The Heart Incident

(Note:  Those who don't want to read about CBW's Drama du Jour, please enjoy the unrelated photos.)

Once upon a time, exactly three years to the day from when Chesapeake Bay Woman took her very first helicopter ride to the hospital after a major car accident,  and about a week after her mother was in the ER for a heart issue, she was carried out of the house on a stretcher for a whirlwind, siren-enhanced ambulance ride to Riverside Walter Reed Hospital .

I had just finished up a six-mile walk around what I call the Wayland Church Loop, something I've run/jogged a million times before, but only a few times since completing chemo.  I was feeling OK but a bit thirsty.  Normally I carry room-temperature water in my vehicle, but this time I didn't. On the way home I stopped to get a cold Gatorade and took several chugs.

And that's when it all went haywire.

As I was driving, I started to see spots and felt very nauseous.  I was simultaneously sweating and cold and just felt awful.  Although I contemplated driving myself to the rescue squad I went home and felt certain I just needed to lie down.

Once I crawled into bed I called Middle Sister, who suggested we needed to go to the ER.  That sounded too extreme but while I was waiting for her to arrive, I vomited and quasi-blacked out.  All of a sudden a trip to the ER sounded reasonable.

In the interim, however, I couldn't lift my head off the bed, couldn't even fathom standing up and walking to get into her truck.  So, she called the Mathews Volunteer Rescue Squad.

Words can't express how comforting it was to see that Emily Brown, who graduated with my son and who I've watched from the sidelines of various sports events for years upon years, was one of the paramedics.  All three of the people I remember (there may have been more) could not have been more professional, more calming, more soothing and more reassuring during one of the most unexpectedly distressing times of my life.

When we arrived at the hospital, my resting heart rate was 187. After an IV of some magical concoction, the episode calmed down, but I was admitted for a couple of nights for observation and every test known to man.  In the days afterwards my chest has been tight and also sore.  The enzyme for heart attack had been elevated, but they don't think I actually had one.  (#Winning!)

In short, they're labeling it an a-fib episode and now I have a zillion follow-up appointments with various doctors, one of whom specializes in aneurysms--because I have one (ascending aortic).  Most of the doctors don't feel that was in any way responsible, but I am here to tell you I think it has contributed.  I also think the influx of cold liquid after exercising was a trigger.  Six months of chemo, that included a known heart-debilitating drug, could not have helped.  I've been unable to build up my endurance since chemo ended in March.

It's strange to me that this happened at all, much less three years to the day from my car accident.

I'm eternally grateful to Emily Brown, Chris Buchanan and anyone else associated with my ambulance ride.  They were there during the worst part of the episode and made the experience as palatable as it possibly could be.

If you consider your life boring and uneventful, Chesapeake Bay Woman says thank your lucky stars.  There is such a thing as too much excitement.

The End.

The Glebe

The other day on a whim, I took a much-overdue drive down the Glebe.

I rarely go down the Glebe, really, because I don't have any particular reason to.  But when I do, I always stop to take pictures of this soybean field and the little barn in the background.

Well, we all survived Thanksgiving.  My father is home and recovering nicely from all his health woes, although last week he was readmitted for a fever.  Thankfully they were able to control the situation, and he could return home in time for a fabulous Thanksgiving feast.

I completed my third chemo treatment last Wednesday, which means I have nine more to go.  So far, I continue to feel OK relatively speaking.  My hair has started to fall out, but thankfully I have so much of it, there's plenty to go around.  It's possible, although I'm not clinging to the notion, that I won't lose it all.  But if I do, I do. 

Aside from surviving, I've been trying to work when I can, although the commute and the stress of my job make for long days. It's shocking to realize the Christmas season is upon us once again, speaking of stress...I don't have the energy to battle with my huge artificial tree, so I am going to have to do something different this year.  What that is, I've not yet figured out. But it's going to involve a smaller, easier tree.  (Is there such a thing as an easy Christmas tree?)

Anyway, that's about it from my neck of the woods.  I hope all is well with you.

Iris and Lenja

About a week ago, my college friends Iris and Lenja came to Mathews for a visit.

We met at UVA in August 1982, which astonishingly means we've been friends for over 35 years.

(Thirty five years?  How is that even possible?)

Lenja (pronounced Len'-ya, rhymes with Kenya) lives in Cambridge, England, 

and Iris lives in McLean, Virginia.

During their visit we went to Bethel Beach and later had lunch in the Court House at Southwind.

It was warm enough to sit outside.

It was a wonderful visit.  We're already planning our next reunion, which may include a hiking trip through Portugal--once I'm done with my chemotherapy treatments next year.

Speaking of chemo, it's going reasonably well.  I've had two treatments thus far (one every two weeks) representing one complete cycle.  I'll need five more cycles, meaning I should be done in April.  Aside from some exhaustion, I really can't complain at all.  My white blood cell counts are very low, though, which just means I am more prone to infections and have to take precautions.  I'm supposed to steer clear of crowds and sick people and wash my hands frequently. 

Staying away from crowds is thankfully not a problem here in Mathews. 

Not a problem at all.

I hope all is well in your world.