Life on a Leash

Have you ever asked your dog how it feels to live on a leash?  I don’t know how well your canine companion could describe the experience.  But recently I’ve developed some personal sympathy with dogs on leashes, and I can tell you that it makes a world of difference which end of the leash one is attached to! 

The one at the controller end of the leash continues to enjoy life at liberty.  At the other end, the controlled end, life looks and feels very different.  How do I know that?  I’m learning it from personal experience. 

You see, for the past two months I have been living on a leash, not just when I go for a walk, but all the time; 24/7 as they say.  It’s no fun, but, as a friend in advanced stages of black lung disease used to say, “It’s better than a pine box.”

For months – perhaps years – I assumed that being short of breath was an unavoidable part of getting old.  I had never gotten old before, so I didn’t know what to expect.  Then, about Thanksgiving, I could ignore it no longer. 

Seeing my doctor on an urgent basis, she took one look at me and said, “You need oxygen - today!”  The prescriptions she wrote out immediately became my personal leash law!  Finding oxygen supplies on an emergency basis was not easy and we had to guarantee private pay to get it immediately.  But within an hour of getting hooked up to the oxygen concentrator, my shortness of breath was gone and my energy was returning.

A day or two later, the lung doctor named it: “You have pulmonary fibrosis.”  Over the years I have forgotten much of what I learned in nursing school, but I knew what that diagnosis meant.  Some of the little air-exchanging sacs inside my lungs had developed scars and were not working anymore.  In order to take in enough oxygen for my body to function, it had to be piped in from outside.

Thus, when we are at home, our house is filled with the gentle hum of a machine that takes in room air and concentrates the oxygen in it to a higher percentage.  That rich oxygen is continuously pumped down a tube connected directly into my nose, held in place by being wrapped around my ears.  My leash is over 25 feet long so I can wander all over our little condo without getting hung - unless it gets caught on something along the way!

Going away from home is a little more complicated and it has taken us several weeks to get the system perfected.  First, we have to decide how long we’re going to be out.  If we will be gone for several hours, my nose tube (cannula) gets connected to a tank so large that it has to be moved on a wheeled dolly. 

If our “away-from-home adventure” is just for a short time, I get hooked instead to a small (5 pound) portable tank.  A handy-dandy little carrying bag allows me to carry it in my hand or over my shoulder.  But wherever we go and for whatever period of time we are gone, my leash limits my freedom!

So, on behalf of your leash-controlled dog, I will tell you that such a limitation is inconvenient, a nuisance, uncomfortable, and sometimes dangerous.  When I accidentally step on my own leash, I am sometimes abruptly pulled into positions I never dreamed of!  When my leash gets wrapped around my leg or foot, I can easily trip myself!  At those times I have sometimes called it some very nasty names!

No, I don’t like it, just as your dog probably doesn’t like the leash.  But far worse than life on a leash would be life confined to bed and unable to function at all!  Erma Bombeck, widely-read humorist, wrote “If you can laugh at it you can live with it!”  I’m discovering that is excellent advice.  Life is full of humor, especially when living on a leash.  I hope your dog can learn to laugh, too!

15Jan2018 - mshr

LOST AND FOUND: the Adventures of Aging

Hide and seek was a game I enjoyed when I was young.  Everyone hid while IT counted to 100 with eyes shut tight.  Then it was time for IT to go seek.  If one who had hidden could slip into home base undetected while IT was out seeking, the hider was safe.  If IT quickly found you in your hiding place, you became IT for the next round.  If  IT never found you, you earned bragging rights in the neighborhood and a secret, safe hiding place for the future.

That was such fun to play when I was young – and the game seems fitting for youth.  Early in life, we are constantly seeking new skills to master, new knowledge to prepare us for the future, new worlds to explore.  Sometimes, as children, we also hide from parental expectations and adult assumptions.  Yes, hide and seek seems like the appropriate game for the young.

However, day by day, I am learning that the aging play a different game: it’s called lost and found!  It’s a group game because everybody has to play it.  But it’s also a solitary game because each aging person is IT all the time and can ‘t pass off the game to someone else!  It’s not as physically active as hide and seek but it is a constant emotional – and spiritual – strain.

The goal of the game is simple: to try to keep life in balance and useful.  There is only one rule: for every loss experienced, find something new and positive in order to maintain the balance that makes life livable.  For example, loss of energy as the years pile up can be balanced with more time to enjoy the beauties of nature during frequent rest periods.  The loss of the smooth facial skin of youth can be balanced by cherishing the stories behind each and every wrinkle!  Gray hairs can become a badge of wisdom; a slow, unsteady step can be celebrated by reflecting on the many rough trails those feet have carried you over.

