Timing is Everything

I'd always regarded naturopathic or holistic methods of healing good for others, but not for me. Not that I disagreed with it, but I watched my friends go that route, and frankly, watching them shove a handful of vitamins down their throat at every meal seemed like such a chore. It was expensive and time consuming with all the dietary changes. Too restrictive, I concluded. 
And then, my son got very ill, and his place of employment didn't provide medical insurance.
We visited several ERs within the year and the treatment was the same. No insurance? "Sure we have to treat you, but you'll get minimal care. We'll throw you some pain meds because that's what you want - everyone does, that's the real reason you're here. And you'll leave without answers, or solutions. And, oh, by the way, we will demand you pay us for our shoddy treatment. Have a nice day."

My mother bear instincts kicked in. On the internet I went. Let's give this naturopatic medicine a try. If we're going to pay out of pocket anyway, what have we got to lose. We found a possible clinic and took advantage of their 15 minute free consultation.
We found a fit. Treatments began and we saw improvement. But more important, we found people who really did care about my son and his well being. 

So now, here I am. A grim diagnosis - a grim treatment plan. "Sure we can fix you, but it might cost you your overall health and quality of life."
Naturopathic treatment would be out of pocket. Expensive. But the forecast was brighter. We'll help your body to heal while you heal. And even if you end up having to go the conventional way down the road, you'll be prepared for it physically. I made the call, took advantage of their 15 minute free consultation, chose a doctor and began baby steps towards recovery.  Along with the handful of vitamins and minerals I took everyday, and a major diet adjustment, I received what I consider a lifeline. I was given empowerment, and tools. Books to read about taking back my own health by my lifestyle, diet, attitudes, mindsets. I was directed to studies that the money backed political agenda groups don't provide. Research that is being conducted daily, small studies on small budgets showing that there are indeed other ways to cure cancer. Reports from real people with real health issues that show promise. Reports from doctors who have been shunned by their colleagues because they exposed the medical industry for what it can become when money is the prize.
I received all this along with hugs and encouragement, and staff who cared about little ol' me.

It seems though, when G~d shows up, so does the enemy. In spite of all my positive

progress, I still had melt down moments. Without warning, the "little black cloud" would materialize and I'd start to panic. "What if I'm not hearing from G~d after all. What if this treatment plan is causing more harm than good? 
Once again, I used my weapon of choice - my go to prayer - "Help!!!!
Next: Body, soul and spirit - the connection.

Five Pokes and a Puppy

My naturopathic doctor sat on the footstool next to my recliner. Her eyes registered compassion and sympathy. "I'm not going to poke you anymore," she said. My veins squealed their delight.
Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, I drive the 30 minute trek to have my IV infusion of healing juices. My body welcomes the fluid as it drips it's magic elixir to make me healthy and whole. But my veins see it in a different light. That tiny little needle and catheter have become harbingers of pain and my veins don't like pain. When we first began the IVs they were happy little tubes. "Sure," they said. "We're strong, courageous. Hit us with your best shot." But as of late, their tune has changed. Their itty-bitty sing-songy voices cry out, "nooooooo". They crawl away. They smush down into flat lines. Anything to avoid that pokey thing from invasion. They're smart little dudes.
So the dance goes like this: The needle approaches my arm or hand. I squeeze the little ball, my touchas rises from the chair - ever so slightly. The needle is in... But then... The veins roll and twist and flatten. Good grief, guys, my pain is over. Is yours now just beginning? Vein up, dudes! Granted, most days are better than this. On those, "Celebrate, celebrate, dance to the music," days, one poke is all it takes. I'm now free to watch a movie, take a nap, schmooze with others who are attached to a tube and pole...
But this day was a five poke day with zero results. 
Then, when I was about to pack up my toys and shuffle out, without my vein juice, a serendipity happened.

My sweet friend was finished with her treatment. Dr. Y mentioned something about taking her puppy and going home. Now we all know  the word, "puppy" is used for all sorts of things. But today, the word puppy was... a puppy. My friend reached over to the side of her chair and pulled out of a small, plastic travel case, a minuscule, no bigger than a minute ball of fluffyness. Now this was better than all the IVs in China. (Are IVs made in China like everything else?) My hand met her fuzzy head and we bonded. Then Dr Y took her and Elsa cuddled up in her lap for a sweet puppy nap. Two patients, one doctor, a puppy, and time to connect as sisters in a world where it's easy to speed by. What could be better?
I walked out of the office with five bruises and no treatment. I went home with peace, comfort, warmth in in my heart and a smile on my face. I think my healing journey was accomplished for the day.

Another Night, Another Interruption. Or, What's So Special About Sleep Anyway?

Recap: Hubster had a heart attack and a heart catherterization.

Ambulances have no shocks on their vehicle.

Time for dinner - real food! First a roast beef sandwich, and then sliced roast beef and mashed potatoes. The menu tag that comes on the tray said meatless spaghetti, salad and other heart healthy food. Someone slipped him the good stuff (or bad which ever way you look at it).
Now it was time to settle in for the evening. Procedure over, daughter there to visit, son and friend of Hubster next in line to come.
And then...

