Back in the Saddle @okcorral

Returned to the OK Corral in early October. Hence maybe why I went dark on you. 

Many o comments to ease back into it. Or just delay and keeping lounging. It being work, life, et al. Lest my husband knows me well. He knew when I needed a nudge, push or kick in the pants. One of the reasons I married him. He was - shall we say supportive - that I get back to work sooner than later.

The Intern. At Work. 

So in the ETERNAL words of RuPaul: You gotta wrrrrrrk!!! 

Many a friend asked me how work was being about the whole shindig. In a word, Amazeballs. But I knew that was going to be the case. When I went on maternity leave with Nelson, the impression on return was a great big hug. And the return was : Big Hug, The Sequel.

I am quite aware most workplaces don't feel this way. And quite frankly,  ever day ain't like that. It's called work for a reason, right? But when u step back and say 30% of a day is at work; and the most important ingredient is WHO you work with, when there. Do we fight for what we believe in like cats and dogs from staffing to comma placement and line breaks to image choices? You bet. Passionate and creative. Do we fight over stoopid Shit too? You bet. That's like family. That's why the hugs feel so good.

First two weeks back were just lots of big love. Just mellow chit chat, catch up. Energy level high. Chest nerve pain present but manageable and then subsided. I was so happy. Next few weeks, folks realize you are back. Start to ask questions like you have answers.  Oh hardy har har. Getting tired easily. Running off of stored up reserves of rest. And then by Halloween week even Tsunami Tommy admitted I had officially over did it. Oops. At least he was paying attention. 

The Intern. At Rest.

Then the reality sets in. You stepped off your super highway and now you are merely an observer on the shoulder watching it pass by. How did you do that before? Do you want to step back on the conveyer belt? The Ah-Ha from a couple posts previous stays as-is. As in, same A Train, same values. But keep our lifestyle choices the same? Not so sure.  Example: getting out the door "on time" in the morning or dashing to get your kids for pick up = stress. Then I heard this quote which clicked it together: it's not work life balance. It's life balance. Good one, eh? 

And then I realized I am being a bit hard on myself. I actually thought of you, my beloved, devoted readers. You'd seriously remind me I had heart surgery four months ago. The concept of getting my blood tested weekly and tweaking meds and my diet weekly is having a small eroding effect so I can't fully move forward. I thought I was supposed to be recovered by month three. Oops again.  

 

Girl Talk. Boys Beware!

Boys beware of this post. Read on at your on risk. Spoiler Alert ---> Topic: Scarification.

Oh yes, I am going there.

There is a pretty rad and long scar down the center of my cleavage. Let's get real. I know my breast cancer warriors out there are feeling me. I am pumping my fist like I am at a rave in the 90s with heavy bass right now. Let's go. Let's talk about it. The Ta-Ta's. The Grrrrls. The Cleave. Tits. Breastages.

My absolute favorite pre-op comment came the day before the surgery from Brit sass Laura who reacted to my very intentional pre photo stating simply: cracking tit shot! I agree thank you. I am a woman who is (was?) blessed in this area. And we're here to talk about today if this is past statement or a present day statement. Am I still blessed on top?

I can imagine the breast cancer survivor and other surgical veteran friends and family have dealt - and dealing with - far far more difficult infractions on their bodies, minds and souls. So on my best days, I look at this new friend on me as a rad momento, compared to the journeys of others. And on the other days this is how my mind unfolds...

Post-op, my husband has told me it really isn't too bad. Some agreement. I have heard a lot this (scar) will fade to white. Fine. Fine. Fine. Right now, turning a little bit more pink/red than what was in this post op pic. Lots o remedies on topical ointments and creams to start slathering to get it to fade faster. Ok. Ok. Ok.  In the mean time, Scar-ie and I are looking at each other day by day. This bitch goes from peaking out the top of my shirts to the bottom of my cleave. So it is far from a full "zipper." (Full Zipper = Neck to belly button.)  No staples. Just was glued together. (When Julie Robert's said in the latest September InStyle she holds her life together with a little spit and glue, I can now relate.) The cherry on top, is the chest tube scar no one bothered to mention to me, is one inch below where the cleave scar ends.

I have not changed my wardrobe to cover it up. I've seen folks looking between the open buttons of my blouses to little kids fully staring. Mainly adult's eyes flutter down and this look up reassuring or bashfully because they realize they are being watched just as much as they are watching me. It is completely natural to be distracted by something that does not appear to be correct in your habitat. I have no blame or shame or shade for any lookers, glancers or starers. It used to be tho, they stared b/c my tits and/or cleavage were magical magnets of sudection. Yes they were.

Previously, I kept them covered the vast majority of the time. This new ditty is just popping out. I asked the hubs (husband) what he thought. In classic form, without missing a beat, he shot back that I need to say: what are you lookin' at? Eyes up! (In a semi-DeNiro inflection of tone or semi-Pacino Midnight Cowboy tone a la, hey I'm walking' here! ) He is right. Granted I am guilty participant of this new oversharing culture. This blog is evidence numero uno. But this is slightly differebt as its eyes on, face to face, right. So, no show here, keep walking.

My lingering hanging Chad comes from easing back into wearing undergarments, Over the shoulder bolder holders, brazier (sp?), aka Bras. The rib cage in front, directly under the left tit, feels like we have some nerve damage or nerve pinch or muscle tear. Of course this is exactly where the bra hugs the girlfriends. 40+ = you do not go without proper support because your two kids already sucked the life out of said tissue masses. I imagine you can easily look like a National geographic feature quickly if you shrug at proper support at this stage of life. Cami's "shelf bra" has never been suficent support but I've certainly tried it lately. Doesn't do much or even Comanodo to relieve the issue.

So, what's this crunchy gal gonna do? Started with an acupuncturist as Dr's just shrug and say they don't know what it is or how to help. Just part of the healing process. On one hand i say, my ass; that is a non answer. On the other, i take this as there had to be some type of jab at me consciously, to remind me I had open heart surgery 7 weeks ago. Lest I get too comfortable. Return to normality too quick.  No no no. Don't do that, damnit.

Alrighty then. I think I've exhausted this topic. Ta Ta for now!

 

A Ha. Not the band.

There are no huge a-ha moments of this experience, e.g. I need to exercise more, I need to spend more time with the kids, this is my wake up call, life is too precious, you only live once, focus on the happy, blah blah blah. I am proud there are no a-ha moments. Instead of a single epiphany, this journey is serving as confirmation that fuels me with confidence. Confirmation that my path is good, and all that informs it is good, as-is.

Like wow. I love that and this feeling. No major shake ups needed. Continue to follow my instincts. If anything they have crystalized my goals. It was the push to say, yep, that voice inside is right and push away doubt, push away noise.

Side note. Being 40+ rocks. I finally found peace after years of intense insecurity. The last few years I've been looking at how I was subconsciously unhappy. Pretty stunning stuff to navel gaze about, when time permits.

