4:30 in the afternoon.
Thirdly, always give thanks and verbalize your appreciation to those who have served you tirelessly. My nurses scheduled 8 tests, chatted with multiple doctors, ordered meds, and in general, kept track of me wherever I was which was no mean feat since I literally traversed the hallways multiple times a day on the way to the next test! Awana, Kristen, and Jo...I am indebted to you for your constant concern for me and for your patience with me. You listened even when the cardiologist didn't. ("You have asthma? Really?" "Um...did ya read the chart?")
And thank you my friends, Erlene and Anita, for taking the children on short notice with no clue as to how long you would have them. Andrew and Chris...well done! You are amazing young men.
Lastly, but far from least, thank you, Billy, for staying with me. You made sure that all of my needs were met, even if it was a pillow for my back, or a shoulder for my tears. You listened and were patient when you didn't have to be. You even hooked me into the internet! Thank you.
Secondly, always, always make sure that you have 3 days of clothing in your gym bag, because once they send you to the hospital, you are going to need every one of those garments. And since they will be doing all kinds of stuff to you like putting you on treadmills and tables that tilt, you are going to want at least 2 days of those clothes to be gym clothes. Despite what their invitation states, the hospital is NOT a place for rest. It is, however, a place to exercise your fasting skills. Since you are scheduled for multiple tests each day, and each test requires you to fast, they don't actually feed you until 4:30 in the afternoon.
Thirdly, always give thanks and verbalize your appreciation to those who have served you tirelessly. My nurses scheduled 8 tests, chatted with multiple doctors, ordered meds, and in general, kept track of me wherever I was which was no mean feat since I literally traversed the hallways multiple times a day on the way to the next test! Awana, Kristen, and Jo...I am indebted to you for your constant concern for me and for your patience with me. You listened even when the cardiologist didn't. ("You have asthma? Really?" "Um...did ya read the chart?")
And thank you my friends, Erlene and Anita, for taking the children on short notice with no clue as to how long you would have them. Andrew and Chris...well done! You are amazing young men.
Lastly, but far from least, thank you, Billy, for staying with me. You made sure that all of my needs were met, even if it was a pillow for my back, or a shoulder for my tears. You listened and were patient when you didn't have to be. You even hooked me into the internet! Thank you.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Running...again
A year ago, I was running up to 8 miles, had increased my speed, and was training for the first inaugural Marine Corps Half Marathon in Fredericksburg. I was cooking and incredibly proud of my achievements. I am a mom of 8 children. I homeschool. I can do it all! Pride doth go before a fall...
It all started with a way too familiar pang in my shin. It moved to a regular throb. Then came the "it hurts to walk and let's not even contemplate stairs."" No, really, Son, you do want to carry me up the stairs. I mean, come on, you pick me up and move me when I'm in your way, why can't you move me when I am in MY way?" Back to physical therapy I go... Yep, I have done this before, so apparently I am a slow learner. :)
So I call my friends at physical therapy...their first words to me were, "So here is my repeat offender!" I spend two months with my therapist who then decides to hand me over to another therapist...someone who says, "Oh! The injury is in your leg, but your real problem is in your hip!" Hmmm...they did have to move around a few times with 8 pregnancies.
The long trek back to running health took months that included my not running at all...In the midst of all of this, my son's health deteriorated, I started driving a few thousand miles a month to doctor appointments, and I had no time or emotional energy left to run...which means.. Yep, that 9 minute mile is gone. Long gone.
I read somewhere that the first nine runs are the hardest. If you make it through those first nine runs, you will be a runner for life. Really. I lace up my shoes, put on my cute little running skirt (that used to fit much looser!), and strap on my handy dandy Garmin that will tell me how fast I am zipping along...Did I say zipping? Hmmm...The only thing zipping along is the air as it leaves my gasping lungs. Up the dreaded hill I crawl, making the mistake of looking at that handy dandy Garmin and it suggests that I am zipping along at startling 12 and a half minutes per mile. Maybe I should walk, it would be faster! I stumble forward, thinking, "It will get better. It will get better. It will get better."