Small losses like these are not too difficult to keep in balance as you find new perspectives from which to view your life.  But when the losses are major – or come unexpectedly, like an avalanche – the game of  Lost and Found becomes very difficult indeed!  It’s no fun at all, and makes us feel like losers.  But we have to play it, whether we like it or not!

Loss of eyesight, loss of hearing, loss of mobility or memory, loss of a spouse or the death of a loved one are the kinds of personal losses that knock us off  balance in life.  We can strive to establish a new balance, but loss of strength and energy make it hard not to just wallow in the tears of these losses.

So, that’s the stage in this Lost and Found game when it’s helpful to call upon a friend, a partner in play.  Not just any friend, mind you, but a trusted Friend.  One who knows all about loss and suffering, loneliness and fear but shares hope at every step as the journey grows darker. 

Finally, we come to the point in life’s game when there’s nothing more to find, and the only thing  left to lose is life.  Then that Friend takes our hand and walks with us out of the life where everything’s been lost and into a new life where everything’s waiting to be found anew.

23June2017 - mshr

SPRING PROMISE

Aching as I walked,

I wondered if my life would ever again

be joy-filled and bright.

Then I found my answer.

It was only a small shrub

– two bare branches rising up from the earth –

but at their tips

tiny green buds had appeared.

I breathed a prayer of thanks,

and was blessed again

by the yellow smiles of daffodils.

24March2017 - mshr

UNPREDICTABILITY

The calendar said it was almost spring,

but snow covered the bright daffodil blooms.

Weather is unpredictable;

Mother Nature is a Mistress of Surprises!

My mind says that spring

should always bloom in my body,

but the aches of age

blot out that lovely wish.

Life, too, is unpredictable;

the Creator sometimes surprises me.

But,

being more loving than Mother Nature,

always comforts and carries me through.

18March2017 - mshr

WALK ON THE BEACH

Surely the Almighty is like the ocean

a vast sea of loving goodness

waves constantly breaking around me

and over me

kissing me with pure white foam

and trickles of water

between my bare toes.

While invisible beneath the roiling surface

pulses deep, fertile, and mysterious 

power.

Shore birds feed sumptuously

on the gleanings of the surf.

Tiny crabs, like silent monks,

dash quickly into their sandy homes,

close to the water

but safe from the waves.

A peace I cannot understand envelopes me

as I walk the beach.

The nearness of God 

has washed the stress from my soul

as the waters rinse the sand from my feet.

No wonder, Incarnate Word,

that You spent so much time on the seashore,

inviting us

– and all of creation –

to come and experience 

the reality,

the power,

and the joy

of the One from whom You came.

6 March 2017 - mshr

A Visit to Inniswood Metro Park

On Easter Day we decided to take our afternoon walk at the Inniswood Botanical Garden and Nature Preserve, more commonly known as Inniswood Metro Gardens -- a botanical garden and nature preserve located slightoy less than three miles from our home in Westerville, Ohio.  While we enjoyed the beauty of South Texas for the past ten winters, we are thoroughly delighted to see spring flowers of Ohio once again. We were  not alone as countless other people were enjoying the warm Easter afternoon for a leisurely stroll through the beautiful gardens and wooded areas. 

We certainly could not remember the names of all the plants and trees we saw during our walk on Sunday afternoon, but we thoroughly enjoyed the beauty.   And, yes, we will be returning to the Inniswood Gardens regularly throughout the coming weeks and months.

A December we'll remember (even if we try to forget!)

We were congratulating each other at how smoothly our transition to settled life had gone.  Our "to do" list shrank steadily during the months of July, August, September and October:

• house shopping, check;
• house purchase, mid-July (after only 2 days of shopping!);
• buying necessary furniture, 2 weeks in late July and early August;
• closing on house, mid-August;
• immediate possession (house clean!);
• furniture deliveries begin day after we move in;
• we begin exploring the neighborhood;
• we trade the Ram truck for a Honda CRV in mid-September;
• we locate needed health care professionals and make "get acquainted" appointments;
• we sell the fifth wheel to a lady who lives near our son in Athens County, early October;
• we begin to enjoy the joys of the area such as the bike trail, local restaurants, the hometown symphony, plays at the local university, line dance classes, etc.
• we manage to keep up our routine of exercise walking 2 to 3 miles each morning;

In November, we enjoyed sharing Thanksgiving with family for the first time in ten years.

Then December arrived!

Bruce has known since the early 1980s that the aortic valve in his heart was not working properly. Over the years since then he has been very diligent about having it checked by a cardiologist at least twice a year.  It has become steadily less efficient as the opening has progressively narrowed.

