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Greetings from our house in Nederland! Our stay at the hotel went pretty well — minimal peeing on the carpet, narrowly avoided fights with 120lb Newfoundlands, etc — except that I forgot my laptop power cord. And my cell phone charging cord. I went back today and retreived both, thank goodness!

Ben and I got up early this morning to make the trek to Dr. MacDonald’s in Denver. (Dr. MacDonald is my cardiologist.) They make you get there so early — I had a 10:30 echocardiogram appointment, but I had to arrive at 10:15 or 10:10, and my “real” appointment was at 11:30. That left me with a lot of time to sit around. Ben and I got our Starbucks at a nearby shopping mall, I filled out my mountain of paperwork from the front desk, and when I went to return it I knocked over my mocha creme (meaning no coffee in it) frappucino. It went all over — ALL over — the floor, and I went to the bathroom to get paper towels and mop it up. No big deal, but geez louise it took a lot of paper towels.

“I’m worried that you’re not more upset by this,” Ben said.

“Oh yeah? Would you like me to stand up and curse a little?” I countered.

“No, that doesn’t make much sense,” answered Ben wisely. “I understand that you’re exhausted. [Correct!] But I think that a emotional investment in what you’re doing is critical before you do anything like drive again.” Sigh. I agreed — what else am I supposed to do? I’m *exhausted*. Having a conversation is tough. GRR.

Anyway, fast forward to my echo. A gentleman in his 50s gave it to me, and he was very nice — until Ben took a picture.

“What was that flash?” he said.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know it was going to do that,” Ben replied. Then the old guy went off on Ben for making such “distractions.” Oops! And, somehow, my camera corrupted the images, so I don’t have any pictures to show you! Bummer!

Finally, finally, we got ushered into the room where we would discuss my progress with Dr. MacDonald. My echos look great, apparantly. He’d like me to stay on my cocktail of high-powered blood thinners for three months unless I have “problems” with them. Now, I’m not sure what “problems” he’s talking about; I have unexplained bruises all over me, and when I shave it’s like bombing the Hoover Dam and unleashing a flood. If these aren’t “problems”, then I don’t really know what is! I asked why I needed to be on so many blood thinners.

“Is there a clot forming around my patch?” I asked. “Could I have another stroke if I stop using the medication?” He assured me that I wouldn’t.

“The patch I used has VERY rare instances of blood clots, but I’d like you to be careful,” he told me. It seems stupid to me to take the trifecta of blood thinners just to be “careful,” but whatever. As long as Ben doesn’t crash the car, I should be fine.

And, he said, I can’t go cross-country skiing until February, in addition to no downhill skiing. Bummer!

On the way home, Ben asked me why I was so upset about it; “You’re not doing anything anyway! Why do you make it sound like you’re going to do all these exciting sports?” I had a hard time answering him on that one. On one hand, yes, it seems silly to ask all these questions about whether I can go cross-country skiing and rock climbing and stuff. On the other hand, I WANT to be able to do them. If I were healthy, you BET I’d be doing them! I yearn for the day when I’ll be able to do them again, and I guess by asking when I’m allowed to it makes me feel one step closer. Stupid, perhaps. Uber-confident, definitely. But I WANT TO DO IT SO LEAVE ME ALONE, OKAY???

On the way home we did our Thanksgiving grocery shopping. I’m looking forward to seeing Mom, Dad, Jessica, Jeremy, and Caden in a few days! :)

Greetings from the Boulder Outlook Hotel and Suites! We’re down here for five days while “they” refinish our floors, “they” being Nick and whoever he’s hired.

I have been exhausted as of late. Not quite as bad as before, like in August when I’d gotten back from Hawaii, but pretty darn tired. Thank you to Ben for getting up early and moving all the stuff out of our hard-wood-floor areas on Wednesday morning! :) I slept through that.

At Islands (the restaurant) last night, I planned to order what I usually do: Yaki Tacos. This isn’t a hard choice. They’re soft tacos with teriyaki chicken, lettuce, tomato, and pineapple on them. I have to remember to order them without cheese, which I’m not fond of. However, I *always* get these at Islands. They’re good!

But when the waitress came, I said, “I’ll have BBQ chicken quesadillas, please!” I don’t even KNOW where you go to get BBQ chicken quesadillas. Aphasia strikes again!

I am brain-damaged.

I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to reach this conclusion. I’m smart! I guess I’ve been waiting to just get better, and it’s not coming as quickly as I’d hoped. Now I’m starting to think about a career — or, rather, jobs. However, my attention span is so short and I fatigue so easily that I don’t know what jobs I can get.

“Would you like to sell vitamins?” Melissa asked me at speech therapy on Wednesday.

“Huh?” I asked.

“You know, kind of like Mary Kay. You give parties at your house and people come over and buy stuff.”

“Oh. Uh … no, thank you.” (Do you picture me as a Mary Kay lady? I don’t! And parties scare me.)

“How about transcription?” she offered. “Doctors leave their notes and messages on a tape, which you pick up and type at your leisure.”

“Maybe.” The problem I have with that is my ego. Doctors think they’re SO smart, right? (No offense, Kat!) I’ve thought about going to medical school and becoming a doctor. Goodness, I would make a sympathetic doctor. But the hours med students keep … goodness. Then I sit back and really think about it for a minute and realize that I couldn’t even do the studying. I’ve thought about becoming a nurse, too, but (1) I couldn’t poke people, and (2) they work 12-hour shifts! There’s no way I could do that!

I’ve thought about becoming everything that I can. Scooper at the Nederland Ice Cream Shop? They don’t need anybody. The health club? The Rustic Moose Gift Shop? Same story!

When I was little, all I wanted to do was win the Nobel Prize. Scooping ice cream (or “shovelling it”, as I elegantly put it in a conversation with Ben when I was tired) seems like such a far cry from the Nobel Prize! I remember a conversation I had with an advisor at Tech who was advising me not to take a term off to work at Lutheridge. In the end, he gave me permission to skidaddle for a while, but he “wouldn’t sign the form”. I got the impression that he felt there were much more worthwhile things to do than waste your time at something as trivial as summer camp. And now? I’m going to scoop ice cream/run the desk at the health club/run the cash register at the rustic moose? I’m wasting my time!

I am nothing like the Kathy that I was a year and a half ago. I can’t pay attention to things for very long, or with any distractions, and I get tired. Very tired. Very fast. Which sucks! If I had enough energy to go a full day without getting tired, I’d take all my other “mental ailments” in stride. Can’t do calculus today? No problem!

Honestly, I’d like to just be a mom now. Saying it like that’s going to hurt my mom’s feelings, and I’m sorry about that. However, I’d always envisioned being a mom while doing something else simultaneously. I’d be the PhD-mom, or the high-school-science-teacher-mom, or the … stay-at-home-mom? But now I’d welcome that. But the problem is that I don’t even have enough energy to do that! How would I feed a child? How would I get up every three (or two, or …) hours at night? How would I write notes to their teachers or help them with their homework with my crappy handwriting? How could I take them skiing or hiking? Gosh, I HATE this. It’s not fair to me, but it’s also not fair to my kids!

A lot of people say, “Well, in x number of months you’ll feel much better.” But I don’t KNOW that I’m going to get all better. It would be nice, and I’ll keep working towards it, but I’ve really got no idea where my stopping point is. I would love to get some of my energy back, but I may be stuck here forever. Will I ever have enough energy to teach? If not, or if it’s debatable, should I go back to school to become a teacher? Because school is, honestly, a terrible chore. I can’t even write! Do you know what it’s like to be in a classroom where you’re supposed to be taking notes and not even be able to WRITE??? Not to mention the crowdedness, the noisiness, etc. It’s horrible. Not something I’d like to do just for the experience.

And then, if I do teach or get some other job, what about when I become a mom? For one thing, the pregnancy is going to be VERY tiring. I guess it normally is, but add on to that trips to Denver to be checked out by my OB-GYN, and my general tired-ness … For another thing, I don’t think I can have a job and be a mom at the same time! Some people choose to do that (stay home, that is); I don’t think it will be a choice for me. I think I will HAVE to stay home. I won’t have the energy to do anything else! So is it worth the effort to go out and get a job if I know that I’m not going to stick with it?

A lot of what I’m doing is readjusting my expectations. It’s just not fair to hold myself to the same standards that other people at Caltech do; I’ve had two strokes, da**%$! I’m lucky that I can walk!

Sometimes I think it’d be easier if my IQ went down to 80 or something. Then, I’d be dumb and I wouldn’t know it and wouldn’t care. But here I am, still pretty sharp when I’m awake, and I’m dealing with this idea that “I’m still smart, but you wouldn’t know it because I get exhausted so quickly.” (And my visual-spatial reasoning has gone downhill, and I have aphasia, and … my neuropsychologist has a lot to add, I’m sure!)

But I am coming to terms with it.

My sister suggested that I post more photos on my blog. I didn’t take these, so I’m not sure if they count or not, but they’re pretty fun! Here I am getting M&Ms served to me in the hospital, courtesy of Ben. (They wouldn’t even let me lift my head off my bed, hence the need for hand-fed M&Ms!)

Also suggested to me was baking. I tried it this afternoon with a tried-and-true recipe: chocolate chip cookies. Geez louise, I SUCK at making cookies! I didn’t have any brown sugar, nor any baking soda; I used baking powder instead. The cookies are edible, but barely. EWW :(

I’m at a boredom point here. For example, in therapy on Tuesday, Ben, Mark and I talked about watching TV. I have several reasons for watching it: (1) it’s relaxing, and (2) it creates a kind of pseudo-social atmosphere that I can “take part” in. Melissa says it’s fine to watch TV, but I should do other stuff in between shows.

“Like what?” I asked. “Knitting? Cross-stich? They’re BORING.”

“Well, what else would you like to do?” she asked.

“Teach, go skiing, go hiking … you know, all the stuff that I’m not allowed to right now and don’t have enough energy to.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t have any really good ideas. Do some photography (which I am trying to work on) and “practice my handwriting” were the brilliant things she came up with. Chores, too. Ooh, fun! Today’s my day to clean out the bedroom! Yay!

Last night I went to the Boulder Ski Swap, which is an event at which you can buy cheap used nordic skis. I’ve been thinking about trying cross-country skiiing since Jen recommended it and I learned that I can’t downhill ski for quite some time. Unfortunately, I messed up. I had to be down in Boulder at 11:15 am for a doctor’s appointment, so I hitched a ride down with Ben. Then, I walked to therapy with Melisssa at 1:00. I missed the 2:10 bus back up to Nederland, so I hung around for the 3:10 bus. I got on no problem — and discovered that I was on the WRONG bus. This one was bound for God-knows-where out in the middle of nowhere. I stayed on it for way too long; this was a “stroke moment,” if ever I’ve had one. I finally got off in Golden, waited half an hour, and got turned around. Back to Boulder at 5:00, which is when I *thought* the swap started, but no … it started at seven! So I got to wait around for two hours!

Dan met me there and showed me around, which was really nice. I felt like, for once, I had a friend and a purpose. However, the swap was NOISY. Man, was it noisy. This is another good example of my stroke-induced wimpiness, I guess. I was tired and just ready to get out of there. They didn’t have any backcountry skis, so I just left. At 7:08. Good lord! That’s wimpy, to show up and be able to stay for EIGHT MINUTES!

Anyway, that’s where I’m at right now: boredom and frustration. If you post comments (and please do!), I’d love to hear suggestions for things to do. Are you dying for a hand-knit scarf? Need something cross-stitched? Want a letter hand-written lefty? I’m your man!

As I sit here in my kitchen two days after my heart surgery, I can’t believe that I’ve now got two pieces of titanium binding a hole in my heart. It doesn’t feel like I had anything done! My arm is the only thing that hurts, and that’s from the pneumococcal vaccine they gave me :)

After rousing myself out of bed at the ungodly hour of 5:20 am on Tuesday, I checked in at the hospital and was sent to “Ambulatory Care”. (Why is it called “Ambulatory Care”? Half the people in there couldn’t even walk!) I undressed and … drumroll please … got an IV. I was scared of this; given that nobody could find a vein to take blood from the day before, I expected giving me an IV to be traumatic. However, the nurse got it on THE FIRST TRY!!! I was thrilled.