Hub decided to shake things up a bit.
 He crashed. Like almost on the floor. Like - call in the crash cart, crash.
 He'd gotten up and was sitting in a chair when the nurse came in alarmed. Really alarmed. His heart rate was monitored at the nurses station and  registered a big drop. He said he was lightheaded and before you know it began to slowly slump head first toward the floor. The nurse barked for our daughter and I to leave. Being the devoted wife who was darn scared at this point, said,  "I wanted to stay."
 "No, you need to leave." Alarmed Nurse said.
"I'm his wife." I reminded her.
 "We need the room to work." She glared at me. Good enough. Daughter and I left to stand outside the door, hands clasped, praying. And then doctors and nurses from all over the hospital began running in. The crash cart arrived. Lots of yelling his name. Lots of hospital noises. Lots of praying on our part.
Finally, a nurse or two walked out of the room. Their faces looked relieved. "Is he stabilizing?" I asked.
 "Yes."
Deep breath and thank G~ds.
Hubster only remembers feeling lightheaded, sitting in a wheelchair and then lying flat on the bed with an oxygen mask, people looking down at him and hooked up to his IV again with a full line of fluids pumping into his vein. Later we found the paddle pads on his chest. They were prepared to zap him if necessary.
The ER doctor, with sympathy in his voice, told us that it was a very benign thing that happened. His Visceral nerve acted up and caused him to faint. It can happen to anyone. But because of all the meds and such, Hubs heart rate dropped to 20 and his BP to 40. The dude almost lined out on us. Benign? I'd hate to have seen something sinister!
Hub's face began to change from gray to normal again and except for feeling pretty sheepish for all the drama, his vitals returned to where they were before the "incident", and he was back to his take it all in stride self. Our son and our friends came to visit. We all had a good laugh and life returned to normal...for a hospital.
Next time: Balloons and Stents.

Hospital Tours

To recap - the Hubster is in the hospital. Diagnosis - heart attack.
No food for you.
Thursday Chinese dinner was becoming a fleeting memory, but a necessary one. He would have to rely on memories of food and water because he was now in fast mode.
 He had IVs in both arms and various poke marks on the back of his hands from blood draws. He probably wouldn't have wanted to drink - leaking issues, don't you know.
Next step - a heart catherterization. His father had one back in the 80s. It was painful.
But, this was the way to see what was going on with his heart.
The hospital he was at was booked up for the procedure and they wanted it done sooner rather than later, so he'd be transported via ambulance to a hospital in another city - about 30 minutes away.
Oh boy, an ambulance ride!
The EMT team came in, made us all laugh with their banter, strapped him in and off he went. I followed by car.
Then I waited. That's hard. The waiting room was cold, no one answered the phone to the nurses station, so I would know what was happening. Did they take him in already? Was he waiting in the bay for his turn ? I pulled out my computer and worked on a project. No use trying to make something happen. I waited. And then, I tried the phone one more time. Sorry, but I'm not a good waiter when I don't have information to go on. The nurse, in a cheery voice told me to come on back. He was done with the procedure. I knew he would have a small amount of sedation, so I expected him to be out of it. But there he was, like nothing had happened, except two nurses were busy around him checking monitors and his wrist. This is where they snaked a thin wire up the artery, injected contrast dye and then watched where it went within the various arteries and veins in his heart.
He was having a good time chatting up the nurses. He mentioned that when they were ready to start the procedure, the tune that was playing over the sound system was, "Highway to Hell." The nurse, with a laugh, apologized and said it was a radio station - no control over the play list. The party was in the recovery bay. The doctor came in, said everything went as planned, a major artery was around 90-95% blocked and the next step would be to have a stent placed in the artery.
After everything checked out, his transport was called for the trip back to the first hospital. When they arrived, the party continued. The two EMT gals (young and cute), two nurses, myself and Hubster who was sitting on the side of the bed spent, oh, around twenty minutes chatting and laughing - like we'd met friends at a mall.
"Well, you ready to head back?" says one of the EMTs.
"Sure, why not, I'm not dressed for a night out on the town."
Back to Hotel Hospital Number One.
Next: Another Night, Another Interruption. Or, What's So Special About Sleep Anyway?

Have a Heart

Last Thursday the Hubster and I went to our favorite little dive for Chinese food. On the way home, the conversation went like this:
Hub - "So, what are your plans tonight."
Me - "Nothing. I'm gonna kick off my shoes and relax."
Hub - "What would you think about spending some time at ER?"
Okay, this is serious. He'd mentioned the previous Friday that his lungs ached and he figured it was a new form of heartburn. He'd just downed a few chicken hotdogs on bread for a snack. The following week he'd experienced a bit of the same thing off and on. Now on our way home, he said it was getting uncomfortable. He figured he'd dash in, get some antacid pills and be on his way.
Since the hospital is about a quarter mile from where we live, he had me drop him off while I drove home with the leftovers for the fridge. By the time I came back and parked - maybe around 15 minutes, he was already in a room with blood drawn for testing. He's been in ER twice before in the course of 5 years with pains in his chest, but this time he got the red carpet treatment. Maybe they looked at his face and knew this was serious. And this is the first time they did the blood test. Before, he had the standard EKG, and lots of questions. The last time, they kept him overnight for observation and a stress test and pronounced him healthy.
The blood test came back positive for a cardiac enzyme that says heart distress.
He was having a heart attack.
I made the mistake of asking the ER doctor if it was a minor heart attack. Bless his heart, he came around the bed, leaned over towards me and with his very serious doctor voice said, "ma'am, there is no such thing as a minor heart attack." He went on to say that they come in two styles, one can be detected by the external tests, stress, EKG - the ones that monitor the rhythims of the heart. The other, they call the silent ones. The heart looks normal on paper, beats normal and strong, but the arteries are not getting the blood they need. He said these are the deadly ones.
So, we figured that the other 2 times we went to the ER, Hubster's heart was telling him, "hey we have issues here - just giving you the heads-up." But they didn't test his blood for the enzyme.
By midnight, he was shipped to telemetry for a possible heart catheterization.
I left around 2:30AM and returned at 7:30AM to see what the new day held.
Next time - Hospital Tours.