APA is in New Orleans starting this weekend, and as always, we have a crowd attending from work. This from a meeting yesterday:
Boss: "I have a restaurant recommendation in New Orleans - Cochon, near the convention center. It means 'pig' in French. Tough reservation, but we got a table after waiting 40 minutes or so."
Colleague (grabbing a pen and taking notes): "How do you spell that?"
Me: "C-O-C-H-O-N"
Colleague: "Ooh ... you speak French?"
Me: "No ... I speak food."
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Worth the weight
Excerpting from the FAQ post (pre-myectomy) dated September 14, 2009:
"Though I don't intend myectomy to be a weight-loss surgery per se, I do expect to return to my highly active lifestyle once recovered - including regular gym workouts and walking a golf course. Neither of these are things I can do right now. Give me back my activity and my diet constructed to support it, and I expect that my weight will drop."
As of yesterday, my weight loss is 18 pounds off my peak. People are starting to notice. Which is a mixed blessing, but another story for another, more reflective time.
Take care,
Michael
"Though I don't intend myectomy to be a weight-loss surgery per se, I do expect to return to my highly active lifestyle once recovered - including regular gym workouts and walking a golf course. Neither of these are things I can do right now. Give me back my activity and my diet constructed to support it, and I expect that my weight will drop."
As of yesterday, my weight loss is 18 pounds off my peak. People are starting to notice. Which is a mixed blessing, but another story for another, more reflective time.
Take care,
Michael
Monday, April 5, 2010
Welcome to the machine
It took a while (mostly due to fear-based procrastination), but I graduated today from casual mall-type walks to a full-blown cardio workout. Did 30 minutes at the gym after lunch, including 15 minutes on an elliptical, with no symptoms whatsoever ... other than acute anxiety about 20 minutes in that I was going to get short of breath. Didn't happen. I feel good - I'm enjoying a nice post-workout endorphin rush and productivity boost.
This is huge from the mental perspective. I now know I can stress my body without fear that I'm going to feel crappy for days afterward. I've lived with that fear for almost 3 years, and now it's time to put it behind me. I'm trying to think of a symbolic, tangible way to do that - suggestions on this via the comment box are welcomed.
Take care,
Michael
This is huge from the mental perspective. I now know I can stress my body without fear that I'm going to feel crappy for days afterward. I've lived with that fear for almost 3 years, and now it's time to put it behind me. I'm trying to think of a symbolic, tangible way to do that - suggestions on this via the comment box are welcomed.
Take care,
Michael
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
I've got rhythm
We went to Boston this weekend for scheduled follow-ups with Dr. Ho. As usual, the visit included two echocardiograms, one complete resting and one after exercise. The gradient (a proximal measure of obstruction) is greatly reduced from where it was preoperatively, and almost absent at rest. This is welcome news, and not terribly surprising.
I'm coming down off the beta blockers. Dr. Ho thinks I'll soon be able to eliminate them completely. I'm not as certain - and, in fact, there are effects on anxiety and stage fright that I enjoy - but we'll see.
My EKG now shows (and will show, permanently) a left bundle branch block, which is quite common after a myectomy. This means that the electrical pathway through the left side of the heart is disrupted. It's not a cause for concern and doesn't require treatment, but is important to be aware of in case I ever develop coronary artery disease, as an EKG to evaluate a heart attack will be inconclusive. Dr. Ho put it as succinctly as possible after looking at my EKG: "Your left bundle went into the pathology bucket in the OR."
Still waiting for that morning when I wake up without chest soreness, the morning I'll know I can swing a golf club freely. It could reach 70 degrees this weekend, but I'll be limited to chipping and putting until it doesn't hurt to rotate my torso. Sigh.
Take care,
Michael
I'm coming down off the beta blockers. Dr. Ho thinks I'll soon be able to eliminate them completely. I'm not as certain - and, in fact, there are effects on anxiety and stage fright that I enjoy - but we'll see.
My EKG now shows (and will show, permanently) a left bundle branch block, which is quite common after a myectomy. This means that the electrical pathway through the left side of the heart is disrupted. It's not a cause for concern and doesn't require treatment, but is important to be aware of in case I ever develop coronary artery disease, as an EKG to evaluate a heart attack will be inconclusive. Dr. Ho put it as succinctly as possible after looking at my EKG: "Your left bundle went into the pathology bucket in the OR."
Still waiting for that morning when I wake up without chest soreness, the morning I'll know I can swing a golf club freely. It could reach 70 degrees this weekend, but I'll be limited to chipping and putting until it doesn't hurt to rotate my torso. Sigh.