Echocardiograms and cardiac catheterizations have been done regularly.  They show the problem but doctors did not want to do the corrective surgery as long as Bruce was having no symptoms of cardiac distress.  When the cardiologists questioned him about symptoms, he would say, "No, no shortness of breath, no chest discomfort, no weakness or dizziness even when I walk several miles each morning and dance a couple of hours several nights a week."  Invariably, a shocked expression would spread across the doctor's face and he would say, "Oh.  Well, let's just keep an eye on it then. See you in six months."

Bruce's new cardiologist here in Westerville responded in exactly the same way.  He did, however, schedule a new diagnostic test for early December.

Then the first day of December with all its unexpected surprises, arrived.  It was cooler than we were used to -- but not really cold --, as we went for our morning walk.  About halfway along our route, he said, "I'm going to have to slow down a little.  I feel a little light-headed."  We did slow down (for which I was thankful!) and he voiced no more complaints.  Later, as we were walking home from Line Dance class, he said, "I had the strangest little spell of weakness during class.  But it went away; didn't last long."

We had a conference call on the phone that afternoon.  We had adjourned and I had gone off to do something around the house while he continued in phone conversation with a friend.  Suddenly I heard him call my name.  When I reached his side, he said, "I'm sick." I helped him to our bedroom to lie down on our bed while I took his vital signs: blood pressure low, pulse weak and rapid.  He reported the discomfort he had in his chest was easing up now that he was lying down.  "Shall I call 911?" I asked.  He nodded his head "Yes."

I don't know where the emergency squad had to come from but they were here in a matter of minutes.
They very respectfully and efficiently went about assessing Bruce who was now feeling a bit better.  In about 20 minutes, they had loaded him  into the ambulance and were on their way to the hospital.  Our dear neighbor had come out to see what all the excitement was about and she carefully gave me directions to the hospital, which was only 2 miles away.

I arrived and found him comfortably settled in a cubicle in the emergency department.  He was having no discomfort but announced to me, "They are going to keep me at least overnight."  I was relieved that he would be under professional observation for awhile, but my intuition was already signaling that it would be longer than just overnight.

He was moved upstairs to a very comfortable and impressive private room and was scheduled for a cardiac cath the following day.  I finally found my way to the cafeteria after asking directions of at least half a dozen people.

I stayed with him into the evening, silently patting myself on the back for staying so calm.  However, when I left to go home, I had to spend 45 minutes wandering around the parking lot.  I couldn't find my car!  I could not remember where I had parked it and I was surrounded by acres of parking lots!  I finally found it with the help of that handy-dandy little push button on the key fob that causes the headlights to flash!  By the time I got home, I was exhausted!

The next morning, while Bruce was undergoing a cardiac catheterization, I was sitting in the office of an attorney.  We had made that appointment planning to meet with him together.  He was quite understanding, but asked many questions I could not answer intelligently.  So, of course, we will have to continue that consultation in the future when both of us can be present!

By the time I got back to the hospital, Bruce informed me that he was scheduled for surgery the following day.  His faulty aortic valve would be replaced with a valve from animal tissue.  I stayed late at the hospital hoping to have a chance to speak with the surgeon.  However, he came to Bruce's room just after I left to go home.  We did have a phone conversation which I found very reassuring.  Throughout the afternoon we had received e-mails and phone calls from many friends who were already holding us up in prayer.

Surgery morning I arrived at the hospital early even though his surgery was not scheduled until early afternoon.  A friend from our local church family surprised us by coming to the hospital and staying with me until Bruce was taken to surgery.  We were grateful for his presence and his prayers.

The surgery is apparently painstaking and, to those awaiting news, seems very long. Bruce left for the operating room at 1:15 pm and I got only brief reports until 7:30 pm. Then the surgeon came out and gave me a more complete account of the procedure. Bruce had tolerated the surgery well and there was no evidence of any damage to the heart because of the faulty valve.

Shortly after that brief conversation, I was allowed into the cardio-vascular intensive care unit to see Bruce myself.  As I expected, he looked awful!  He was being assisted to breathe by a ventilator connected to a tube down his throat, about which he was quite restless.  He was connected to several IVs, a cardiac monitor displaying his vital signs constantly, and had tubes coming out of both known and unknown holes in his body!  I called his name, kissed him several times, and headed home to collapse.

The Westerville Street Department, however, was in the middle of a major repair project at the intersection where I had to turn left to get home.  In consideration to daily traffic, they worked on that project only between 7 pm and 5 am.  On this night, when I needed to get home as quickly as possible, they would allow no turns at that intersection at all!  So, I went straight, as the policeman insisted, knowing that was not the way home!