Here we are three weeks later. I actually conquered 3.9 miles on Wednesday at a zippy little pace of 11 minutes per mile. Not fast by any measure, but better than three weeks ago...and I didn't feel the to inspect my sanity at the half mile mark. It has been nine runs...and I am actually running! Not fast...and it certainly isn't pretty...and that cute little running skirt isn't nearly as loose as it used to be, but it's looser than it was three weeks ago. Maybe they were on to something? Nine runs and...my core is stronger (thanks, Steve, the amazing physical therapist!), my leg isn't hurting, and...I'm running!
Ah, but have I learned my lesson? Will I stay injury free? Am I a really slow learner? Stay tuned....
It all started with a way too familiar pang in my shin. It moved to a regular throb. Then came the "it hurts to walk and let's not even contemplate stairs."" No, really, Son, you do want to carry me up the stairs. I mean, come on, you pick me up and move me when I'm in your way, why can't you move me when I am in MY way?" Back to physical therapy I go... Yep, I have done this before, so apparently I am a slow learner. :)
So I call my friends at physical therapy...their first words to me were, "So here is my repeat offender!"
The long trek back to running health took months that included my not running at all...In the midst of all of this, my son's health deteriorated, I started driving a few thousand miles a month to doctor appointments, and I had no time or emotional energy left to run...which means.. Yep, that 9 minute mile is gone. Long gone.
I read somewhere that the first nine runs are the hardest. If you make it through those first nine runs, you will be a runner for life. Really. I lace up my shoes, put on my cute little running skirt (that used to fit much looser!), and strap on my handy dandy Garmin that will tell me how fast I am zipping along...Did I say zipping? Hmmm...The only thing zipping along is the air as it leaves my gasping lungs. Up the dreaded hill I crawl, making the mistake of looking at that handy dandy Garmin and it suggests that I am zipping along at startling 12 and a half minutes per mile. Maybe I should walk, it would be faster! I stumble forward, thinking, "It will get better. It will get better. It will get better."
Here we are three weeks later. I actually conquered 3.9 miles on Wednesday at a zippy little pace of 11 minutes per mile. Not fast by any measure, but better than three weeks ago...and I didn't feel the to inspect my sanity at the half mile mark. It has been nine runs...and I am actually running! Not fast...and it certainly isn't pretty...and that cute little running skirt isn't nearly as loose as it used to be, but it's looser than it was three weeks ago. Maybe they were on to something? Nine runs and...my core is stronger (thanks, Steve, the amazing physical therapist!), my leg isn't hurting, and...I'm running!
Ah, but have I learned my lesson? Will I stay injury free? Am I a really slow learner? Stay tuned....
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Running with Jackson, the beagle
For those whom I totally confused with the previous post, Jackson is William's ten month old Beagle. Well, after last week's event between Jackson and Benjamin, my 8 yo son, we were in a quandry as to what to do. We had always stated that we would never keep a dog that had bitten someone. However, nothing is ever that easy when you are in the middle of it. Beagles are not generally aggressive. Headstrong, yes. Aggressive, no. So what really happened? With no witnesses, it's impossible to know.
So, we decided to have someone evaluate him to see if they could provoke a similar response. I called a friend, Amber, with lots of dog training experience to do just that. She saw nothing that gave her concern. I called another trainer (who helped train the previous trainer) who had several recommendations, one of which was to give him lots of exercise. Aha! I can do that! I wanted a canine running partner anyway!
Ha! Beagles and running. Well, they love to run, but they love to run after something...something with fur and a really good scent...and I don't mean Shalimar! If it's a dead scent, all the better! Definitely not my scent of choice. Since I don't generally smell dead (at least I try not to smell dead), I have hair and not fur, I am really not all that attractive to this beagle. So, a lovely little training collar is used to make my presence known and, more importantly, to make said beagle realize that he is not alpha and doesn't call the shots...or the pace!
So, Jackson works with said trainer, he runs a few miles with my 15 yo, Andrew, and now it is my turn. Amber works with me, showing me what to do to encourage good running partner behavior. Got it. I practice at home. I even run a few tenths of a mile. Cool! This is working!
