Day 3932: Double vision

Yesterday, after getting a great great hair cut in the morning and revisiting an incredible incredible local take-out Asian restaurant which was recommended by Bon Appetit magazine (Bon Appetit magazine!), I had a brief brief but scary (and unprecedented) bout of double vision while I was driving home to eat the delicious delicious food.

When I got home and after I finished my wonderful wonderful HK French toast from Rubato, I looked up “double vision” online.

“Phew! Phew!” I thought. “Looks like I don’t have to go to the emergency room (ER) because my double vision went away in 7 minutes and I didn’t have any of those other symptoms.” However, because I have complicated complicated heart issues, which resulted in my having a Transient Ischaemic Attack (T.I.A.) a year ago when I was on vacation in Georgia, I googled “double vision TIA” and found this:

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Oh no! Oh no! Double vision was on the short list of T.I.A symptoms.

The last last thing I wanted to do on a Saturday was call my hospital and ask about double vision, but I did. After talking to many many people on the phone including a nurse and (finally finally) a doctor, I was told to go to the Emergency Room immediately immediately because of my episode of double vision. As I was preparing to go go to the ER, my beloved beloved husband Michael said, “Do you want me to go with you?”

I had a vision of spending hours hours at the Emergency Room dealing with nurses nurses doctors doctors and tests tests, unsure whether to subject Michael again to the realities realities of being in an ER. After seconds seconds of deliberation, I said, “Yes. Yes. Thanks, Michael, thanks.”

When we got to the Emergency Room I was surprised surprised that there was no no waiting as doctors doctors descended and whisked me away to get a CAT scan (which unfortunately does not entail an actual cat).

A nice nice neurologist did many many tests on me including showing me pictures I had to identify, including two (two!) cactuses. When I called them “cacti” she said, “Now you’re just showing off.”

After the CAT scan, the cacti, and many many other neurological tests, there was waiting waiting as doctors doctors and nurses nurses gave us updates updates about my short short bout of double vision.

Good good news: The CAT scan showed no evidence of a TIA. Yay! Yay!

Strange strange news: My INR blood result was a totally unexpected and low 2.54. 2.54. I couldn’t believe it. That meant I now have to give myself two (two!) injections every day until I get two (two!) readings between 3.0 and 3.5.

2.54. 2.54. It didn’t make sense! 2.54 kept repeating in my brain as Michael and I waited waited, expecting that we could go home soon soon. We were told that a second neurologist would come by soon soon to clear me to leave, so we could feed our 2 (2!) cats and get some dinner.

We waited waited. No no neurologist showed up. I did something I have never never done before: I told a doctor I was thinking of leaving AMA (Against Medical Advice) because no no neurologist was showing up and I was hungry hungry and confused confused about why we were still in the Emergency Room after hours hours hours hours and no no evidence of a T.I.A.

The doctor explained that one of the two (two!) radiologists who had looked at the CAT scan saw an abnormality (abnormality?) and they were waiting waiting for a neurologist to say that the abnormality was within normal normal range.

Another hour hour went by. No no neurologist. Why why? we were asking. A neurologist is looking at the CAT scan, we were told. Waiting waiting. The neurologist is consulting with a neurosurgeon. Waiting waiting. What were they seeing on that damn damn CAT scan?

The doctor came in with some info and a question: “The abnormality is near the nasal cavity. Do you have nosebleeds?” That’s when I realized that the CAT scan did involve an actual cat. I told the doctor that two (two!) years ago our cat Joan scratched me inside my nose which resulted in nosebleeds nosebleeds which were very very impressive and had landed me in the same same Emergency Room. Hoping hoping that info would result in our going home soon soon, we waited waited.

No no neurologist. Why can’t we leave? Why can’t we leave? we asked each other and the doctor. The doctor told us that the concern was that Joan’s scratch may have caused an AVM (an AVM!) in my brain that would need to be treated.

I asked, why why didn’t this cat-related problem show up on the CAT scan I got in Georgia when I had my first TIA a year ago? The doctor said that the reading was subtle subtle and that was why one radiologist was concerned and another one wasn’t. So they still needed clearance from a neurologist to let me go go home.

