Gratitude Moday -- Renewed

Two weeks ago today I tossed aside my prescription heart medications.
I haven't felt this good in years.
This was a goal. I set out on it a few years ago. I slowly and methodically had my beta blocker dosage reduced from 200 mg a day down to 25 mg a day. The 25 mg was cut in half with 12.5 mg or thereabouts twice daily.
It was good enough, but I aimed to do better.
The digoxin was already at the lowest normal dosage.

I still have atrial fibrillation. It will likely take invasive medical intervention to cure it.
This does not interest me.
I take a low dose ASA. I am investigating mineral supplements to make me even healthier.
A-Fib, as we in the know call it, doesn't stop me from doing much except maybe shovelling snow.
This is not an issue for me.

My cardiologist said I could throw away the digoxin, but I have to keep the metoprolol (the beta blocker) around in case I have a  problem like shortness of breath.
I have no intention of having any problems.

I feel mentally sharper and physically more energetic. In short, renewed.
For this, and for having had the medications and for all they did for me, I am grateful.

I  feel as bouncy and agile as this goat.

Gratitude Monday -- Outlook Good

Athabasca Lookout

Yesterday I wore my favourite jeans for while. Well into the afternoon, in fact. These are my pre-heart condition jeans. I've had them for several years and they're comfy, as comfy as anything can be without Spandex.
This bodes well as it means I've lost a whole whack of water weight that I got when my heart messed up.
Even though I'm still in atrial fibrillation, I am considerably better.
The jeans proved it.
Someday soon I'll be able to wear them after lunch and ever after dinner. For now, I am content that they remained comfortable for as long as they did.
The outlook is good.

Gratitude Monday - In a Heartbeat

One of the bluebirds found on the Kootenay Plains.

It’s a great day.
It’s Monday, the start of a fresh week “with no mistakes in it” if you’ll let me quote Anne Shirley. (Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery. Anne was talking about a day, but I’m stupidoptimstic and will go with week).
I’m grateful for many things already and now I get to add a new one. On May 14 I’m going in for some outpatient heart surgery at the U of A.
It’s called catheter ablation for atrial fibrillation.
I got the call on Friday that it was set up. It’ll take all day and I have to stay in Edmonton that night in case I have to get back to the hospital for any reason.
I’ve decided I won’t have to, but I’ll stay handy to it anyway.
Prior to the surgery I need to have a cardioversion done again. It’s where the heart is stopped ever so briefly and then restarted. It’s done to restore proper sinus rhythm.
Once that’s done I get to stop taking the second beta blocker I was put on recently.
It’s all good and it’s just going to keep getting better.
**
The bluebird in the picture is, of course, the bluebird of happiness.
Have a great week, everyone.
I’m going to.

Zapped

This is a male House Finch. He stopped by and sang to me last week.
The presence of this photo is solely for your enjoyment and has absolutely nothing to do with the subject of today's post.
**

Today is my cardioversion.
I report to Red Deer Regional Hospital at 8 a.m. where I will be knocked out and my heart will be shocked into proper rhythm.
It worked once before and it will work again. The difference is this time it will take.
In a few weeks I'll be off the Coumadin and back eating broccoli.
Life is good.

Gratitude Monday – Heart and Hike Edition

Siffleur Falls

It is my great good fortune to live near the mountains. Our section of the Canadian Rockies has plenty of hikes and range from easy to strenuous. On Sunday we took one on the Kootenay Plains that leads to Siffleur Falls. It’s an easy hike with only one real steep section and it is not that steep.
It’s an easy drive out, too. It’s an hour and 45 minutes from Rocky on good highway. It makes for a good day out in the mountains.
I am especially grateful that I can do this hike after having gone through congestive heart failure before Christmas and then slipping back in to atrial fibrillation in February.
Last Thursday my lungs didn’t feel right. My chest was heavy toward the bottom of my ribcage and my lungs felt like they were being tickled inside.
I spent three hours in emergency getting checked out and it appears to have only been heartburn andor anxiety.
The doctor asked me if I’d had heartburn.
Yes.
Then he asked if I’d had any anxiety.