So, today, KT and David came over and off we went for a nice slow three miles. Slow is the operative term. I have Jackson fully under my control with his training collar and leash. Kt gives in to Savannah's tail wagging and sad eyes, attaches a snoot loop and leash to her, and we are off. Off our rockers!
We get maybe a tenth of a mile down the road, and my shoulder already feels like it has been lifting weights for half an hour. I have to constantly pull on Jackson's leash to remind him that he is supposed to follow, not lead! The dead rabbit in the middle of the road is way more interesting than my attention-getting tactics. He finally settles into a rhythm. Then we hit the first hill. I slow down but Jackson is so not interested! He decides that the former pace is much more desireable. After stopping to make him sit, I get his attention again, and off we go.
Now for the fun....at the top of the hill, a bird has the audacity to wing itself across the road, right at Jackson's eye level. What is this stupid bird thinking? Doesn't it realize that this dog is a force with which to be reckoned? Apparently it decided to tempt fate...and we were off to the races.
How is it that a 40 lb dog can actually make a grown woman feel like she is in a cartoon as she is being literally dragged down the road, both hands holding onto the leash, and pulling with all her might! It was like being on the back of a sled and a team of huskies was pulling me across the frozen tundra! I wanted to yell, "MUSH!", but figured that if I did that, I might end up in North Carolina. While Caty is hysterically laughing at my comical adventure, I am looking at David, going, "Uh, could ya help me out here?" Fortunately, he did not find it nearly so comical and added his much stronger muscle mass to the effort of stopping this run away sled.
Needless to say, I have decided that my 6 foot son whose biceps are twice the size of mine will have the distinct privilege of running with said beagle while I enjoy his lab who adores placidly trotting along beside you... The beagle gets exercise, I get a lovely running partner, and all but Andrew are happy. :) Sorry son. Rank doth have its privileges!
So, we decided to have someone evaluate him to see if they could provoke a similar response. I called a friend, Amber, with lots of dog training experience to do just that. She saw nothing that gave her concern. I called another trainer (who helped train the previous trainer) who had several recommendations, one of which was to give him lots of exercise. Aha! I can do that! I wanted a canine running partner anyway!
Ha! Beagles and running. Well, they love to run, but they love to run after something...something with fur and a really good scent...and I don't mean Shalimar! If it's a dead scent, all the better! Definitely not my scent of choice. Since I don't generally smell dead (at least I try not to smell dead), I have hair and not fur, I am really not all that attractive to this beagle. So, a lovely little training collar is used to make my presence known and, more importantly, to make said beagle realize that he is not alpha and doesn't call the shots...or the pace!
So, Jackson works with said trainer, he runs a few miles with my 15 yo, Andrew, and now it is my turn. Amber works with me, showing me what to do to encourage good running partner behavior. Got it. I practice at home. I even run a few tenths of a mile. Cool! This is working!
So, today, KT and David came over and off we went for a nice slow three miles. Slow is the operative term. I have Jackson fully under my control with his training collar and leash. Kt gives in to Savannah's tail wagging and sad eyes, attaches a snoot loop and leash to her, and we are off. Off our rockers!
We get maybe a tenth of a mile down the road, and my shoulder already feels like it has been lifting weights for half an hour. I have to constantly pull on Jackson's leash to remind him that he is supposed to follow, not lead! The dead rabbit in the middle of the road is way more interesting than my attention-getting tactics. He finally settles into a rhythm. Then we hit the first hill. I slow down but Jackson is so not interested! He decides that the former pace is much more desireable. After stopping to make him sit, I get his attention again, and off we go.
Now for the fun....at the top of the hill, a bird has the audacity to wing itself across the road, right at Jackson's eye level. What is this stupid bird thinking? Doesn't it realize that this dog is a force with which to be reckoned? Apparently it decided to tempt fate...and we were off to the races.