And for those who are like oh no, now she will really be impossible; now she is more emboldened than ever. I say this to you: Eat it. Or: Suck it. Your preference.

This concludes your Oprah moment today. That is all.

All Pozzie Baby

Annie is looking around the doctor's exam room, "Is there a clock in here?"  "Ah, no." Dr. Kim response with a laugh,"That's your heart!" Patient shrugs shoulders and sighs out loud. 

And that was the extent of negativity at my six week follow up visit yesterday. It was all pozzie, baby! (Pozzie is Libby's newest word; slang for positive. This is the same woman who also gave you poopalacha; slang for negative. But I digress.)

The headline is that I won't be going back till next year. ONE YEAR. As in scram kid, don't wanna hear from ya. Fine, fine, fine with me. Some of my favorite quotes/moments from the appointment:

"Isn't that beautiful?" Surgeon reference to my EKG. 

"You look so great." 

"Oh, that's so nice. I showered today. And brushed my hair."

But by the 5th to 10th mention of "you look so great," I just am beaming proudly at their gushing. 

"You'll be graduating to the normal echo lab now. You are no longer a congenital patient."

Meaning the defect I was born with, is now gone baby gone.

"Its so quiet in there now. Wow." Cardiologist reference to my heart beat through a stethoscope. "It used to be SO loud. All the blood through that tiny hole." 

My own experience in the echo lab shook me. I was laying quietly on my side and the stereo speakers of the ultrasound machine blasted my heartbeat against the walls. My new heartbeat. Listening to it the first time. Made me wanna cry. No. Don't cry. Getting teary eyed all over again now. It's just so beautiful. It's no longer LUB DUB SWISH. LUB DUB SWISH. (Swish was the regurgitation of blood flowing backwards through the valve b/c the flaps didn't close properly aka leaky valve.) It's simply, LUB DUB. LUB DUB. LUB DUB. It's so clean. It's so quiet. It was one of the best moments of my life. 

I waited till I was in the elevator, finally on the bottom floor of the parking lot, by myself and just cried. The tears were quiet too. There have been surprising very little tears on the whole journey since we boarded this train. There were plenty of fearful tears on the platform, back in Feb/March but come September, this was joy.  

Obviously the whole experience made an impression. And to top it off? The echo tech Karen I just met reminded me of my Mom. She shows herself in the most unusual and unexpected places and spaces. Petite 100lb 5' 3" short gray pixie cut with glasses. Had leukemia and successful bone marrow transplant six years ago. Alas Karen was merely missing yelping in Polish, shaking her finger in my face and massive gap in-between the middle teeth. 

Perelman Center for Advance Medicine

This monstrosity of glass, of offices of advanced medicine, that I take pride my dollars must have helped fund, will not see me till these leaves fall and regrow and turn color again. That hospital across the street that has seen me four times in seven years, may never see me again. I bid farewell to my surgeon, "Don't take offence, but I hope we don't meet ever again. But thanks for the jewelry." I bid goodbye to my cardiologist, "Don't take this the wrong way, but see ya next year." To Diamond Dave, nurse practitioner par excellence, liaison of all things medical, tightrope walker of doctor egos and deft, witty deliveries, "I only hope to bump into you at Trader Joe's again."

There are things over the coming months & years to keep an eye on. My heart has had been masking this the defect by tweaking its architecture and flow over the last decades. Blood pressure is elevated again and we'll just redirect w/ new meds. The enlarged aorta mention to my husband and dad right after the surgery is not large.  Normal progression of extra pressure. Its within normal limits of size and not expect to maintain growing abnormally. "I would have fixed it while I was in there (if it needed it; but it didn't. Chillax)." The thickening of the ventricle walls is expected to subside in time - renormalize - but that will take a year or two. 

Done and done. But this blog is not. Stay tuned for more gory details! 

Update from the Dog Days of Recovery

The A Train All Start Team is all those folks who were our caregivers over the last month and change. Last week, the last one departed. We are now back to the Saylor Fam unit. This means so many things.

Each person who left said I was better than when they first arrived. Luckily, each person was able to step down their care a notch based on what the previous person did and progress I was making to participate.

Dog Days of Recovery Mascot
Name: Take a Load Off Annie

Alas, Tom has lost the live in nanny service. He goes back to being chief dishwasher, bather, grocery shopper and launder mat.

I started driving short distances. That freedom is nice. (In case you see me on the mean streets of Wallingford, note I am ginger on turning the wheel hard so steer clear of this Rouge in tight quarters.)

Having the quiet and time on my hands to chill alone is nice. Restorative to my health in another needed way. I hadn't been on my own since the first week I took off from work back in August. Filling my time? Not a problem!

1. Neighborhood walks - up to 45mins, 4x/week. Thy legs work well. Feels tremendous to be out in this weather and trail walks are even more fun than the 'burb walks. Use It. Or Lose It. 
2. Television - watching indie movies, Jimmy Fallon day left overs and two PBS series: Roosevelts and African Amer history by Skip Gates. Might binge on Blacklist, Downton, Girls or Sherlock but likely not enough tiiiime.
3. Adding in mommy chores. Waking @ 7a, making lunches & serving dinner for the fam. (Bless the folks who are delivering our dinners, such a god send not to prep or have that kitchen mess daily to deal with.)  This weekend we added a little minor grocery shopping & dishwasher loading. Next week I hope to add laundry. My theory is that I'll be finishing ramping up and ship shaping the home front when I go back into active work duty (vs trying to add back the old routine, as a whole) 
4. Blood tests 2x/week. The lab in my doc's office is conveniently open daily 10-11:15a and  3-4:15p. On average, I've waited 20 mins to be called up, after check in. Quest type lab isn't worth the drive; Trust. I've done the logistics analysis. 

The Prophet TSS noted if I could just get sleep, I'd turn the corner. The Prophet TSS delivery is down right hard to stomach sometimes with out sugar coating or syrup. I have a sweet tooth hankering to be catered to. (Calling my husband a "Prophet" points out that he is right. A lot. And me no like that. Especially his long term assessments/discussion points can be very correct. Damn. Him.) So when I buck and say, oh no no no, there is so much more to it than simply starting to sleep normal. You don't know how this feels, dude, yada yada. Wouldn't you know it? When I do start only waking up 3 times instead of 11 per night, mama bear turns the corner.

So that leads us to this Thursday's 6 week post op appointment. Its a biggie. Follow up w/ surgeon, echo test (ultrasound) and cardiologist. I was last seen in the office 2 weeks post op and my home nurse twice a week. Some nerves but overall def feel we are well down the right road and won't be redirected or get a new brief. I want my brief updated to remove the "Sternum restrictions" … this is where I still cannot push, pull, or carry more than 10lbs aka no more than a gallon of milk.