Michael distracted distracted himself by taking walks outside and encountering resistance resistance from the security guard in the ER whenever he tried to get back in. (“Who are you?” “Who are you here with?” “Who are you?” Who are you here with?”) I distracted distracted myself by asking about favorite flowers on Twitter (Twitter!).

Finally finally, after hours hours of more waiting waiting, we told a nurse we’re sorry sorry but if no neurologist shows up by 11 o’clock, we’re leaving leaving. She said, “I totally understand and I’ll tell the doctor.”

After minutes minutes of more waiting waiting, the doctor walked in and said, “We heard from the neurosurgeon. He said you are okay and good to go.”

Everybody said they were happy happy and sorry sorry about the waiting waiting as we finally finally left the Emergency Room after hours hours hours hours hours hours of waiting waiting to go go home.

No no dinner for us but two (two!) happy cats when we got home and fed them. If Joan had complained complained I might have told her the part she played in everyone waiting waiting for us to to get home.

After all this waiting waiting, here are the rest of my images for this double vision post.

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Here’s the song I keep hearing in my normal (normal!) brain:

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Thanks thanks to Michael, Rubato, the kind kind medical people we encountered yesterday, Foreigner, everyone who loves flowers, and all those who help me with my vision vision every day, including YOU!

Day 3922: Slow Down

Because my mind speeds from one thought to the next, from problems to more problems to possible solutions, from memories of the past to projections into the future, it helps me to slow down.

When I slow down, I can let go of that panicky feeling that I have to act RIGHT NOW to head off negative consequences.

With my extremely rare heart condition (which makes my heart slow down to dangerous levels if I don’t have an implanted cardiac device), I have to slow down on hills and stairs, and I don’t like that. Also, it’s difficult for me to slow down because I’ve always believed I have limited time on this earth. Indeed, earlier this week I started writing a song called “Assuming I’m Going to Die Soon” (which might slow down the sales of my album).

Assuming I’m going to die soon
Makes me want to finish this tune.
It makes me want to do everything 
I ever wanted to do, 
And not waste time 
Because it’s a crime
If you die leaving things
That you still want to do.  

©️ Ann Koplow, 2023

I need to slow down and think about more lyrics for that song.

Because the overload of pictures and words on my phone caused a slow down and a stop of my photos loading for yesterday’s blog post, I have twice as many images to share with you today, so I hope you can slow down and enjoy them.

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“Slow Down” makes me think of this song:

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Slow down and take in my gratitude for you!

Day 3917: Empathy

Yesterday, on my way to see my cardiologist/electrophysiologist Dr. Peter Zimetbaum (who has demonstrated reassuring empathy), I saw this:

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Do you see empathy in my other images floating in space today?

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Here’s what I find when I look for empathy on YouTube:

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Thanks to all who have empathy, including YOU.

Day 3913: Happy mediums

For the last few weeks, I’ve been writing a song — “I Don’t Wanna Be Late (Don’t Wanna Be Early Either)” — which is about maintaining happy mediums.

As I’ve realized how many happy mediums we struggle to maintain, I’ve added verse after verse, until the song is now over 13 minutes long.

I assume that people don’t wanna listen to a song that’s too long (or too short), but this morning I’ve written a new verse about my needing to maintain a different happy medium. I won’t record this verse but I will share it with you:

My INR can’t be low. It can’t be too high either.

As all my doctors know, to survive I have to be neither.

What’s so bad if my INR’s too low?

Strokes and a clogged mechanical heart valve, Bro.

What’s so bad if the INR’s high?

Over-bleeding, I might be needing to say goodbye.

A year ago, my INR was too low and I had a mini-stroke. Since then, I’ve been working hard to maintain happy mediums for my INR (above 2.7) until this unexpected reading on Sunday:

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No one was happy about this and to regain a happy medium, I’ve injected myself with something called Lovenox, stopped eating greens, and upped my dosage of Coumadin. But we don’t want me to go too high, either, so I’ll be retesting myself this morning.