Take care,
Michael
Friday, March 5, 2010
With apologies to James Brown
"I feel good."
(Did you know that I would?)
I'm asked about 217 times a day how I'm doing, and not in the usual small-talk sense. (It's OK, I appreciate that people are concerned and interested.) So I usually try to give a truthful answer.
Yesterday, in a meeting with my boss, I answered "I feel good." It was the quick, reflexive, unplanned, and therefore honest answer. And I took myself by surprise, because I cannot actually remember the last time I felt "good." I've answered "OK," "fair-to-middlin,", and "hanging in there," but not "good." Not in a couple of years, probably.
And then -- of course -- I hit the wall shortly afterward. Poetic justice. I felt good again this morning but tired this afternoon. My stamina is still rebuilding, but the upside is better than it has been, which is great.
We head to Boston a week from today for a follow-up appointment with Dr. Ho, and resting and stress echocardiograms. These will give a better picture (literally) of the surgical results, the extent of any residual obstruction. I expect some additional adjustments to medication as well. The beta-blocker dose has already been halved, and though I likely won't ever be off it completely, lower is better from a tolerability perspective.
TGIF - I need to catch up on rest, the workweek has definitely caught up with me.
Take care,
Michael
(Did you know that I would?)
I'm asked about 217 times a day how I'm doing, and not in the usual small-talk sense. (It's OK, I appreciate that people are concerned and interested.) So I usually try to give a truthful answer.
Yesterday, in a meeting with my boss, I answered "I feel good." It was the quick, reflexive, unplanned, and therefore honest answer. And I took myself by surprise, because I cannot actually remember the last time I felt "good." I've answered "OK," "fair-to-middlin,", and "hanging in there," but not "good." Not in a couple of years, probably.
And then -- of course -- I hit the wall shortly afterward. Poetic justice. I felt good again this morning but tired this afternoon. My stamina is still rebuilding, but the upside is better than it has been, which is great.
We head to Boston a week from today for a follow-up appointment with Dr. Ho, and resting and stress echocardiograms. These will give a better picture (literally) of the surgical results, the extent of any residual obstruction. I expect some additional adjustments to medication as well. The beta-blocker dose has already been halved, and though I likely won't ever be off it completely, lower is better from a tolerability perspective.
TGIF - I need to catch up on rest, the workweek has definitely caught up with me.
Take care,
Michael
Friday, February 26, 2010
Back to work
I'm back at work full time, which is mostly why I haven't updated here. My colleagues have been great about letting me ease back in. However, the consecutive 8-hour days (plus commute, on non-snow-days) take their toll, and I'm pretty exhausted to do much else. It takes time. I may be the only person who's thrilled at the snow - it means I can work from home, which is energy-conserving.
Medically, I'm doing fine. I've lost 6 pounds in the last 6 weeks. I'm presuming (hoping?) it's attributable to the walking and the renewed attention to diet (I've been consciously eating less, particularly at lunch), and not to fluid loss. I have medical clearance to join the gym, and I bought new shoes and new workout gear, so I feel like I've turned a corner there.
And in what is a marker of success, we spent last weekend in downtown Center City for my birthday. We did a lot of walking and a few large celebratory meals, which combination used to be a recipe for misery pre-surgery. I felt fine afterward, thank goodness. I very well may have had a meltdown if my symptoms had come back.
Take care,
Michael
Medically, I'm doing fine. I've lost 6 pounds in the last 6 weeks. I'm presuming (hoping?) it's attributable to the walking and the renewed attention to diet (I've been consciously eating less, particularly at lunch), and not to fluid loss. I have medical clearance to join the gym, and I bought new shoes and new workout gear, so I feel like I've turned a corner there.
And in what is a marker of success, we spent last weekend in downtown Center City for my birthday. We did a lot of walking and a few large celebratory meals, which combination used to be a recipe for misery pre-surgery. I felt fine afterward, thank goodness. I very well may have had a meltdown if my symptoms had come back.
Take care,
Michael
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Another milestone down
Saw my local cardiologist, Dr. Averbach, yesterday. He is very pleased with my progress and thinks I'm only going to feel better over the next weeks and months as my heart and body adjust to the removal of the obstruction.
But more importantly, he cleared me to sit in the front seat and drive, much to Jenn's chagrin. My independence = perceived end of useful support for Jenn. It's not true, of course, but it bothers her. I reminded her that I still need her to handle the snow (it's blizzarding now), but it doesn't seem to be helping.
Seriously, it's hard to be a caregiver, and she's been awesome and I love her.