I still feel "it" when I do certain movements or move a bit more gingerly in some scenarios. It = sitting down or getting up from a deep chair, moving clothes in the closet to the side. So not too bad. On the other end of the spectrum, sneezing is beyond the simple word "painful" but it is something only momentarily stabbing (and normal). So we shall see.

And last note … this time warp continuum I am stuck in. Feels like I have been home f o r e v e r. Surgery feels so long ago. Like wow long. But it wasn't. At all. Literally a blink of the eye, if we were in our normal routine.

Joules Wired for WiFi

Sung to the tune of How much is that doggie in the window…. How much is that carbon in the window? Woof! Woof! Woof!

Meaning, how much does my new mechanical carbon valve cost? We've been watching the insurance claims come in and scanning for how much the actual new jewelry cost. Let alone physicians fee v hospital fees or every single itemization. IE Itemization down to the every IV, shot, black comb or post-op bra - both hospital issued, of course. (Oh that's right. Post-op hospital issued bra. Of course it is exactly as you imagine sitting there with your scrunched up face. The most scratchy uncomfortable thing you could think to place on your skin.)

Point being, everything is itemized like the Pentagon. I remember a Phil Donohue episode (!) where they itemized items for the military made by/for the Pentagon. A hammer was crazy over the cost of buying it in the store. Of course I accept the fact this is how medicine in this country is billed, because otherwise I'd be crazy right now. Like in need of serious sedation.

Jewlery. That reference came from my quick witted brother. He has nicked named me Joules and I love it. Meaning my new carbon valve is my new jewelry.

And another little know fact is that I am now wired for wifi on the inside. No need to carry a silly wireless card with you anymore, as long as I am around. They wire your sternum shut and it doesn't dissolve. It stays. They look like twist ties. Will not be setting off any airport sensors etc. I've seen the X-ray. The valve looks like a ring. Ya'll know I've slowly incorporated more rings into my accessorizing, so this just fits.

Mind you, I haven't looked closely at the X-ray … I dare only gaze across the room b/c it kinda freaks me out. I do think its worth a pic and sharing eventually because it is a gross cool. At least thats what I am telling my self about that type of stuff which is the category my scar falls into too. Or the stitches on the incision that are internal, but coming out externally and supposedly falling off. It sincerely looks like an alien thing is coming out of me. But it's just thread. This last one is more gross than cool.

Another jewelry related item will be the medical bracelet I will now need to where to hereby declare I am a bionic woman on blood thinners. Yes a bit over the top to where a bracelet i.e. maybe not really needed -- per my logic, maybe 1 in a 1MM I'd ever need this where I couldn't speak for myself. But with two young kids, they deserve it; to have this treated seriously. Besides, I found some cute stuff online and engraved it with some funny business. It will be here in another few weeks.

And finally the click clack. Oh, we can hear it. You can too, if you get close enough to me. Its the open/close, open/close of the valve flaps. The second day I was home, out of the hum of the hospital, I called Tom over and was like, can you hear this? He leans down, listens for a nano second and pops up. "Whoa dude." So it sounds like a ticking of a watch. And most bizarre … like the sound of my mom's timex watch. Yes, my dead mother's watch. Insert Twilight Zone musak.  I still have this watch as one of a few keepsakes. I don't wear it, I just look at it sometimes. "Bizarre" is obviously an understatement. The docs warned us you could hear the click clack afterwords. Hence part of the reason I named this site address tick tock click clack. We joked around I'd be coming down the hall at work and without seeing me, hey hey, here comes Annie! But its real. And I hear it. Nelson can also hear it and says mommy has a clock inside. (FYI, I have already grown tired of the Alligator in Peter Pan references aka it's not cute.)  I hope it doesn't drive me batty.

Someone told me my subconscious will absorb it eventually and I will cease to hear it. And you know me … always to be one looking ahead … this can be one of the coolest party tricks of ALL time.

Yep. That's it. No shit. 

Rusty and Tarnished

The Dude. With one of my fav beverages

How things been goin'?
Ahh, you know. Strikes and gutters, ups and downs.

The moral of this Big Lebowski movie quote is that ya gotta just roll with what life serves ya. Get it, bowling movie … roll!? Ugh. Terrible pun, I know. And I am not following that advice how I wish I could.  A little rusty and tarnished by emotions and time away from the keyboard … but let's give this a shot.

We're about 4 weeks out from surgery and I haven't been in touch much. I've been thinking of writing more. I've been composing blog entries in my head. Always a sign I need to write. Having people live with us is such a god send to this family. They've all done a remarkable job of sitting on me and loving this family in our alternate reality we are swimming in. I haven't felt like there has been time to write tho. I am not entertaining the care givers but I am not ignoring them either. Just been occupied. The house is quieting down a little with school starting last week. However my last excuse for not writing is that I've been at a loss where to jump back in. I feel like I owe ya'll a little recap of the odyssey. Scratch that. I owe myself a record to look back on.

Noticed recently I still have some tape adhesive in odd spots. I just have to scrub harder. As in, where they tape xyz tubes or iv's down to your arms, body trunk or what have you spot, left overs. I just didn't notice before. Oh please, thats not even the tip of the ice burg of the gross stuff.  You want gross? We got a couple good pics to share. But I think some folks will need to avert their eyes for I shall continue to bring my realness, which is too brash for some.

Heard from more than a few that find it remarkable that I am up and walking around and look good. I am glad for those comments from you.  I go for walks twice a day. I am not olympic speed walking of course but we have made it to target, the mall or the biggest yet excursion last week was ikea. And you know - well, you probably don't - there was no way on the planet not to walk my son to his first day of second grade. It's only 4 blocks people. Calm down. I do appreciate your surprise, dismay or caution warning flags. Its a good balance b/c my care team @ Penn … they are pretty … unimpressed. I thought taking it slow and managing my pain was the name of the game. They are keen to … let's say ... push forward motion. In general tho, that 2 week appt went swimmingly well and I am on track overall. Next up is the month visit on the 25th where both cardiology and surgical team looks inside and out.

All that said, not feeling like I've accomplished too much which logically, I know is ludicrous. I just am starting to hit a little bit of recovery wall where I am seemingly not getting better. I say this b/c my sternum still hurts and fearing its not healing correctly. There are clicks and clacks (bones or ??) very innocently when I try to move a certain way and you body sends a stabbing pain that makes you literally yelp out loud. When the hell is that over? (I just tried to look up another word for stabbing. That word is not good enough.) I am in stuck in a hurry up and wait phase i.e. sit here, rest, heal, repeat. I don't want this phase. I just want this aching to go away and every day - yes every - there is new pain or ache or pulled muscle. You try not fluffing your child's blanket in the middle of the night when you are up sleepless and check in and there isn't a blanket on him. In the moment it might be a small twinge or maybe you'll feel nothing except instincts.

