Joining Carole and friends for Three on Thursday, today with Three Ways That A Pulmonary Embolism Changes Your Life. I made a deal with myself not to focus too intently on this, but it happened, so I also can't deny it. Here are a few things I've been thinking about recently.
1. No flights for six months. This isn't a huge deal, but we've always gone to visit Ryan during the summer. I can't fly until the end of September, but John is talking about visiting Ryan by himself before that since he hasn't seen him since last summer. Of course, Ryan can come east and visit all of us, but there isn't quite as much to do in Flemington as Fort Collins. Actually, there is almost nothing to do in Flemington, and Ryan would have to sleep in his childhood single bed instead of his comfortable king size, so Fort Collins does have big advantages. We'll see ...
2. Bleeding. After you have a pulmonary embolism, you are usually placed on an anticoagulant to prevent future clots. The doctor prescribed Eliquis for me, and it's wonderful because I take a small pill twice a day but don't have to have any special monitoring with blood work or follow a restricted diet. It is very expensive, but that's what our Health Savings Account is for.
Because Eliquis is meant to prevent clotting, that means bleeding can be a concern. I shave my legs with an electric razor and am very careful with kitchen knives now. I pinched my index finger trying to open a stuck window in MD and it started to bleed. Forty minutes and half a roll of paper towels later it was still bleeding. It finally stopped after almost an hour, so I took that as a reminder that it is worth paying serious attention to the risk of bleeding.
3. Anxiety. When I was first discharged, I paid attention to every little physical twinge I felt and started to drive myself crazy. After a couple of weeks when I began to feel well enough to exercise and mow, my anxiety really ramped up. The doctor reassured me that I was doing well, so I've tried to take a more reasonable approach. Meditation has helped, and so has telling my family members how I feel. I wrote letters to my children after I realized that any pre-PE sense of immortality was false and tomorrow was never guaranteed. Post-PE recognition of mortality is hard to accept, but it's honest and has helped me to live in the present, express my feelings, and appreciate what I have today. Now it's time to go mow and appreciate that I can get out in the sun and fresh air, move my muscles, and sweat a bit!
Head on over to Carole's for more Three on Thursday thoughts.
I'm sorry that you've had to go through all this and that it's had such a major impact on your life. I'm glad that at least your doctor thinks you're doing well, and I hope you continue to be well. And at least you have a pretty medical bracelet!
ReplyDeleteI cannot imagine trying to figure out life after such a dramatic and scary event. But, I am so glad that you are taking one day at a time and being mindful about your well-being.
ReplyDeleteHowever, I think that there is a way you can go visit Ryan this summer - Amtrak...get on the train - and it is another perfect place to KIP!
I completely understand. But the plus side - and in the end, it is - of something like this is that you learn to appreciate yourself and every single day because you KNOW it's not permanent. Enjoy your life, your family, your world. No one else can do it like you can.
ReplyDeleteIt is absolutely life changing when life's "veil of illusion" gets pulled aside . . . and you realize that YES, indeed, life is limited. Even mine. It's terribly unnerving and anxiety-provoking. But it also helps you appreciate the most lovely things in life -- sun, fresh air, moving your muscles, and sweating a bit! (The mowing? Not so much. . . ) I'm so glad you're here, Bonny. XO
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry you are having to go through all. I can't imagine what an emotional event it must have been/is. I broke my back when I was 19 and was told I'd probably never walk again... but my surgeon was a miracle worker and I walked out of the hospital on my own two feet a week later. I went through a period of being afraid to even breathe.... then a looong period of feeling invincible. After all, I'd survived the back ordeal, I could survive anything! Luckily I started having kids and that responsibility scared me back into a more normal and safe lifestyle. Maybe a little too safe. These days, my riskiest behavior is yarn shopping days before payday. :) Take care of yourself! Glad you are okay! And what a pretty bracelet!
ReplyDeleteThis is such a good post Bonny. A sobering one, but also a very good reminder for us all to value and enjoy every single day. I'm glad you are here too! And I like Kat's idea of Amtrak - that could end up being a fun trip!!
ReplyDeleteEliquis is a very good drug, so be glad you are on that one. You probably don't need to be overly concerned about bleeding unless you have a major accident, and in that case, you would need medical attention anyway. It's very smart to have the bracelet. I certainly understand the anxiety, but I think that will get better over time. A reminder that you are mortal is certainly terrifying, but it can be a wake-up call to reset priorities, and it seems you are using the experience to do that. I haven't had my mortality terror yet, but I know it is only a matter of time. It seems to me that you have done amazingly well in navigating these waters, Bonny, and you serve as an example for the rest of us as to how to just get on with it. Take good care and enjoy every day!
ReplyDeleteI appreciate so much that you shared your thoughts on this with us. My friend Doreen had a PE last year due to the drugs she takes for breast cancer and I know it was scary for her. Hearing this from you will help me to understand what she went through. I'm so so glad you are okay and continue to be!
ReplyDeleteOh I think your anxiety is well founded. Anxiety is really a devil to live with and I battle it occasionally. If I immerse myself in something that takes up all of my brain space I can crowd it out. Please be careful with the bleeding, yikes!!
ReplyDeleteYour bracelet is beautiful and so important . You had a big big scare! It takes time to recover our sense of security . Sharing this with us might help you as sometimes putting it down on paper makes it a bit more manageable. Anxiety and I have a history and it isn't nice. If you find yourself not sleeping, not eating or not wanting to participate in life, get help fast. Don't wish it away. We are here to help.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Kathy. Learning this has actually been a valuable lesson for me. I regain a little more security each day, but I hope I don't get to the point where I begin to take things for granted. Tomorrow isn't guaranteed, and I want to enjoy and participate each and every day.
Delete"Recognition of mortality." I'm glad that life is returning more to "normal." I hope you can get out to CO! I second Kat's Amtrak idea!!
ReplyDeleteBecause of my major health challenge I have the pleasure of being a person who feels grateful for every single thing I have. Grateful for time, for health, for home, for family, and for so much more. When someone says they are upset by all they don't have (even though the have more than most) I feel grateful all over again for my feelings of gratitude. We are very fortunate to live in the time of medical marvels (and to be one!). xo
ReplyDeleteAnd you can have a beer when you finish mowing! This is a great and important post Bonny. And the anxiety is certainly warranted! I agree with the others that hopefully that will diminish as time goes on. And man if I was retired I'd be booking us both a train ticket!
ReplyDeleteI can certainly see what you feel anxious. Perhaps it keeps us all a little safer to be anxious. I think it takes awhile to come to terms with any change in our health status. Mary Pipher writes about this in her latest book. I'm glad you have that bracelet. You've made good progress. I admire your honesty.
ReplyDeleteOh my ... it's eye-opening just how many "easy" things we (I) take for granted. I really admire how you're handling all of this. cheering you on, with gratitude for what you're teaching me. xoxo.
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