How is it that a 40 lb dog can actually make a grown woman feel like she is in a cartoon as she is being literally dragged down the road, both hands holding onto the leash, and pulling with all her might! It was like being on the back of a sled and a team of huskies was pulling me across the frozen tundra! I wanted to yell, "MUSH!", but figured that if I did that, I might end up in North Carolina. While Caty is hysterically laughing at my comical adventure, I am looking at David, going, "Uh, could ya help me out here?" Fortunately, he did not find it nearly so comical and added his much stronger muscle mass to the effort of stopping this run away sled.
Needless to say, I have decided that my 6 foot son whose biceps are twice the size of mine will have the distinct privilege of running with said beagle while I enjoy his lab who adores placidly trotting along beside you... The beagle gets exercise, I get a lovely running partner, and all but Andrew are happy. :) Sorry son. Rank doth have its privileges!
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Ben and the dog
It was one of those moments.... It was Caroline's 7th birthday. I was cleaning house all morning, anticipating the arrival of friends and family for dinner. I finally was drying my hair when one of the kids says that Ben is crying. I asked them to send Ben to me when someone said, "Andrew needs you now." Andrew is my Joe Cool, unruffleable 15 year old. For him to need me now sends this shiver down my spine.
Sitting there
on the porch in my rocker is my 8 year old...bleeding profusely. Andrew, who is holding pressure, moves his hand and I see...a mess. (For those who don't like graphic descriptions, I will spare you!) I immediately bark orders as I go to get my shoes on. Someone find Ben's shoes and get them on, find my bag, get the ER bag (yes, we have an ER bag thanks to Caroline and Will!).
on the porch in my rocker is my 8 year old...bleeding profusely. Andrew, who is holding pressure, moves his hand and I see...a mess. (For those who don't like graphic descriptions, I will spare you!) I immediately bark orders as I go to get my shoes on. Someone find Ben's shoes and get them on, find my bag, get the ER bag (yes, we have an ER bag thanks to Caroline and Will!). What would we do without the Brooks's? There would be NO birthday, that is for sure. Randy had shopped for me on his way home from work the previous night, Erlene had wrapped the presents, and all I did was write a check. They totally saved the day. So, Erlene gets another call from me asking if she could possibly take Caroline to Costco to get a birthday cake while I hang out at the ER.
Six stitches and a few gray hairs later, we eat a birthday dinner that was saved by Chelsea who won't even eat most of what she helped prepare, ate birthday cake and ice cream purchased by Erlene, opened gifts purchased by Randy (Erlene's husband), and celebrate the good gift of children while being very thankful for the Lord's mercy toward our son and His provision of amazing friends!
Friday, February 20, 2009
Home at Last!
After a totally uneventful trip, we're home!
William is doing really well...walking with a limp, but walking nonetheless. Chelsea totally held down the fort in our absence. She and Chloe fed all the animals, watered all the animals, and hopefully enjoyed their time here. We will return the rental, pick up what we hope is a fixed van, and then pick up our other five children tomorrow morning...all before 11:30! :)
Results of the biopsy should be available in six to eight weeks. Dr Shoffner stated that sometimes it takes as long as 12 weeks...
As our life returns to our normal craziness, we remain grateful for our amazing friends who helped us through this trip, who helped provide some really cool experiences for William, who prayed for us, and who sat with us as we laugh and/or cry... In the midst of this storm, the Lord continues to shelter us in very real ways...
William is doing really well...walking with a limp, but walking nonetheless. Chelsea totally held down the fort in our absence. She and Chloe fed all the animals, watered all the animals, and hopefully enjoyed their time here. We will return the rental, pick up what we hope is a fixed van, and then pick up our other five children tomorrow morning...all before 11:30! :)
Results of the biopsy should be available in six to eight weeks. Dr Shoffner stated that sometimes it takes as long as 12 weeks...
As our life returns to our normal craziness, we remain grateful for our amazing friends who helped us through this trip, who helped provide some really cool experiences for William, who prayed for us, and who sat with us as we laugh and/or cry... In the midst of this storm, the Lord continues to shelter us in very real ways...
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Oops
Apparently, I did not enable that little box that allows the blog to be emailed to those of you who clicked on the "Follow this blog", but I have fixed it. I'm sorry!
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