Sleeping. Ay crumba. Sleep has been a fickle bitch. Up multiple times a night. Sometimes go to the couch out of desperation. When I wake up, I am very achy, sore, painful when I wake up b/c I am "resting" in an odd (any?) position. Literally frozen in place for a moment until I can figure out how to maneuver. My handsome husband or other saintly care giver brings me a cup of coffee and a pain pill. Ah, the breakfast of champions. But I digress ...

Just like they told me, recovery will be 2 steps forward, 1 step back. I hate the 2 step. This is just all bullshit normal recovery stuff.  I am getting upset that I am not "remarkably better" by week 4 of the 4-6 window they gave me. (We are rounding first base into 5th week, technically.) And sometimes it takes the full 3 month. Better not.  So in summary, ya'll knew this this type of whoa-is-me post was coming. A) I've earned it and B) It is fleeting and I don't see it repeating itself. So don't concern yourselves. I just had to get it out of my system. I am still fierce, somewhere in here. I got this. I know it. Because you told me so. Talk soon chitlins.

I am on narcotics ...

For two weeks now. Good times. 

My main symptoms are soreness and stiffness. My back mostly. I joke that when I am at my worst, it looks like Frankenstein walking across the room. Actually, more like hunch back. We all knew I tended to slouch. Buy I am very concave.  Feeling and looking. The drugs help me sit up and release my shoulders. Who knew chronic back pain was the after party theme?

 

Back in the waiting room today.  For a couple 2 week follow up appointments. Overall i am doing well. I am starting to sleep. I shaved my own legs today. T M I? Too much information?!? I haven't had any one have to wipe my butt so far #worstfear. Oh, was that T M I?

The news of Khloe Kardashian hair color change is scrolling on the bottom of E! News a week ago.  That is enough to drive a gal to start writing again. Yes, "news" is debatable, of course. I just was flabbergasted that this was the number two entertainment story for the entire day.

I haven't felt like writing. Not even the Kardashians drove me back to the keyboard. Might be loss of focus from drugs or the great company at the house entertaining and loving me.

My sister Tina from California is currently doing a strategic analysis of my drug intake from our home medication ledger... She has deduced my pain level reduced when dad left town. : o.  Oh dad, you don't read this blog. We kid! We Kid! 

Oh, that was a knee slapper. Too bad it hurts to laugh hard!!

Prick.
Pin Prick that is
for testing blood thinner levels.

Holy Shit-O. I am alive.

Holy Shit-O. I am alive.

The last few days of post opt have been pretty shitty. That's right, no reason to start sugar coating it for you now hunties. The poking, proding is approaching the point of ... it needs to stop i.e. Making mama annoyed.

All to be chalked up to #firstworldproblems. The continued shit world news reminds me in some moments that i am lucky to be sitting in the Heart Vascular ward with these supreme nurses in a private room. Mothers in Liberia to Syria just don't get a pinky nail worth of these treasures.

I will steer clear of details and just wanted to say hi. Not quite capable of real typing, writing, reading. But thought it was something that I was finally willing to say hi and read the sweet things you are posting for  us and Tommy and fam. Glad you are all getting a peek on Facebook at how truly great I believe he is. And the extra gramps and grandma family support I find to be like a faux fur lux item. Puur Purr Purr.

Prognosis to come home is early next week. Hoping for Monday. Oh shit. Thats technically tomorrow.

PS HAPPY BIRTHDAY TINA!!!! '
My amazing sugar sweet sister is turning 50 today.
UNBEWEEEEAAAAAVVVABLE!!!
We will celebrate properly together SOON.
XOXOXOXO

Getting Ready for Prom

Picking out a pretty dress to wear with my guy. Plucking my brows. Shave thy legs. Yesterday morning I felt like I was getting ready for prom. In the afternoon nerves started to set in and it transformed to feeling like the day before my wedding. You know that massive anticipation that almost makes you ill but you know its all good? Yep.

Dad's Hat

My dad Pete and step mom Karolin arrived on time, safe and sound, and full of love and patience. When figuring out pick up, he kicks off with: "Let me tell you what I look like." Which is hysterical on its own. But his opening descriptor was: "I am wearing a panama hat." Oh, welcome to Philly dad!

Tom is in rock star mode. As in, he is one. Pls don't forget to send you good vibes/pray specifically for him. He is fretting the actual stuff today but I am like, dude, just make sure the machines are plugged in. Today is the easy part. I get to take a long nap. There is mad mad love pouring in. Rendering me … just holy cow.

The robot called yesterday to tell us we're slated for the 1p ET slot today (its an automated notification system). And with that my dear beloved devoted readers, I will see you on the other side.

#BeforeSelfie (8.11.14)

Lickity Split

This morning I was puttering in the kitchen and realized its the weekend before. Felt momentarily exasperated. In the next breath, muffin mix was coming together and there were no paper muffin holders. Exact same feeling. I thought well, thats a good sign that pre-op feeling is on par with paper muffin cup household shortage. No worries … broke into a packet of Happy Bday cupcake holder decorations to fulfill the weekend blueberry need.

Somewhere upon the course of the day, I searched in the backs of cabinets for a pressure cooker or crock pot. I added some tasty seasonings, myself, and simmered for a while. Because by the evening, we went from, meh, muffin cup shortage to lid popped off and I was firmly embedded in the ceiling texture.

Tom was trying to scrape me off the walls (he's done this before. total pro) and mentioned we're down to 72 hrs. I was standing at the time, so I took a seat. Such an impactful moment. Feeling the last 4-5 months of pressure built up and coming to bear down on me. I cannot stress enough how tired we are of the build up to this. Writing is a creative outlet for me and cheap therapy but I do question how beneficial sifting through all the poopalacha via a blog really is. Perhaps it is adding to the weight I refer to as drama I have disdain for? I so wanted to be cool and hold it together. I don't want - or have time - to be rocking in a ball somewhere, come Monday, or the remainder of this weekend. That's all there is to it. Besides, when your kid asks, "Mommy are you ok? I am going to give you the best hug I know right now" you tend to be able to pull your sad sack self together, lickity split.

So my intention was to sit down and catch you up on the week. Ready? Started the antibiotic cream up my nose. I can report that .. I don't like it, but its ok. Pinched nerve in my hip is making a come back but fitting in as much stretching as possible, is helping. Fell asleep after lunch today. Lasted about an hour. Still not used to those episodes. Mid week, scarffed down a regional favorite - the Wawa SIzzilli and a donut. Litterally was in bed for a spell thinking i got the day care bug that went around. Nope. Ate too much! Ha ha. So much using the condition as a weight loss tool.

We've been busy, busy little beavers cleaning. Tom is totally rocking it out down to window washing. I've gotten down to cleaning out my vanity of old make up. Like seriously, I know. This place is really look spiffy, thanks largely to him! But what the hell are we getting ready for? We fit in $11 beverages sitting outside in a mini urban oasis. We've fit in a day trip to Cape May and escaped with no sunburns.