In the meantime, do you see happy mediums in the rest of my images for today?

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I need to get ready to retest my INR, hoping that nobody has to take me to a doctor today. If the INR is not a happy medium, I’ll be talking like a pirate (“Arrrrggghhhh!”)

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Arrrgghh! Now it’s too high. (It’s suppose to be below 3.5). As some of us suspected, Sunday’s too-low reading was false one. (That’s the first time I’ve experienced that with my home monitor.) I’m happy that I challenged my doctor’s initial plan for me to inject myself twice a day and wait to retest until Friday. And happy that I’m well on my way to restoring my happy medium.

Here’s what I find on YouTube when I search for “happy mediums.”

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Thanks to all who do their best to maintain happy mediums, including YOU!

Day 3671: Knowledge

Today’s Daily Bitch Calendar reminds me of sayings about knowledge like “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing” and “ignorance is bliss.”

I do know what I’m talking about when it comes to living your whole life with a rare heart condition, and it hasn’t always been easy. Yesterday, when I went for an echocardiogram, I was uneasy with the knowledge that the September echo I had in Georgia (when I had a T.I.A. or a “mini-stroke) had indicated there was “severe regurgitation” from my mechanical valve. My long-time cardiologist, Dr. Deeb Salem (who has lots of knowledge), told me that might mean the valve needed to be replaced or that a clot, since dissolved, might have caused temporary regurgitation.

Yesterday I made sure the echocardiogram sonographer had the knowledge about that earlier echo. Based on my experience in medical systems, I had the knowledge that she couldn’t really tell me the results yesterday. I knew I wouldn’t receive the official knowledge of whether or not I needed a new valve and another open heart surgery until later, after somebody with more knowledge had interpreted and documented the results. However, I really wanted reassuring knowledge yesterday after holding this scary knowledge for a while, so while watching and listening to her perform the echo and not having the knowledge to interpret the results as they were happening, I carefully said this: “What would it look like if there were severe regurgitation around a mechanical valve?” and I got the knowledge I wanted when she replied, “Not like what we’re seeing here.”

That knowledge made me very, very happy.

What knowledge is there in my other images for today?

I’m definitely going to celebrate today (with popcorn) my latest good news and the knowledge that I’ve really beaten the odds of life expectancy for my heart condition. When I see Dr. Salem next month, I’m going to ask him what it was like to be my doctor, starting when I was 27, having knowledge like this (which I just found when I googled my heart condition):

Dr. Salem, in all our years of working together, never conveyed that knowledge to me and here I am, about to turn 70! Also, I have the knowledge that some people with CCTGA have made it into their 90s and why shouldn’t I be one of those?

Here’s what I find when I look for “knowledge” on YouTube.

Thanks to all who help me share knowledge through these daily posts, including YOU!

Day 3589: Hideaway

I’ve been spending many hours thinking about how to remodel our upstairs shower, because I want that to be a hideaway.

I don’t want to hide away why that’s so important to me: When I was a child spending too much time alone in the hospital, the private bathroom with a tub, at the end of the long hallway, was really my only hideaway. The rest of the time, I was under the eyes of doctors and nurses, hooked up to a cardiac monitor that beeped out my unusual heartbeat, day and night.

Years ago in therapy, I gave myself the healing assignment of drawing a floor plan of that Children’s Hospital cardiac unit, and the room with the tub stood out as a precious and safe hideaway.

I’m also thinking of how Jerry Seinfeld described the shower as a hideaway:

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Do you see any hideaways in my images for today?

It’s such an amazing coincidence that I’m writing about hideaways on National Hermit Day!

Here’s “Hideaway” by the incredible Jacob Collier:

I can’t hide away my gratitude for all who help me share these daily posts, including YOU.

Day 3573: That must have been scary

When I tell people about my experiences in the hospital when I was young, they often say, “That must have been scary.”

That must have been scary, I agree. However, I don’t remember being scared. I was so focused on trying to understand what was going on, connecting with others, and surviving the frequent hospitalizations and surgeries for my heart condition that I must have been disconnected from the fear.