Yes, after my lungs started feeling all tickly I sure did get anxious. I did my best to control it, though. I refuse to succumb to suggestion.
Thursday’s chest X-Ray has been forward to Red Deer Regional Hospital for a more learned opinion. If there’s anything I’ll hear about it shortly. It is my position that there is nothing to hear.
I’m grateful that I got it checked out and that the doctor was thorough. He even spoke to my cardiologist at the U of A about it before setting me free.
I’m grateful for the good care, and I’m grateful that I was able to go hiking with my husband yesterday.

Mike, who is part of the forest in his own way. And me, on the trail to Siffleur Falls.

ER And Me

“If you weren’t sitting up and talking, I’d be worried.”
Although he was smiling as he said it the doctor was unmistakably worried: he’d been unable to find my pulse.
He frowned a bit over my blood pressure and gave me the stethoscope so I could listen to my heart. I believe he wanted to reinforce the fact that something was very wrong. My heartbeat was weak and rapid, up to 200 beats a minute.

Lack of breath and a ribcage that felt two sizes too small made me go to the clinic. I’d had this for a while but it when from annoying to painful overnight. I shoveled snow one day with no problem. I shoveled about the same amount of snow the next day in nearly identical weather conditions and my chest ached and my lungs felt as though they were been squeezed. I thought it was asthma.

Then one night I could not exhale properly. The following nights found me unable to find a position that let me breathe right. On a Thursday in mid-December I walked a half-block to collect the mail and had to rest four times. I hike in Canadian Rockies. Summers find me routinely taking 10 mile bike rides. Something was terribly wrong.

“Well, it’s not asthma,” said the doctor.
“That’s good.”
“It‘s something worse.” He went on to tell me all he could hear in my lungs was fluid. I was to get to ER now. He called over and told them I was coming and that I had atrial fibrillation.

The top two chambers of my heart had stopped. The bottom two were trying vainly to make up for it and this led to congestive heart failure.

At ER I was given oxygen first, asked several questions, and had a few IV leads installed. My blood pressure was taken as well as a few others vitals, I had an ECG and a chest X-ray and I was hooked to a cardio monitor that became my boon companion for the next several days.

Then it was time to get the fluid out of my lungs. A highly effective and very fast-acting diuretic was injected through the IV. I had to have a catheter for this and at first I didn’t want it. My mind changed quickly.
The diuretic took effect in less than 10 minutes. I recall saying that before they did anything else they really needed to put in the catheter.
A small balloon is inserted inside the bladder to keep it inflated so it can drain. Putting in the balloon and the tube is uncomfortable though blessedly quick.
Once we got a good drain going and it was obvious that my kidneys were fine it was time to straighten out the heartbeat.

I had an IV cardio conversion, a heart rebooting. A drug was sent in through the IV to stop my heart. Its own electrical energy restarts it, theoretically in proper rhythm. The drug sent jagged edged lightning speeding up my left arm.

When I was 11 years old I accidentally touched a live spark plug. I felt an explosion in my elbows and shoulders and the next thing I knew I was three feet away facing the opposite direction. I’m glad it happened because it put the cardio conversion in perspective. For as painful as it was, touching a live spark plug is worse.

The doctor had mumbled something about how the procedure might not work. It didn’t work. He also mumbled at one point, “We don’t have much time.”

I went in to Emergency round 9:30 a.m. and I was there until nearly 3 p.m. before being transferred to the hospital’s Special Care Unit.
I had up to six medical professionals working on me for about two hours. Long about 11:30 a.m. this dropped down to one person checking in sometimes.
This was a very good sign.





Showing off the assorted IVs as well as cardio monitor, oxygen, blood oxygen level monitor, blood pressure cuff, and there's a catheter, too, though the tube doesn't show.