By far the coolest things are folks reaching out. The phone calls catching up with old friends have been really, really nice.  BTW, did you know your smart phone actually had a TELEPHONE in it!? Totally novel. I've gotten some super funny cards making me laugh and sweet ones too. Actual paper. Totally insane. Folks have been signing up @ meal train.com or sending iron hill gift cards which is a total relief and I am so thankful my fam will be fed. And then yesterday I got a custom made card from our Boston team. Holy shit-o. I will have this thing for, forever. They nailed it. I am photoshopped to be the Bionic Women with totally brilliant copywriting quips. Gawd, they are good. Incredibly sweet gestures all ... I am drinking it in like the thirsty native Oregon fungus we all know I am.

Tommy Boy Quotations - Episode II

"It's a weak trophy for all the hype it gets." Referring to the World Cup trophy. And ironically, how I feel about my forth coming scar.

Tom and Nelson made a trip to CVS together. We close in on little Nelson running through the store. Dad is struggling to see where he has ducked to. Nelson stops on the condom aisle. Takes a box of 24 Trojan ENZ off the shelf and yells to dad, "Get these!!!" And dad's deadpan reply, "We don't need those anymore."  Thinking to himself, we needed those 3 yrs ago, son.

Hey! Yo! Did you try the veal!? We'll be here allll week!

Tom and I have been talking about what I'll be like in recovery. He is threatening to stand over me in his yellow Media Little League t-shirt if I do not behave myself. He knows it's the one Tshirt I don't like. Why did I detest tho shirt? I have no good reasons. It just does him no favors. He wears it. All. The. Time.

Tom starts running through appropriate movie lines for when I am waking up.
"Hey. Is that a dart in your neck?" - Old School
"You mix a hell of a caucasian Jackie - Big Lebowski

Toots and The Band

Germs on Curious George come in the form of a musician named Toots who plays the guitar who lives in your nose. It's a great teaching tool for the kids. We are slightly paranoid that Nels is coughing this week. Then I go to a bday party at a bounce house (already, I know. SMH too!) and the kid isn't there at his own party b/c of foot mouth virus or tonsillitis. This is the normal contagious thing daycare kids get with sores in your mouth. De Sguss Ting. But I am not about to live this week in a bubble.

Toots

I start antibiotic gel in my nose - yep, that's right - five days prior. This helps prevent MRSA  which you can get in hospitals. Sounds like Mersa. It is Na Stay (Nasty = MRSA). Then I wash two days in a row with antibacterial Hibacleanse.  All totally worth it if you've ever watched the up lifting Frontline special about spread of disease in hospitals. So there you have it. Two items for your Netflix cue. Curious George episode on Toots and Frontline investigation. PBS at its best!

Now were off to get our wills done. It was so nice to be able to find the paperwork and have the convos without a great disturbance in the force. Should be quick 1 hr meeting to blow a hole the size of a vacation through our pocket book.

Tom is off all week and determined to blow through a household list of things to do. The man is on a mission! And its nice to have him around. Esp when I suddenly want to sleep at 7p during the night time routine. At least I bounced back later to watch Jaws (the original) with him.

Ready to Wear

Ah, the grandma zipper up in light sky blue. Or the cutie pie button up polka dot & bird print sleeper shirt. As long it buttons or zippers in the front, it shall suit the needs. Apparently putting your arms over you head - like putting on a shirt - not really an option early on. In any case, cutie pie was the choice here, of course.

Grannie Annie

Cutie Pie Comfort

Other items found on the same shopping excursion were those plaques to hang in your home. Luckily I find I don't need inspiration wood blocks hanging in my home to remind me how I want to live. (Ironically, I do have a large/huge Keep Calm & Carry On sign in my office at work. So not intentionally throwing shade at anyone with said art work.) When I saw this quote Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. Its about learning to dance in the rain. I thought to myself, I am certainly glad I don't have to be taught that. I am already a fan of - and skilled at - dancing in the rain. And something else on I saw tonight was like its ok to get sad, down, cry. Do it. And then get over it.

Go see Big Bird up close.



Make a fabulous pizza with basil from your garden


Read a magazine.

Watch Pearl Jam TWENTY, with the volume up.

Oh. How am I doing? Getting a little nervous but not overwhelmed. Good to have a pulse. Mic check. One two. One two. Few days too tired but few days very happy. Staying home, eating chips and guacamole and watching the Tribe Called Quest documentary, has a place. Been meaning to get around to that. Also practicing a little YOLO/You-Only-Live-Once type activities isn't terrible. We'll take on some gnarly overdue household items this week: wills & finishing the guest room (both overdue). But no big a-ha epiphanies. There is power in accepting your life and liking it.

By Quinten, Circa 2013.
This is a common interaction between the two of us.
 Hint: Mom = Red / Quinten = Blue

The Kiddos

Camp Play, Aug 2014

Watched my son in his camp play this afternoon. Such a gift to have the time this week to enjoy small treasures. It really is a theme this week I am returning too - the time away from work to recalibrate … such a gift. I was close to tears of joy overwhelming me as they always do on such occasions with him. It might be because I am sincerely rendered speechless attempting to articulate my feelings for this boy. Maternal unconditional love is merely the tip of the ice berg.

Many a friend have asked if we told the kids and what we are saying. I figure its worth sharing in case you land up interacting with them; we want our community to be singing off the same sheet.

Flock of Seagulls, 2014

We initially sat the oldest - Quinten, age 7 - down about a month ago to explain that mom is going away for about five days to the hospital for surgery. Family is coming to visit and help out.
Do you know what surgery is?
Yes. To fix something. (He was very non plus (sp?) )
(We prepared ourselves. For lots of questions, confusion and to fight tears at all cost. Alas, only two questions from Master Q)
How long will you be gone?  (And merely asked a few beats later) What are you having fixed?
My heart.
Ok.

And that was that. Everything we've read is all about telling them the bear minimum. Older ones can handle a little bit more but they truly don't need or want to know. So we've left it be. Then this week, while wrapping up the day in the kitchen, I had been talking up how cool it is that Grandma Karolin is coming to visit. (Like come on kiddo, let's get psyched! You are gonna have such a great time with visitors coming.) He loves the wall calendar as a visual to talk about timing. So when is she coming yada yada. Finally just said something to the effect of yeah mom, I know you'll be at the hospital when she is here. I honestly wasn't sure he had put that together - so it was quite a relief. Then he quickly rounded to the topic of fixing my heart. And specifically an X Ray. That's what I was going to go to the hospital for. Oh dear.

Stone Harbor, Spring Break 2014

The hourglass that is silently ticking in our house, just quietly burst open in my kitchen.