Take care,
Michael
But more importantly, he cleared me to sit in the front seat and drive, much to Jenn's chagrin. My independence = perceived end of useful support for Jenn. It's not true, of course, but it bothers her. I reminded her that I still need her to handle the snow (it's blizzarding now), but it doesn't seem to be helping.
Seriously, it's hard to be a caregiver, and she's been awesome and I love her.
Take care,
Michael
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Snow day
For the heart surgery patient immediately postop (up to about 6 weeks), certain forms of exercise are good - walking, predominantly, anything that gets the blood moving at a steady pace through which a conversation can be kept up. On the flip side, no weight-lifting (lifting is restricted to 10 pounds, about the weight of a gallon of milk) and no burst- or grunt-type activity. Two cardiologists at different institutions have scientifically explained it to me in the exact same clinically oriented language: "nothing that makes you go 'unnnngggh'".
And definitely no shoveling snow. Only yesterday I mentioned to Jenn that we had been lucky this season, especially since our snowblower is still in the shop; we hadn't had snowfall for the entire month since my return from Cleveland. Naturally I hadn't checked the weather forecast and the weather gods decided make their presence known, and we got about 4 inches of the white stuff. Sorry, Philadelphia metro region. It's my fault.
We were planning to break out the golf clubs today (really! it's indoors) and I was going to chip and putt, but the snow plus some unexpected deep chest soreness today ended that idea. Maybe next week. Tomorrow we head to Massachusetts to visit my brother, sis-in-law and nephew:
And to walk a different mall. Same stores, different order.
Take care,
Michael
And definitely no shoveling snow. Only yesterday I mentioned to Jenn that we had been lucky this season, especially since our snowblower is still in the shop; we hadn't had snowfall for the entire month since my return from Cleveland. Naturally I hadn't checked the weather forecast and the weather gods decided make their presence known, and we got about 4 inches of the white stuff. Sorry, Philadelphia metro region. It's my fault.
We were planning to break out the golf clubs today (really! it's indoors) and I was going to chip and putt, but the snow plus some unexpected deep chest soreness today ended that idea. Maybe next week. Tomorrow we head to Massachusetts to visit my brother, sis-in-law and nephew:
And to walk a different mall. Same stores, different order.
Take care,
Michael
Friday, January 29, 2010
Skip this post if you're squeamish
Every morning I check the incision and chest tube sites. The chest tube sites look great - dry, tight, scabby and a good color (ie, not red). The incision is 95% healed, except for a 3/4" section at the bottom of the incision that has been a little slower to heal - it's been a little moist and scabby, whereas the rest of the incision is pretty much a residual scar by now. I've been treating this area daily with peroxide and/or iodine (depending on which bottle is closer) and occasionally covering with gauze, more to protect my clothes than the wound.
Seriously, if you're squeamish, stop reading here.
This morning (or overnight), the scab came loose prematurely and was quite wet. Attached to it, as I discovered when attempting to cleanly clip off the loose dead scab tissue, was a floppy protruding section of subcutaneous suture about 1.5 inches long. It's plastic thread, similar in texture to the gimmick that keeps your Thanksgiving turkey trussed until you get it from the store to your kitchen counter. So I clipped that too.
Now I'm left with a little bit of an opening in the skin where there shouldn't be one. Fortunately over the past 3 weeks the skin layers had healed themselves a good deal and the opening wasn't too bad (ie, I don't think it needs stitches). So, plenty of peroxide on the opening, and a new covering. It's not too red and not too painful, so I don't think it's infected, and I intend to keep it that way. I'll check it regularly and call my doc if it gets worse. Of course, it now being the weekend, if I truly need it stitched it means a non-emergency ER trip.
(Post-entry update: it looks great the next morning, reclosed on its own, clearly no need for stitches or anything interesting.)
Take care,
Michael
Seriously, if you're squeamish, stop reading here.
This morning (or overnight), the scab came loose prematurely and was quite wet. Attached to it, as I discovered when attempting to cleanly clip off the loose dead scab tissue, was a floppy protruding section of subcutaneous suture about 1.5 inches long. It's plastic thread, similar in texture to the gimmick that keeps your Thanksgiving turkey trussed until you get it from the store to your kitchen counter. So I clipped that too.
Now I'm left with a little bit of an opening in the skin where there shouldn't be one. Fortunately over the past 3 weeks the skin layers had healed themselves a good deal and the opening wasn't too bad (ie, I don't think it needs stitches). So, plenty of peroxide on the opening, and a new covering. It's not too red and not too painful, so I don't think it's infected, and I intend to keep it that way. I'll check it regularly and call my doc if it gets worse. Of course, it now being the weekend, if I truly need it stitched it means a non-emergency ER trip.