I appreciate people saying, “That must have been scary.” That demonstrates empathy and allows me to acknowledge what I’ve been through. I may wish that people had said “that must have been scary” to me back then, but that must have been scary for them to do.

This morning, I woke up thinking about the phrase “that must have been scary” and decided to reframe that to “that must have been necessary.” Somehow, that makes things less scary for me, here and now.

Do you see anything that must have been scary or necessary in my images for today?

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Learning something new, screenings, and breast exams: all scary AND necessary.

Here’s what I find on YouTube when I search for “that must have been scary.”

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If you think that must have been scary searching through the videos that popped up for me on YouTube, you are correct. However, it was necessary for me to finish this blog post.

Thanks to all who help me deal with things that must have been scary, including YOU.

Day 3554: Trying to make sense of things

Here and now, I’m trying to make sense of things, including:

• Why my INR level dipped dangerously low yesterday,
• Why I thought to check my INR earlier than usual (thank goodness),
• How it was so difficult to get the shots I needed to protect myself from having such a low INR from my local pharmacy,
• Why I’m doing a better job administering those shots than some trained professionals did last week at a Georgia hospital when my INR was also dangerously low,
• Why some people that I reach out to take so long getting back to me,
• Why the repair of our upstairs bathroom is taking so long,
• Why some days have so many National Day observances and other have so few,
• Why so many people in the USA don’t exercise their right to vote,
• Why so many people get fooled by toxic narcissists, and
• How I continue to remain sane through all of this.

Yesterday, my dear friend Carol and I discussed how trying to make sense of things can lead to magical thinking.

For example, I’ve been trying to make sense of the unexpected and scary medical things I’ve been dealing with lately by magically thinking they might be the the result of:

• my unexpectedly being reassured by a new cardiologist this month that my very unusual heart was serving me very well and should keep me alive for many years to come,
• my not observing the Jewish High Holidays,
• my boldly and confidently sharing my original song “Everybody‘s Somebody’s Asshole” with total strangers in Georgia and getting a delighted reaction, and
• being “too” confident in general.

I’m wondering how you are trying to make sense of things (including this blog post) right now.

Please join me in trying to make sense of my images for today.

Thanks to the National Days website, now I’m making sense of National Seat Check Saturday.

Here’s what I find on YouTube when I search for “trying to make sense of things.”

Gratitude always helps me make sense of things, so thanks to those who visit this daily blog, including YOU!

Day 3544: Never seen

Before this vacation, I’d never seen

• the islands off the southeastern coast of Georgia,
• the inside of a brain CT scan machine, and
• the inside of a Georgia hospital.

You’ve never seen anybody as happy as I’ll be when I get out of this hospital and rejoin my vacation tour of the Georgia islands, which MIGHT be today.

Here are some images I assume you’ve never seen:

I’ve actually never seen the world through another’s eyes but I try to do that, every day.

Here’s what I find on YouTube when I search for “never seen.”

I’ve never seen Limoblaze before, but I’m very glad to see that video today.

You’ve most likely seen gratitude from me before, but you’ve never seen this particular image of thanks:

Day 3543: What does T.I.A. stand for?

This Is Ann, Telling It As it is on a Tuesday In A hospital room, Thankful I’m Alive.

T.I.A. stands for Transient Ischemic Attack. The Incredible And Thorough Investigators At This Institution Are Thinking I, Ann, had a T.I.A. yesterday.

Terrifying Incident, Actually, That Included All The Indications of A stroke. This Is Absolutely not how This Individual Anticipated spending her vacation.

These Images Are what This Insomniac Accumulated yesterday:

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This Is A T.I.A. video on youTube, I Assume:

Thanks In Admiration to Those Intrepidly Assisting yesterday — my Terrifically Intelligent Amiga Deb, the Emergency responders on Jekyll Island, the staff at this wonderful Georgia hospital, my Boston cardiologist Deeb Salem (who called in response to my email and talked to the doctor here) — and to Those I Adore (That Includes All of you!)