Its going to more than just an X Ray. That's only one part.
How are they going to fix your heart?
(Damn. He just came out with it. Well shit, now what?) You know the heart doll we have? Those things sticking out are valves and we need to fix one of them. (Shit. His face is telling me he doesn't get it. That was terrible. Try again, Lennon. Um. Hmmm. Errr.) They are going to pull out a broken part and put in a metal part. (Good answer. Good answer.)
How are they going to get to it?
(Oh snap. Don't tell them they are going to saw you open. Don't mention knives. Oh shit, what do I say!? Wait, wait, wait.) How do you think they'll get there?
They'll open you up.
Right! (Whew.)
(And without missing a beat, quickly follows with) And how are they going to close it?
(With too much enthusiasm) Staples! (oh geez, that just came out. pause, watch reaction <none>) Isn't that RAD!?
Totally!

And exhale.

Brotherly Weekend Screen Time, Fall 2013

And then the convo goes into exact number of days I will be away and what time on X date will I be home. Why is it 5 days?
What do you do on Day 1?
Surgery.
Day 2?
X Ray.
Is that all?
Well, X ray and some other stuff. I sleep a lot. Its called recovery.
Day 3-5?
I rest.

Then, he meanders into the topic of feeling pain while asleep. Feeling the staples.
Well. thats why we go to the hospital so you don't feel it. You get special medicine.
When does dad come home. What time. What day does Grandma get here. What day does Aunt Tina get here. And if you get 10 weeks off, that means I don't go to school for 10 weeks. 

Nice try buddy. And so we went a couple rounds but where we left it was, we've added to the 12th on our kitchen calendar: mom goes to hospital. That just kinda does something to me, to the household. Not good or bad. Just something.

Heart Breaker. Circa 2013

Mr. Cra Cra. Summer 2014

Play Hard. Spring 2014

The other guy - Nelson, 3 years - other story. We'll tell him a day or two before that mom is going away on a trip and he'll stay home with Q Dawg. Carrying him on my hip in the last week and he was poking at my chest. As all young kids do. I mentioned that mom won't be able to carry him when she has a boo-boo there. And he seems to connect, if i have a boo boo there, no carry. Quit while I am ahead and we'll revisit closer to a few days out. In the mean time, he thinks its hilarious to poke my breasts and giggle and say: Nipples!

Ridley Creek, Summer 2014

Felt tiny bit bad mentioning something to Nels prior to our planned reveal, but just kinda came out. It's what I have been ruminating about for months on end - not being able to push, pull or carry him for 2 months. Nothing over 10 lbs.

Go ahead, read that last one in again. Thats why we'll have people come live with us - to sit on me too. Because I will be fighting my instincts to do the opposite. All those parents out there know the cry of their child and the reaction to scoop them up and coddle them. So not surprised it seeped out and was verbalized to the person I have been worrying over. Not being able to have him sit with his head on my chest and fall asleep or cuddle on my chest is a tragic thought. Quinten tells me almost daily, mommy gives the best hugs. And of course he is tall enough to be right there in the tender zone too. I literally can't even ask the doctor how long till a little head can rest on the incision, b/c I can't bear a worse answer. 

I know you might be saying, but they can sit next to you. They can come close to you. I appreciate all the alternative thoughts. But none of those answers work for me. There is no replacement for them hearing my heartbeat with their ears. Finally tho, here is how I made peace with it. It lasts only a few weeks, when I am most tender. I am trading a few precious weeks, for a lifetime of cuddling. If they'll let me.

Everything, Summer 2014

Wanna help?

The numero uno thing I have asked for since the beginning is your humor. Dark humor doesn't seem to be a strong suit or just too gnarly for the vast majority of you to cross in to. At the least, keep it light and throw in a joke here or there. I just want to laugh.

Second up, we have been SO fortunate to have many ask if they can help in some way. Happy to share that you can now sign up to bring us food. We've set up an online sign up sheet @ MealTrain.com. 

Here is sign up link: https://mealtrain.com/qq9y9

By all means, please share.  No worries, all logistics you should need are @ that link. 

Another way to help if you are low on time or proximity but want to feed us, consider IronHillBrewery.com. This is one of our favorite locally owned places and they have e-gift cards where you can pay online & gift card delivery is via email (all digital). We'd use it to order out for ourselves & kids. 

The Meal Train site we set up can expand to list other household items or errands we need help with. We'll communicate here on this blog & Facebook if we've updated that link with an additional request. Honestly a bit stumped what we'll need after our A Team Helper Dream Team circulates out of town in September.

PS We apologize in advance if you must register for Meal Train site and find that annoying. We love you way big for considering to help. XOXO Tom, Annie, Quinten and Nelson

34 Minutes

So the pre funk last week was funky. That is a good thing. As predicated, multiple areas to meander our way around to do testing, i.e. multiple waiting rooms. I got to thinking about how many of this one particular chair model was all over the Penn hospital and offices. That chair company is making a friggin killing. But why are the friggin chairs so uncomfortable? We now conclude Deep Thoughts with Lennon-Saylor.

Results are back and fine. There was one tiny item where I'll need to do more blood work the day before but no big whoop. Something about my blood and antibodies. Don't worry, and blah-blah-blah, routine-ish, blah-blah-blah, is what I heard.

In our last episode of Tick Tock Click Clack, we were taking about finally meeting the chick that is going to feel me up and it was due to be a love match beyond what eHarmony.com or Match.com could have predicted. And we weren't disappointed.

Dr Stef is in Peru operating on babies as I type this. She travels and does this from time. I assume its something pro-bono-ish.  Maybe we come to know her as St. Stef? You know I love my nick names. However her title Surgical Director already has such a nice ring to it. Hmmm. Setting expectations too high? Ok ok but catch this. Was asking how long my thingamajig will take. About 40 mins for the actual parts replacement but 4-5 hr start to finish for the complete open her up, oil and lube job. I digress. The point being here is that she throws in a story about last week she did a heart transplant. COOL! On a 7 week old. NO WAY?! And it took her 34 minutes. HUH!? Her next comment was that is takes her longer than that to get out the door in the morning just to walk her dogs. Ok, I think I just fell for you. The moral of the story she was trying to show me was that once the stage is set and everything/one is in place, it goes pretty quick. The moral of that story for me tho, is different.  Its that she KICKS ASS! If she can do that, this is like … wait for it … tying her shoes.

Halos. Too Much?

I do think I've been freaking people out a little bit in this space. Well, this is real life and not a shellacked Facebook post. My brother summed it up nicely: well by reading your blog "you seem stressed." Sure. Thats an acceptable observation to me because my writing seeps out from the depth of me that is far below my surface. Do understand that the folks at work who saw me most frequently over this journey so far, agree I have done a good job at keeping it together. As in, I don't know how you are doing this (functioning). As in, I had no idea. As in, I am a bad ass at keeping up appearances. Writing is therapy. So seeing someone pour onto a page inside out, can be too revealing. It doesn't mean that you've seen the whole of me tho.