(Post-entry update: it looks great the next morning, reclosed on its own, clearly no need for stitches or anything interesting.)
Take care,
Michael
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Trying not to be a bump on a log
Every day is an effort to keep moving, because walking is about the best thing for me right now (and I start cardiac rehab as soon as I can get it scheduled). Plus, I'm bored at home. So we've been out and about, which means I haven't been on the computer much at all. And this blog suffers for it, alas.
So to beat cabin fever, we took a spontaneous trip today to Dublin. Shamrocks, Guinness and the Blarney Stone!
Sadly, no. Dublin, Pennsylvania, home of the nearest state driver's license photo center. For the next 4 years I can excuse my driver's license photo by explaining it was taken not 3 weeks after heart surgery.
It being cold and sometimes rainy here in January, we've been doing most of the walking in malls like this one, this one, and this one, as well as grocery stores/BJ's/Target - anything with lots of aisles, things to look at, and carts to lean on like walkers if needed (which I really haven't). Bonus points if the shopping center has a Barnes & Noble or Borders to take a break at (and so Jenn doesn't come home empty-handed).
The good news is, in all my walking, I haven't hit the wall yet - in fact, Jenn said today she was struggling to keep up. I haven't hit the gym for a "workout" yet, so I'm not ready to definitively term the surgery a success, but I'm very optimistic. I'd like the pain to subside a little more. I'm still taking a whole lot of Advil and Tylenol. My internist, Dr. Schwartz, and my HCM specialist at Brigham and Women's, Dr. Ho, both tell me to quit being a hero and take the Percocet. But that makes me loopy (not to mention "irregular"), and I dislike cognitive impairment just a little more than I dislike pain. Besides, I need something to complain about, else Jenn thinks she gets off easy.
Speaking of Dr. Ho, she gets major props from me here. She had just returned from maternity leave, saw my operative report in her inbox that must have been 2 feet high with papers, and called me personally on my cell phone to check on me and see if there was anything she could do. Wonderful, terrifically attentive (and expert) doctor.
Finally, for those of you in the Philadelphia area, here's a plug for my fellowship's annual choir concert. It's this Sunday, Jan. 31, 2:00 p.m. at the fellowship on Street Road in Warrington. I obviously won't be singing this year, but I'll be there and it should be wonderful. I have 2 tickets free to anyone interested, just contact me. And thanks to Dad for generously donating the printing for the programs.
Take care,
Michael
So to beat cabin fever, we took a spontaneous trip today to Dublin. Shamrocks, Guinness and the Blarney Stone!
Sadly, no. Dublin, Pennsylvania, home of the nearest state driver's license photo center. For the next 4 years I can excuse my driver's license photo by explaining it was taken not 3 weeks after heart surgery.
It being cold and sometimes rainy here in January, we've been doing most of the walking in malls like this one, this one, and this one, as well as grocery stores/BJ's/Target - anything with lots of aisles, things to look at, and carts to lean on like walkers if needed (which I really haven't). Bonus points if the shopping center has a Barnes & Noble or Borders to take a break at (and so Jenn doesn't come home empty-handed).
The good news is, in all my walking, I haven't hit the wall yet - in fact, Jenn said today she was struggling to keep up. I haven't hit the gym for a "workout" yet, so I'm not ready to definitively term the surgery a success, but I'm very optimistic. I'd like the pain to subside a little more. I'm still taking a whole lot of Advil and Tylenol. My internist, Dr. Schwartz, and my HCM specialist at Brigham and Women's, Dr. Ho, both tell me to quit being a hero and take the Percocet. But that makes me loopy (not to mention "irregular"), and I dislike cognitive impairment just a little more than I dislike pain. Besides, I need something to complain about, else Jenn thinks she gets off easy.
Speaking of Dr. Ho, she gets major props from me here. She had just returned from maternity leave, saw my operative report in her inbox that must have been 2 feet high with papers, and called me personally on my cell phone to check on me and see if there was anything she could do. Wonderful, terrifically attentive (and expert) doctor.
Finally, for those of you in the Philadelphia area, here's a plug for my fellowship's annual choir concert. It's this Sunday, Jan. 31, 2:00 p.m. at the fellowship on Street Road in Warrington. I obviously won't be singing this year, but I'll be there and it should be wonderful. I have 2 tickets free to anyone interested, just contact me. And thanks to Dad for generously donating the printing for the programs.
Take care,
Michael
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)