I thought I knew where I was, but in the dark I couldn't read the street signs, and before I knew it, I was lost!  But before I hit downtown Columbus, I had the presence of mind to turn on the GPS, and that "know it all" lady directed me straight home!

He progressed well and and had amazingly little pain (because of the approach the surgeon had made for the surgery which did not require splitting the breast bone.)  So, on Saturday, two days after surgery he was moved out of ICU to a room in the cardiac step-down unit.  I stayed to see that he was well settled and then headed home.

My phone rang at 1:30 am, an ominous sound!  The nurse informed me that he had experienced a sudden and serious drop in blood pressure so they had moved him back to ICU.    About 2:15 am, the ICU supervisor called to report that Bruce's condition had stabilized and he was resting well so there was no reason for me to come to the hospital at that time.  I did not sleep much the rest of the night.

Next morning, Sunday, I was so groggy I could hardly find the alarm clock to turn it off!  However, I knew I wanted to get up and go to church so I could get the signatures of our friends there on a birthday card for Bruce who would turn 73 the following day.

I made it to church and actually stayed awake during worship!  I got a card-full of signatures and well wishes to deliver to Bruce on his birthday.  I left church, and just as I reached my car, my phone rang again.  Bruce's blood pressure had dropped suddenly and seriously again, but he was now stabilized.

I headed for the hospital immediately.  Force of habit took me to my usual route instead of a more direct but unfamiliar way.  But, as I exited the outer belt. the main street was totally blocked off with barriers, orange cones and police cars.!  Now what?  I followed the car in front of me looking for an alternate route.  Suddenly a big, angry-looking policeman was frantically motioning for me to stop.  I did, and he proceeded to shout at me for "trying to get around our roadblock."

I apologized, but added that I was looking for a way to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.  He calmed down, directed me back to the beltway and the first exit to the west to get to my destination.  Then he stopped traffic so I could get out of my predicament and on my way.  I got to the hospital a few minutes later and found Bruce sitting up in a lounge chair totally unaware that he was having any problem!

 When the staff realized that Monday was Bruce's birthday, they gifted him with a birthday balloon and a greeting card they had signed.  Another "gift" -- an un-birthday type -- was the result of observations of a skilled nurse.  She became concerned that he was still having so much trouble swallowing four days after surgery.  She insisted on a consult with a speech therapist who immediately scheduled him for a swallowing evaluation X-ray.

I went along down to radiology to watch the process as I had never seen it before.  It was interesting, and discouraging!  He took a small swallow of barium which outlined his throat and upper swallowing passageway.  Every time Bruce tried to swallow clear or thickened liquids, they would go down just a short distance and then hit some invisible "brick wall."  There they would lie, causing him to choke and cough.  He was immediately ordered to have "nothing by mouth" and alternative forms of nutrition were discussed.

Two days later the swallowing evaluation was repeated in hope that there had been improvement.  There was no change so, on Thursday, one week after his heart surgery, he had a feeding tube placed directly into his stomach.  Tube feedings were begun and we were both instructed in the technique.

He was kept in the hospital for two more days.  I was eager for him to come home but those extra days gave me time to arrange for all the supplies and equipment we would need: tube feeding solution and equipment to give it, dressings for the feeding tube site, portable suction machine to help him handle his secretions and saliva, getting prescriptions for medications filled, buying several gallons of distilled water to go with the tube feedings, getting a "pill crusher" so the medications could be given through the tube, and arranging for the services of a home health nurse (to draw blood to monitor his "blood thinner" medication level), and a speech therapist to work with him on strengthening his throat muscles.

Soon after he got home, we had to increase the number of his
"tube meals" because he was losing weight.  

We now check his weight daily and adjust the number of cans of "goodies" accordingly.  

Our schedule is controlled by his "meals" every 2 1/2 to 3 hours
and the visits of the home care professionals.

Christmas was spent quietly at home enjoying the company of our son for the day.  Dad watched as the other two of us enjoyed a modest "feast" for the occasion.

Bruce is gaining strength every day.  Whenever the weather is tolerable, he walks outside several times a day around our little condo community.  Against the advice of the speech therapist, he is tolerating small sips of water without choking or coughing (we think that's progress!).

And suddenly, it is the end of December and of 2015.  December has, indeed, been a month we'll remember.  We are so grateful for that new heart valve that we are making the best of all the surprises that have come with it.  For the most part, our spirits are good and our senses of humor intact.  But where did December go?  We can't remember -- but neither can we forget!