To this point, when the tough gets going - like the for realz shit, true crisis mode - the rubber hits the road. I think having a mom die early-ish, you figure out how to deal with the big stuff. But not so quick Lennon; Don't give yourself too much credit. Recently saw a study that cited in times of true crisis, the absolute best comes out in people. I believe it. They used the example of a car wreck on the side of the road. People do stop. Its called humanity and we aren't all jaded and we aren't all apathetic. Just a few are, and thats ok. We need some Negative Nellies and Negators out there, to balance the Sunshine and Lollipop population. 

That's why so many of you have reached out. That's why I feel so loved right now. Now its about a focus on "getting right in the head" as a friend put it. How to do that? Different for all. For me, I am drawn to focus on positive, light, happiness.

For example, saw a fantastic special on PBS recently about the study of happiness.  DVR'ed the documentary and I keep going back to it.  I sincerely hoping you look this up and view it. Click HERE for the trailer. It deeply resonates with me each time I watch because so many of the building blocks that created the foundation of how I was raised, are covered in this movie. And that is comforting to me way deep inside. It reinforces the logic listed above, And most importantly, reminds us we do have some control over our happiness. So own it. Invest in it.

A constant theme I return to is how lucky I am. That drum beat is becoming louder now. This could be so so so much worse. We could be without health insurance. We could be one catastrophic medical claim or incident from losing it all. There are so many homeless families, mentally ill not getting care, unserved veterans, abused souls roaming this country. Not to mention the straight up epidemics, disasters and wars that continuously rage across the globe. 

Then there are the friends. The faces we can connect to "conditions." The faces & stories that assign a human being we know, to our worst fears. What about the next cancer screening, my friend? Will she be cancer free? What about the co worker's wife who had a major stroke? What about her roller coaster? What about that husband's journey? What about their family unit trying to put the pieces back together?

I am already the lucky one. I am fixable. I am mendable in a short amount of time. I have insurance. I live in the era of advanced medicine. This A+B = C equation my family has is solvable. My risk factors are crazy low. Did you know statistically, I am at more risk driving a car than laying down for this this … thingamajig. This is literally nothing, in the scheme of things. So rest easy my friends. All will be good. Save and send your prayers to forgotten and abused souls instead. 

The Pre Funk

In college, I was introduced to the pre funk. The party before the party. As in, are you ready to pre-funk? Are you ready to get funky? Are you ready to get down? <Click HERE for classic funk track.>

Today is my pre op appointment. I got an appt reminder that I am meeting with the cardiac surgical team. Yowzers. Usually just says something about my cardiologist. So I am finally meeting the actual chick a dee that will be splitting me open, snipping my old valve out and sewing the new one. Hey, maybe I should double check she actually does all that or does she have one of her Grey's Anatomy interns step in since Penn is a teaching hospital? Note to self, add to questions list. In any case, I've been told a few times I will adore her, down to earth, no god complex, blah blah blah. Ok fine whatever, I've bought into this. They spend the day having baseline tests that will be used after ...to see how I am adjusting. Blood work,  EKGs, X-rays. Its just an all afternoon affair b/c I imagine I will shuffle from wait room to wait room for each separate test.

Tommy Boy is coming with. We have arrangements for pick up of one kid in case we run late. Last time this doc was 2 hrs late and we didn't meet b/c she got pulled into something else. Yes, 2 hrs.

Hatching a plan to take more couture paper gown pics. Envisions this. Different poses in different waiting rooms.  Clopping down the hallway like its a runway. Oh, I feel a vine video coming on.

Oh, must get a pic with Diamond Dave. Dave is the nurse/physician assistant that floats between the surgeon and cardiologist. AKA patient liaison so the docs don't get mired in the high maintenance of responding to the likes of me.

The Tribes, Free Shipping and The Roller Coaster

So many positive vibes sent my way after the last post especially. Muchas gracias amigos/Thank you friends. A bit remiss where to start this entry even tho it feels like I am overdue for a posting. I've set a standard for my blog entries and alas, the tank is feeling empty.

PS Did you know I have been posting to this blog since late June? Getting some Qs about how to reach the previous entries. For mobile phones try scrolling to the bottom and you might find a HOME button. On a computer, there is a left hand side bar where the entries are listed. This message brought to you by, Thanks for Reading & Sassy Pants. We now return you to the irregular scheduled broadcast.

Feeling sad-ish. Friday is my last day in the office. Coverage plans are under way at work meaning I am transitioning my work to other people. I have regrets. I understand the effects of asking people to do more with less. The team told me it would be different if I was going on a cruise for 3 months. True. Today's revelation: letting go of my work. I was literally excited last week to have so much time out of the office. This sensation is nothing I was expecting. Just like my upcoming child care situation, I have to accept my role will be done differently by others. If you don't know me from the work sphere, I actually really care about my job, my team, the people I work with. I consider them a part of my tribe and I am part of theirs. I spend a third of my day there. They could not be better about the whole situation unfolding. They've been telling me since I broke the news, don't worry about a thing here; we'll be fine. And my honest reaction was like, well yeah, duh. You guys rule; no sweat. But now I see the wave of extra work headed into their shore and now, just now, I am understanding why they have been telling me not to worry about them.

Tommy Boy reminded me its 20 days from now. "Just think, at this time 20 days from now you will be having the most peaceful sleep ever. No toddler to wake you up." Too bad I'll be high when I wake up. Oh wait, maybe not such a bad thing? In any case, felt like something is closing in on me. Ticking (punny!) down to the last day in the office is just causing me some angst in the same category (closing in on me) and fearful I can't get it all done. I tried to make a manageable punch list of less than 10 things to do before I am out for leave. Lets just say progress is not on my side. The excitement of seeing out of town peeps in not much on my frontal lobe buoying me.

Luckily, when I got home to the next third of today, someone came bursting into the mudroom to greet me. I asked for an extra hug and got one. Then I immediately learned there was a mega news flash he had to tell me about right then and there. I hope you are ready internets…. Several lego movie action sets get …. FREE SHIPPING! Wow. I know. Backstory: This is from a kid who counted his piggy bank this weekend and set up a lemonade stand and asked for extra chores all in order to get more moola for what? Lego sets, of course. Way to recenter me Q.

This past weekend Tommy Boy went to see his fraternity brothers for a 25th anniversary charity golf type thing in Wooster, Ohio. "Are you sure I should go" convos were held at least five times in my house, least you think the guy is insensitive. Quite the opposite.  I was like keep the trip because a) we pre-paid and b) go get your ya-ya's out b/c the next two months will not be fun and c) go connect with a forgotten tribe could be a cool experience. And so glad it was.