Finally, at 8:30, they wheeled me into the Cath Lab, where I had the procedure done. The Cath Lab is kind of like an operating room: it’s sterile and has lots of fancy equipment around and tons of people in it. However, it wasn’t too sterile for me to have stuffed company; Jake and Kate accompanied me! Frank (I think that’s his name) was my medicine nurse; I liked him because he gave me the relaxation medication. Somebody else came by and shaved the area of my groin where they inserted the catheter, and Dr. MacDonald was there (of course — he’s my cardiologist) along with Dr. Fanale (one of my neurologists) and his assistant.

The ceiling had photographs of the mountains on it. The one on the right was aspens in the fall, in the fog, and the other one I forget, honestly. I think it was peaks in the sunshine. Anyway, when they gave me the medication, the pictures started to “run”. It was vaguely disturbing to see the colors run vertically (yes, it was directional!), but also comforting — I was so loopy that my vision wasn’t working. :) Then Dr. MacDonald gave me a local anesthetic to prevent my groin from hurting and they were off. I didn’t feel anything else. When they snaked the catheter to my heart (which they SAID wouldn’t hurt, but I don’t believe doctors when they tell you “it won’t hurt”!), I didn’t feel ANYTHING. I expected it to at least be cold or something, but no! It wasn’t!

They had a neat x-ray machine that took videos during the procedure, and somehow manages to limit your exposure; for the 17 or so minutes of video, I received the equivalent of about 10 chest x-rays of exposure. Cool! Moreover, they gave me the video!!! Below, you can see my necklace (for scale; convenient, no?), the catheter they inserted through my leg/groin, the “camera,” and of course, the “Amplatzer PFO occlusion device.”

Towards the end, they had me do a Valsalva. I complied, and later they had me do a couple more. It turns out the they didn’t see any bubbles after they implanted the device! (I was too out of it to catch on at the moment — I didn’t even know that they’d implanted the device until I left the operating room and Dr. MacDonald congratulated me!) That is, apparantly, unexpectedly good — usually, it’d take about a month (or two, or three, or …) for the walls of my heart to grow around the patch and occlude any bubbles from passing. This is very good news (according to the doctors). :)

They wheeled me back to “Ambulatory Care,” the nurse removed the catheters (which were surprisingly big — like an eighth of an inch in diameter) and then held pressure on my “wound” for 20 minutes. I guess they have to do that because of the boatload of anticoagulants they put me on; I’m now on all four of the available ones. Lovenox, Coumadin, Plavix, and aspirin. !!! I expected to be sore, but for all that hubabaloo, they wound is extremely … wimpy. :) I’ve got two tiny little scabs! :) The nurse gradually sat me up a little, which frustrated me because, goshdarnit, I just wanted to sit up! And walk to the bathroom! Eventually, after four hours of lying down, they let me get up … and I walked to the bathroom, and around my new ward, the “Progressive Care Unit”. (Why is it called the “Progressive Care Unit”? I asked, and the nurse said that it’s mostly for heart patients and a step above the ICU, but I still don’t get it.)

The rest of my visit was boring. I got poked a lot because although they got my IV in just fine, and I was bleeding like crazy, they couldn’t draw blood without a minimum of three pricks. “Why don’t you just take it from my IV line?” I pleaded, but they wouldn’t (or couldn’t, because they need “fresh blood” ???). I also got a flu shot and that pneumococcal (sp?) shot, just because it was convenient (no trip to my doctor in Boulder, no copay, etc.)

Now I’m home! I had a good, long sleep last night — I feel asleep at eight o’clock. ;) I must say that this “surgery” was a delight. It was easy! I don’t feel the slightest bit sick or ANYTHING. (And they didn’t have to stick anything down my throat …) Whoever invented the idea of doing this stuff with catheters should be praised, because it sure beats open-heart surgery :) The nurses were nice (especially when they weren’t poking me) and Dr. MacDonald was thrilled. Now comes the hard part: resting. I can’t lift anything greater than 10 pounds for a week (or was it two …? Hmm …), and I can’t do anything more strenuous than walking. No skiing for three months. Suck. But I’ll take it!!!