Tag: heart transplant

Getting My Sh!t Together.

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Waiting sucks. Waiting with very little information is even worse. A month ago when I had my appointment and was told that it was time to start moving forward with transplant preparations, I delayed that appointment. I could have avoided the wait,  I was offered an appointment only two weeks later. Obviously if I didn’t want to wait I could have taken that appointment and what is unknown now would be known already. The problem is I knew I wouldn’t be ready. I needed some time to feel all the feelings I was having and let them all have their shot to completely consume me, and over the last month they really have. I took the time I needed to process, to cope, and to work through all the feelings in a…get this…healthy way. PTSD is a helluva thing, part bodyguard, part magician, if you aren’t at least a little prepared for the trigger, it will throw up the defenses and let nothing and no one through at best, or abracadabra your consciousness completely out of there at worst.  I needed to get my shit together so that when the time came to walk into that room I had a shot in hell of remembering a word that came out of the doctor’s mouth.

Now here I am, feelings mostly processed (there are always going to be things that pop up and unexpected triggers here and there) ready to get rolling and I have another three weeks to wait before the most burning of my questions can be answered. As much as I have been working on feeling my feelings and coping with triggers I have been working on staying present and trying my best not to worry about the future (yeah right, do we understand what is looming out there?) and letting go of the need to control. I know I can’t control what happens next, how fast things move, or what kind of news I get. I know that. What I can do is take control of the things that are in my power, and so I am getting my shit together. 

A few weeks ago I asked my sisters for help. There is no way I could ever express how thankful I am for the way these two have always supported me through all my medical adventures and misadventures. They are my twin protectors, enough brain and brawn between them that there isn’t a need to assign either attribute to just one of them. They use both to help me make sure I am getting the best care, hearing my options, understanding them, and supporting me while they let me make the best choice I can. I know this process would swallow me up if I had to do it without either of them. 

As we chatted about the things to come and my worries, it was obvious that I was going to feel better the more that was finished, off my plate and I could say I didn’t have to worry about anymore. Being the furthest away and the biggest nerd my middle sister took on the job of what we like to call my personal CFO. She has built about a dozen spreadsheets of information that we will need going forward, making it easier every time I need them. Together we have figured out a lot of the what-if’s of my finances, filing for disability, and future medical coverage options. She has found resources for everything, and given me the option to fill in documents as I have the time and mental capacity to do so. Over the last month, we have completed almost every form I will need completed in the short term and it feels amazing. My older sister who lives closer, will be boots on the ground, ever the analytical thinker, she is the question asker, she thinks of things I never would have and is good at hearing and understanding answers even when I have peaced out of the conversation for mental preservation.

My mom historically has been the brain, the brawn and the comfort, through my medical procedures. Now that my sisters are involved I hope she feels the same relief that I do, and can enjoy being just the comfort for a while. Recently, a couple weeks after my sisters and I talked my mom came up and helped me get my house in order. Literally. I do a fair job of keeping my living environment clean and tidy, but there are larger cleaning projects that fall by the wayside due to my physical limitations. Having her come and help get those things done has helped me so much. It is so much easier to keep a home clean when you aren’t bummed out about the things you keep avoiding because you can’t do them. Talk about comfort, not only was our time together a recharge, it feels great to clean up a room and have it really feel clean. 

As this all unfolds all of our powers will combine and there is nothing that we won’t be able to get through. We have been training for this moment my whole life. It is go time. I may not know what this appointment or the next few years will bring, but I am organized and ready. For what feels like the first time in my life, I have my shit together.

What I Mean When I Say I’m Fine.

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What I mean when I say I’m fine. 

When I say I am fine, I mean that right now I am handling everything on my plate even if some of it feels like it is slipping to the edges. 

When I say I am fine, I mean that when I woke up this morning I was able to win the tug-of-war between staying in bed and starting my day. 

When I say I am fine, I mean that I can ignore the pain in my chest, and the way my head swims when I stand.  

When I say I am fine, I mean that I am taking care of myself, and protecting my energy, not that I don’t want you to bother me. 

When I say I am fine, I mean that I am doing the work, using my tools and keeping my mind right. 

When I say I am fine, I mean that I don’t care to talk about any of it right now, I have found my footing and I worry that talking about it will send me off balance again. 

When I say I am fine, I mean that I can’t stand to think about causing anyone to worry, so please believe me when I tell you that – I am fine. 