First two days of his trip I felt ok. I was disappointed to not be feeling well the later two. What I consider slight over exertion - pulling a wagon of giggling boys - proved to not be a good idea. Made me tired with that crappy low blood sugar feeling. Next day, I hired a sitter to be at the house with me while I paid bills, laundry, dishes et al which even at 100%, without a partner to wrangle ankle biters, those tasks would be more difficult.

The emotional impact of not being the parent I want to be is brutal. In addition to slowly seeing my physical capacity to parent erode, my mental capacity is in a full nose dive. You've seen that crazy lady yell at her kids for no apparent good reason and thought horrible things about her and wished those kids something better. I hate to report that I am her now. I let lose over the wrong things. I yell. I unleash. They don't deserve that. Tommy Boy has been getting horrible treatment too. If you want to pray for anyone, you should pray for him.

Don't worry. I'll be fine in another moment. I know I am just running low on patience and overwhelmed here and there. It is bound to happen. I did warned you in my first post we'd play out all angles of this gig here. Saylor Inc is on a roll coaster. You are reading this, so you are along for the ride.

Insitu on the Isle of Denial

One of the most significant bizarre components of this journey is that I feel ok. I am not that symptomatic. It hits me in spurts. And so when it does, I actually think it isn't related. My husband often points out to me in these moments that I am "crazy" if I am not connecting the dots. He's not the only one. Friends give me sideways looks when I try to go down this road with them too. Admittedly, I am quite cozy with the concept of denial.

My brother had me look up the 5 (or was it 7?) stages of denial.  Orb, you can tell I studied hard. I am swinging between the stages like a chimp in the canopy of a forest -- big long swinging arms and when I hit the top of the next tree, it sways greatly to adjust to my presence. I've visited a new tree the last couple weeks. I am graduating from being annoyed with how I feel, to frustrated which leads me to the big A, anger. I've determined this because mopey slow ballads are waning and now I am craving hard crunching rawk bands. Think Rage Against the Machine, System of a Down or Ramones, cranked very loud. I am kinda over crying to John Legend's hit every time I hear one stinking line. Or quietly trying not to weep when I see beautiful pictures of my kids.

Perhaps in an effort to balance the surging anger, like a good mixologist, I am subconsciously starting to get excited. Excited because family and friends are making travel arrangements to visit. Like I've gone to some extreme lengths for visitors, eh?  Come visit me on the Isle of Denial! We are conveniently located 10 mins from the Philadelphia International Airport. I think this is starting to be Acceptance? I have felt so much lighter. I have continued to feel better emotionally and mentally from the the last week, with smaller and smaller back slides or visits to other trees.

So that whole symptoms thing. Fleeting. It isn't constant. I feel very lucky. I have gotten a taste of what it would feel like to live with heart disease graduating slowly to congestive heart failure, effecting every day living -- only things I had previously read about. Not cool. Debilitating. All these items below subside within a few minutes if I sit still.  So I've seriously been rationalizing this list of symptoms as related to anxiety or not eating well. Which is a very convenient box when I can't deal. Drumroll please ...

1) Tired/Fatigue. Taking random naps. My rationale was that I am so stressed out my body is shutting down to recharge. My better half says that I am tired more often.
2) Shortness of breath. This one sucks. Literally. You kinda just need a beat to suck in more air after you climb the stairs. Laundry baskets and I just aren't mixing like we used to.  Just about anyone can huff and puff a little bit when they sprint to the top of a three story twin. The rationale is that I've been out of shape.
3) I've always despised putting laundry away however now it is accompanied by a tightness across my upper chest. Oh the nerve. Really.
4) Oh, I've had a couple chest pains here and there but mainly when stressed. I have no rationale for this one except every time am so surprised and say, what the hell was that?! And then poof, its gone and I forget about it.
5) Dabbling in not lying flat, just feels weird. Like you have this urge to sit up.
6) Palpitations that feel like really hard heart beats when you lay funny. So you shift your weight and it goes away.
7) Finally, a little lightheaded after I bend down to clean up cheerios off the floor or other such fabulous tasks.

The docs tell me that adult congenital patients really compensate through the years so they never have a clue of their true condition. They've always lived with it. Its only since June some of these symptoms are new, but some are old friends. So once its fixed, I could feel some cool improvements. Like dude, after all that, I *better* feel something is improved overall b/c I am walking away from this with more than an f'en scar.

The thing that probably freaked me out the most was last weekend when I just felt weak after some light gardening, grocery shopping, weekend errands, yada yada. Have you ever experience low blood sugar or the feeling you didn't eat enough protein or perhaps you skipped breakfast? My rationale was maybe I had a small tummy bug running its course. I just didn't feel right. Again the husband is like dude, reality check, that is a symptom. So for those keeping score at home, that's # 8. I actually felt it again today. Yet even as I work it out here, I think to myself, this doesn't feel how I thought heart failure was going to feel.

So back to the bizarre part. This weekend we spent with Tom's uncle and aunt on the Sassafrass River. PS thanks Libby for being the unofficial photog and posting lots of fun pics to FaceBook! As you might of saw, we did all sorts of water activities. Including mom kayaking around with a kid. So how do I look, appear and indeed feel GOOD, and yet need open heart surgery?

I joke a lot at the aspects of doctors literally calling this "elective."Well shit, I elect to have a tummy tuck while you are at it." How do you voluntarily lay down and open yourself to complications? Physically, mentally and emotionally. And let's not forget the tall dude at the door in the dark robe. Aka Risk of Death. I can give two shits there is only a 1% mortality rate with this surgery; Unbelievably low, blah, blah, blah. Doesn't take out the sting.

Well quite simply, its coming down to the numbers. Science. Data. Testing. There is a lot of grainy black and white pictures on a small screen that add up to the cold hard jagged facts showing me that I need surgery. Regardless of all my rationale to talk my way out of a paper bag, I simply cannot argue with the numbers and science that show I have to replace my valve within a year, or face certain illness. So take these taste of symptoms as a signal of the things to come and say, um, no thanks. Let's not go there, hunties.

Ultimately tho, it is trust in your choice of medical facilities. That the science it right. That the doctors are right. That the medicine and diagnosis is as modern as you can get. Thats why we're @ Penn. Oh geez. I just wrote an ad campaign by accident. Apologies. One of the top questions I get: so where are you going? Regionally they are best choice and for this specific Adult Congenital segment I am in, they are easily the top 3 or 5 nationally. I do feel like I am yet another paycheck to help fund the newest building on their campus (Penn's campus has expanded a lot since I started going there 7 yrs ago)  however it about going where the cutting edge medicine is.

My husband Tommy Boy convinced me ultimately to get it over with and put it behind us. In June, he was the one that said, call them and tell them that I was experiencing symptoms. And hence the train left the station. I want to live a long life with him and the kids. So in that context, in this situ, it is very, very simple. Any moment it is not, his reinforcement is there to catch me from swaying, "We are doing this now. Let's just get it taken care of." And here's why: