My year in the pit

Have you ever felt like you were in a pit and you couldn’t climb out? Like every time you got up a little, the rocks would slide out from beneath you and you had to start all over again?

That is what the last year or so has been like for me.

I moved into a small one bedroom apartment last March. I moved everything from the home I was staying in while I recovered from cancer, and a storage unit where I had enough furniture for a 2 bedroom and a dining room. It was a nightmare.

I spent the next few weeks sorting, cleaning and giving away so much stuff. At least my daughter will have a lot less to deal with… 

Finally I could relax and recover from weeks of pushing my body beyond its limits, right?

Nope. I got Covid. 

I was sick for about 10 days. But after it was over, I was left weak. I worked hard on rebuilding my stamina. I was making pretty good progress when I got Covid AGAIN. This time was a repeat. I was sick for 10 days, and again left weak.

Start over…

When I was feeling somewhat better, friends of mine had some work done at their house. Sure, I would do the deep clean. It was tough, but I was getting it done. Until I fractured a rib stretching to reach an upper corner.

What the heck! I was down for another week.

So, back to trying to build stamina and my calf starts cramping. I figured it was a muscle, so I did all the stuff – icing, exercise, rest, … It didn’t help.

Turns out I had a clot. This was around August. It took over a month to get an appointment with my cardiologist. Then weeks to get the tests. Then weeks to see the doctor to go over the results. I finally got the procedure 11/11.

In the meantime, my GP suggested I get the flu shot. I had such a bad year, I figured it was a good idea.

Wrong.

I got sick from the shot. I was down another week.

So, I figured this had to be the end of this streak. I was very slowly getting stronger.

I agreed to dog sit for a week. That requires moving food, clothes, personal stuff, computer – Everything I need to live for a week. I got everything into the house and felt like I could relax.

A couple days in, after dinner I was feeling weird. I was short of breath, which isn’t unusual with COPD, but this felt worse. At the same time, my body signaled it was time to go unload. I made it up the stairs to the throne, but I was too weak to stay on it long enough.

I grabbed a towel and laid on the floor. Yes, even in the midst of a medical emergency, I’m still a clean freak.

I tried calling 911, but it didn’t seem to be working.

I knew I could call my daughter… She didn’t answer. I left a message that I needed help.

While I laid there pondering my next move…Fortunately she called back within a few minutes. She called 911 for me.

Then they call me. I struggle to give them the info they need. Thank heaven I had left the door unlocked. I don’t usually.

OK, the guys are coming. They can’t see me like this. I managed to stand up and roll all the soiled stuff up and throw it in the tub. I grabbed a wash cloth and tried to clean myself. I got my pants most of the way up before I had to return to the floor.

Oh, and did I mention – in the midst of all this, I was having a hot flash. I ripped off my hoodie and t shirt and was left in a talk top. Its March in northern Illinois. They got my pants up and took me out like that. Yikes!

When my daughter went to clean up and retrieve my stuff, she said it looked like a crime scene.

Anyway – When I regained consciousness after an angiogram, the Doctor tells me I have a broken heart. What?

That is really what it is called. Technically it is called a stress induced myocardis. My heart was pumping at only 30%.

I was sent home with oxygen. I had physical therapy. I’m getting better day by day. I’m mostly off oxygen.

My cardio rehab doesn’t start until the middle of June. Getting appointments these days is nearly impossible. Isn’t that why we didn’t want social medicine?

In the meantime, I’m doing my exercises, trying to increase walking, resistance band curls, and I’ve added stairs to the mix.

I have a lot of questions that have no answers …

• Did I push my body too hard?
• Did Covid cause the blood clot, or was it just that I had been down so much?
• The cardiologist said I was doing something right – my arteries were clean.

Anyway, I recovering.

In the meantime, Common Sense Living has languished. Technology is moving so fast. I didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with it. I’ve questioned whether I even wanted to do this anymore.

But you know – the world has gotten so crazy. Common Sense is in short supply. I guess I still have a lot to say.

So, I’m rebuilding.

I’ve got a bunch of half finished articles to complete.

It will take me a bit of time and money to rebuild the vault. I’m working on it.

I’m not ready to give up yet.

How about you?

Is there something in your life that has been dying a slow death that you’re not ready to give up yet?

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