Cabernet and an Allen Wrench

Yesterday, my birthday, I had three different appointments at Hopkins. Wound care, echocardiagram, and occupational therapy. Then there are days like today when I am parked on the couch, surfing the web, maybe watching a video or reading a book. Or thinking. I think we all have images of ourselves that are enhanced by how others see us. and I, for one, feel a need to live up to this image. "You're so strong" "You are amazing." And I AM strong. And I AM amazing. But Im also overwhelmed. And at times very sad. The rehab team at Hopkins assigned me a therapist-- how great is that! We do zoom calls every other week. We had a call on Monday and I recounted an incident to her, and described it as a "pity party." After my description of what happened, my therapist had what was really a fairly obvious insight. I wasn't having a pity party; I was grieving. And considering what I have been through, it's not just expected-- it's encouraged. And...

I go to Occupational Therapy twice a week, and the last few sessions have focused on my right arm. There a a large plate and lots of long screws starting at my shoulder and working its way down. It is both mezmorizing and horrifying to look at the x-rays. That bone must have been pretty pulverized. At this point the bone is pretty well healed, but the muscles have a lot to say about the situation. I am sure they had to be moved all over the place to get my arm looking like an arm again. Today, my OT,Kaitlyn, started the session with heat. which I think of as my spa time. Parrafin on my left clenched fist, a pad under my right elbow, and another pad on my left upper arm and shoulder. She then went to work on the right arm, using their version of cupping on it. After that, we started me moving the arm-- side to side, up and down. There is one particular spot that does not want to release. But I will keep working. I went back to acupuncture yesterday to see if that could help, and wi...

My caregiver, who has been coming on Wednesdays and Fridays, is having a difficult pregnancy and had to quit. Her boss, who runs the small agency has filled in, but Jerry and I are looking hard at what I really need. My biggest issue, and really my only issue, is getting to the portable commode, or if I am in bed, using the bedpan. A friend who works from home is set up to come on Mondays. She came this past Monday and the one time I needed a bedpan everything was fine. oh, and she also made me a sandwich for lunch. She runs a small nonprofit so the bit of extra income is helpful, and she can work undisturbed. If I could find three Annies our problems would be solved. For me, it really is perfect. No one is hovering; no one is trying to invent things to do. I can read, relax, without worry that I have someone in the house to keep busy. I am months away from being able to bear weight on my arms. The frustration is overwhelming. My left leg is kickass strong. That my arms are taking ...

Who knew having one's chest sawed open would be so tiring. Since I got home on Saturday, I have barely left the bed. This little adventure has definitely pushed back my rehab and recovery, likely by months. No lifting until December, which means no weight bearing, so no crutches or walker. I am doing my best to take this in stride, but it's damn hard. My dear friend Nancy's son Nathan, when he was two or three, had a favorite expression: That Not Fair! I hear that little voice in my head multiple times a day. But then I play the it could be worse game. I could be dead. I could have no chance of recovery. I'm not dead. And to some extent, I will recover. I am honestly unsure how I would cope with another setback. Is it three strikes, you're out? If you count my ovarian cancer, I've used them up. But I think I know better. I don't want to play comparisons or can you top this, but despite it all, my life is pretty good. I have a loving spouse and wonderf...

 The forest descends upon you. I woke up on Sunday with a headache but didn’t thing much about it . Until I went to get up. Dizzy,  light headed, trouble breathing. It did not pass quickly so Jerry called an ambulance. Good thing he did. Turns out I had two clots in my heart. By that evening I was in surgery.  So along with my debulking scar I’ve got one above. Yesterday was hideous. Nonstop nausea and pain. The staff could not be nicer. A far cry from the Trundle Ward. But today I’m feeling a whole lot better. Typing is hard because I have IVs in both hands  (and about a dozen other places)but I’m no longer nauseated and it only hurts when I cough. If things keep improving I was move from ICU to a step down ward tomorrow. You know I’m ready

To anyone else in the restaurant who arrived after we did, the four of us looked like two couples enjoying a wonderful dinner on a Thursday evening. But to Jerry and me, and in reality to Kim and Dave as well, it was so much more. It was the first time Jerry and I had gone out to dinner since returning to Baltimore. Black Olive, our favorite restaurant, has an easy entrance, so Jerry rolled me up to the table, and we did our transfer dance. I sat in a restaurant chair. I wore the dress I had planned to wear in London for our 20th anniversary dinner. I wore earrings. Jerry had washed my hair earlier in the day. I felt special. And normal. My nonexistent foot did not fall asleep or itch. My arms were not painful. For the first time in months, I felt like everyone else. Demitris, the manager, knew what a special occasion it was, and he gifted us with a delicious bottle of champagne. A lovely way to start the evening. Kim was the instigator of the evening, and perhaps she and Dave are...

I think I mentioned before that I cried just about every day when I was on the ward at the hospital in London. But those were mostly tears-filled eyes begging for Jerry to get me home. But yesterday was the real thing. The explosion. Sobbing. Ugly crying. The thing is, looking back,I can't even remember what triggered it. But it was likely one of the common themes-- I can't even walk across the room to make a cup of coffee. Jerry has to do everything for me. I spend my day on the couch. And then the thoughts got darker. Well, at least I'm almost 70 so I won't have long to live like this. Imagine if this happened when I was 30! If I had died, Jerry would grieve but then he'd at least have a chance to get on with his life, unencumbered. I knew at that point I better look for help. I called the rehab department, because according to their website, they offer counseling. But I was told I needed a referral, and I don't see the rehab doc for another couple weeks. ...