May 12: The reality of a 'day off'
Self satisfaction and resulting glow after last blog remained for a couple weeks. It's not possible, however, to stay in happy perky bunnyland for too long before reality knocks me down a couple pegs.
So, still working 5 days a week. The days that are not my usual clinical/testing days are spent doing the EMRs. Fortunately I have wiggle room there, don't go in for more than 4-5 hours, so can sleep in or maybe run a couple errands. But, of course, it means less energy. So other things get pushed aside, or ignored all together.
This week I worked every day, only did charts on Tuesday since it was my week to normally work Friday. It was with great excitement that I realized early in the week that Saturday (today) was totally clear, except for needing a quick visit to the Farmer's Market in the morning. Multiple thoughts rushed through my head, people I'd like to visit and spend time with. I called a couple people, but their schedules didn't have the same time open. And as the week went on I realized that it probably wasn't a good idea to plan much, because there plenty to do at home and my energy level was rapidly decreasing.
Wednesday was a full day, stayed another hour to do EMR. Thursday was a bit easier, but then had a gyn appointment for follow-up, then for my yoga class, so pretty tired. Friday we started out with 8 stress tests scheduled, but as the day went on that number increased to 13, which is a lot. Especially since the older MA who is my tech on Friday doesn't move as quickly or efficiently as my wonderful Natalie, so I have to do more in order to keep things moving. Snapped at the receptionist, which isn't like me. Instead of cutting me a break, however, she remained huffy and largely unhelpful the rest of the day. Didn't finish my morning coffee until after 1:00 pm, ate lunch about 1:30, never stopped working except for 3 minutes to order flowers for Mother's day. Surprisingly, we finished patients about 4:30, although paperwork took me longer.
I popped the pulse ox on my finger out of curiosity as the last patient finished. For those of you who aren't familiar with this, it's a neat little gizmo that you put your finger into and it magically reads the amount of oxygen in your bloodstream. Most people normally run 99-100%. When I'm feeling well, I run 98%, when not feeling well it's down to about 94-95%. While my echo, done just about 10 days ago, was reportedly great, I've found that there is an objective correlation to how I feel and my pulse ox number, which is not explained by the echo looking so good. The cardiologist has no good reason for this, just shrugs his shoulders. Anyway, put it on and it registered 94%, then went to 93%, then 92%, then 91%, at which point I'd seen enough and pulled it off. For some reason, even to myself, it reassures me that I'm not exaggerating about not feeling well. The MA observed the number and suggested putting myself on oxygen (in the hospital the norm for starting oxygen at ~94%), but I knew it wasn't as simple as that. There is nothing else to do but get to the couch for several hours, because the numbers are merely the symptom, not the cause of whatever is going on.
My plan had been to get up to Small Group at Fellowship, which I haven't made in several months. I yearned for social contact that was not just utilitarian. But with a pulse ox of 91% it was clear that wasn't an option.
I slept in this morning, waking to absolutely gorgeous weather and feeling better. As I've been increasing my walking it made sense to walk down to the Market, which measures almost a mile, after which I checked out the Scottish Festival briefly, a block my walk would take me past in any case. On the way back home, however, I started to get more tired and out of breath. OK, so I slow down, stop a few times, deep breathing. Almost immediately on reaching the house it's to the swing on the back patio to start the last Hunger Games book, getting some sunshine and vitamin D exposure on my legs. But after almost two hours I still wasn't feeling great, and then the nausea started.
For those of you who have been reading for a while, you recognize that when the fatigue progresses to nausea it's not a good sign. So, despite the fact that my house is a total mess, cat hair all over everything, the kitchen disgusting, total disorganization piled up over the fairly large kitchen table....none of this is going to be coped with. There are a few things that can't be put off. Needed to fill kitty litter containers, the bed sheets are way overdue to be changed. Mattress cover bad enough that even it has to be washed. So everything gets prioritized, and then only thing to be done is more couch time. For some reason changing my bed is still very difficult and requires four rounds with rests in between over a period of hours to get finished.
It's a little frustrating, and there really isn't anyone who can help. I'm willing to pay someone to do a good cleaning, but right now things are just so messy that it couldn't be cleaned without extensive picking up first. But that takes time and energy.
So, I'm resting now, again. All the things that really should be done remain where they are. Maybe before the light dies I can do a quick vacuuming to get the worst of the cat hair up, but won't be nearly as productive as my earlier goals had been planned.
I'm not upset, not mad, not even pissed. I can't even really be frustrated, because my body is allowing me to work more hours, but the sacrifice is the energy that would be used to take care of practical stuff. The reason I'm giving you all the details, however, is to acknowledge the practical application of the decisions and weighing of priorities that come with having a chronic, although improved, illness.
So, mattress cover in dryer, then to the couch! Laurie
So, still working 5 days a week. The days that are not my usual clinical/testing days are spent doing the EMRs. Fortunately I have wiggle room there, don't go in for more than 4-5 hours, so can sleep in or maybe run a couple errands. But, of course, it means less energy. So other things get pushed aside, or ignored all together.
This week I worked every day, only did charts on Tuesday since it was my week to normally work Friday. It was with great excitement that I realized early in the week that Saturday (today) was totally clear, except for needing a quick visit to the Farmer's Market in the morning. Multiple thoughts rushed through my head, people I'd like to visit and spend time with. I called a couple people, but their schedules didn't have the same time open. And as the week went on I realized that it probably wasn't a good idea to plan much, because there plenty to do at home and my energy level was rapidly decreasing.
Wednesday was a full day, stayed another hour to do EMR. Thursday was a bit easier, but then had a gyn appointment for follow-up, then for my yoga class, so pretty tired. Friday we started out with 8 stress tests scheduled, but as the day went on that number increased to 13, which is a lot. Especially since the older MA who is my tech on Friday doesn't move as quickly or efficiently as my wonderful Natalie, so I have to do more in order to keep things moving. Snapped at the receptionist, which isn't like me. Instead of cutting me a break, however, she remained huffy and largely unhelpful the rest of the day. Didn't finish my morning coffee until after 1:00 pm, ate lunch about 1:30, never stopped working except for 3 minutes to order flowers for Mother's day. Surprisingly, we finished patients about 4:30, although paperwork took me longer.
I popped the pulse ox on my finger out of curiosity as the last patient finished. For those of you who aren't familiar with this, it's a neat little gizmo that you put your finger into and it magically reads the amount of oxygen in your bloodstream. Most people normally run 99-100%. When I'm feeling well, I run 98%, when not feeling well it's down to about 94-95%. While my echo, done just about 10 days ago, was reportedly great, I've found that there is an objective correlation to how I feel and my pulse ox number, which is not explained by the echo looking so good. The cardiologist has no good reason for this, just shrugs his shoulders. Anyway, put it on and it registered 94%, then went to 93%, then 92%, then 91%, at which point I'd seen enough and pulled it off. For some reason, even to myself, it reassures me that I'm not exaggerating about not feeling well. The MA observed the number and suggested putting myself on oxygen (in the hospital the norm for starting oxygen at ~94%), but I knew it wasn't as simple as that. There is nothing else to do but get to the couch for several hours, because the numbers are merely the symptom, not the cause of whatever is going on.
My plan had been to get up to Small Group at Fellowship, which I haven't made in several months. I yearned for social contact that was not just utilitarian. But with a pulse ox of 91% it was clear that wasn't an option.
I slept in this morning, waking to absolutely gorgeous weather and feeling better. As I've been increasing my walking it made sense to walk down to the Market, which measures almost a mile, after which I checked out the Scottish Festival briefly, a block my walk would take me past in any case. On the way back home, however, I started to get more tired and out of breath. OK, so I slow down, stop a few times, deep breathing. Almost immediately on reaching the house it's to the swing on the back patio to start the last Hunger Games book, getting some sunshine and vitamin D exposure on my legs. But after almost two hours I still wasn't feeling great, and then the nausea started.
For those of you who have been reading for a while, you recognize that when the fatigue progresses to nausea it's not a good sign. So, despite the fact that my house is a total mess, cat hair all over everything, the kitchen disgusting, total disorganization piled up over the fairly large kitchen table....none of this is going to be coped with. There are a few things that can't be put off. Needed to fill kitty litter containers, the bed sheets are way overdue to be changed. Mattress cover bad enough that even it has to be washed. So everything gets prioritized, and then only thing to be done is more couch time. For some reason changing my bed is still very difficult and requires four rounds with rests in between over a period of hours to get finished.
It's a little frustrating, and there really isn't anyone who can help. I'm willing to pay someone to do a good cleaning, but right now things are just so messy that it couldn't be cleaned without extensive picking up first. But that takes time and energy.
So, I'm resting now, again. All the things that really should be done remain where they are. Maybe before the light dies I can do a quick vacuuming to get the worst of the cat hair up, but won't be nearly as productive as my earlier goals had been planned.
I'm not upset, not mad, not even pissed. I can't even really be frustrated, because my body is allowing me to work more hours, but the sacrifice is the energy that would be used to take care of practical stuff. The reason I'm giving you all the details, however, is to acknowledge the practical application of the decisions and weighing of priorities that come with having a chronic, although improved, illness.
So, mattress cover in dryer, then to the couch! Laurie
posted by Laurie @ 4:06 PM
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