I am fine. I am okay. I am safe. (Is this a mantra I repeat to myself on the regular? Yes.) Depending on the day I am even doing pretty well considering. I feel like I am gaining a bit of stamina back for work, and it is becoming easier to make it through the week without feeling like my tank is completely empty. I have been slowly adjusting my mindset to accept my new baseline. A friend of mine who is a few years post transplant gave me that word, baseline. They expressed how much they hated the phrase “new normal” and I really feel that too. Nothing about this is normal. There is nothing normal with allowing yourself to slowly get sick enough to allow a team to take out your heart and give you someone else’s. I like the term baseline, and my baseline has changed and it will continue to change for a long while for the worse. I try not to think about that, I prefer to think about the time beyond that, when my baseline improves for the better. What a world that will be.

Mom and Me

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My mom came to visit this weekend. Sometimes you just need to see your mama before you can really, truly feel better. I haven’t seen my mom since before the bomb was dropped. Up until now, the only person in my family I have seen is my sister who was with me when I was told about the need for transplant evaluation. We were both in such a state of shock that not a lot of processing was done until well after we parted ways. It was good to see my mom, and take a bit of time to process together. To just be together.

When I was little and I had chest pain, or other heart issues, my mom would come and sit beside me on my bed and lay one hand over the left side of my chest and close her eyes. I could feel my heart beating against her hand, and she would count the beats, feel my breaths. She has done this for years. There is absolutely nothing scientific about this way of determining pulse or respiration, but I know it isn’t just me that feels better when my mama’s hand is on my heart and we can feel it beat together. I know that my heart slows down in those quiet moments, and with her hand on me, my body relaxes, my breath comes a bit easier, my mom is there and I can feel my heartbeat, and I am okay.

There is not a moment of this road I have walked without her, and we have both stumbled here and there but I know that – this heart or the next, my mom will be right there beside me, counting the beats and easing my fears.

Love you mama.

Straightening My Cape

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Tomorrow it will be two weeks since the news that is heart transplant barreled in to my life and brain with less ceremony than a Mack truck. The first week I was pretty numb, I spent a few days laying in my bed, on my couch, and on the floor of various rooms of my apartment just kind of zoning out. I wasn’t even really thinking about the news. I wasn’t really thinking at all. If my mind was a house, nobody was home. When feelings did come back, they did not take their time. I haven’t had a lot of practice catching grand pianos falling from the sky, which may be why I didn’t handle ALL THE FEELINGS very well when they came, they weren’t light or easy to hold on to. They came fast, zero to sixty, and they couldn’t seem to take turns. Anger, and sadness teamed up and caused the bizarre, dark kind of amusement that makes people laugh at funerals. Then I would think I had pulled myself together only to find myself completely defeated again. I felt more than a little unhinged.

Once the feelings were back the flashbacks and panic attacks arrived as well. It should come as no surprise to anyone, that (largely due to my medical background) I have a long and well documented history of PTSD. The way I have explained it is this – over the last several years of trauma informed therapy I have moved my tolerance for triggers further and further from the edge, it takes larger or more frequent triggers to really cause much of a disturbance. Something may knock me back a little but I am not very close to the edge so my emotions generally stay in check. This doctors appointment punted me back to within striking distance of the edge, and every physical symptom I have started causing tremendous distress and panic.

One night, as I was falling asleep, something about how quickly I was drifting off scared me and I shot awake and into a panic attack because to me it felt too similar to how it feels to drift under anesthetic. I was terrified. I did not want to go to sleep, lose time, wake up confused and in pain. It took me an hour to use my tools and convince myself that I was safe and that I was just going to sleep for the night not having surgery. You would think this is obvious but you would be wrong, you cannot reason with a panicked brain.

Things are improving. I will be moving to twice a week therapy for a while to get these triggers under control. I am communicating my feelings to the best of my ability and giving myself both permission to feel things and permission to take some time off from my hyper-vigilance.

Soon I will have a heart cath, and meet with the Advanced Heart Failure and Transplant team. My team, my mom and sisters will be with me. I am so thankful to have them and that they have worked to understand as much as they can about how I process things and not rush or push. I have done really great changing some eating habits and watching my water intake and retention. There are good things among the hard stuff. I am back at work and for the most part I am able to do what I have always done with a few tweaks and accommodations here and there. I am thankful for the kindness and understanding of my friends and co-workers. I am going to do my best to keep posting here, both for myself and for all of you who wish to follow along. This could be a very long road. I’m straightening my cape. It doesn’t make me super human or anything, but man does it make an outfit pop!