It’s hard to believe it’s been over six months since I got sick and my whole life changed, but here we are.
I haven’t posted any updates for some time, because there hasn’t been any update to give - COVID stopped all treatment in its tracks. I spent March, April and the beginning of May in utter solitude. No one came in my house, and I only ventured out for walks and fresh air in the evening when no one was around, like a vampire. I found I had no attention span to read books; I had to keep my hands busy at all times, so I listened to audiobooks while I made meals, did embroidery projects, and sewed. Likewise, I couldn’t organize my thoughts coherently enough to write anything here, although I did keep a journal of each day that we lived in this new COVID era.
Slowly, the initial terror I had felt that I was doing to die in the pandemic (chances are huge that COVID would be fatal to someone with my decreased heart function) subsided, and I became more comfortable going outside in the daylight. At the beginning of May I opened my bubble, to my dad, who came to visit and help me with some chores around the house. He also accompanied me to St. Paul’s, my first trip out in months, to have an MRI to check up on the status of my heart.
The news was good: I have no permanent damage or scarring on my heart. My heart function has risen from 24% to 54%; an amazing increase in a relatively short time period, and the hope is that it will increase further – a normal person’s heart would be somewhere in the seventy percent range. My medications have now been increased to help facilitate that increase, because I’m finally able to venture out to get the regular bloodwork I need to make sure I am tolerating the new dosages, as long as I’m masked and gloved and come home and shower and wash my hair right away (doctor’s orders). I’m still waiting to get into the heart rehab program that stalled when the pandemic hit; the latest I heard was that a virtual program was going to start and I’ve been referred to it, so I’m just waiting for the call to let me know I’m in. Interestingly, doctors are studying one of the medications I am on, candesartan, as a possible treatment for COVID-19; patients taking the drug seem to be having better-than-expected outcomes, so the virus may not be the potential death sentence I thought it was when this all began. So, the news is fairly positive around here.
My heart is still quite enlarged, however, and my doctors have told me this is an indication that if I was to go off the medication, the heart failure is likely to recur. They’ve advised me I will be on the medications for the rest of my life. There are a few minor and major consequences to this: no drinking, ever, no marijuana anything, ever, no grapefruit, ever. The drugs I’m on are dangerous if taken while pregnant, to both mother and child, so any hopes I may have had of making hay while the sun shines and having a kid before it’s too late are probably foiled, at least by traditional means. I do think these are all acceptable prices to pay, considering the alternative. I still tire very easily and get chest pain if I overdo it with physical activity; I’ve been told that pericardial pain is something I may experience for several more months. The drugs make my blood pressure extremely low so I’m often dizzy and have tingling hands and feet., and fall asleep at times when it’s really low. Again, tolerable consequences given the alternative.
So, I’m still home, still social distancing, trying to recondition my heart so that I can resume life as normal sometime in the next…year? That’s what my doctors think. I’m focusing on slowly and steadily losing some weight to make things easier on my heart. I’ve redone my patio so that Currie and I have a nice outdoor space to spend our time. We have two house swallows who have moved in as roommates, and hummingbirds visit us daily. My attention span still hasn’t returned to the extent that I can sit and read for hours like I used to, but I spend a lot of time listening to the wind in the trees, watching the sky, or listening to the birds. I’m often lonesome for company, often bored, but I connect with friends and family on Zoom and FaceTime when that happens, and I’m grateful for my cranky fuzzy grey familiar who is always by my side.
I remind myself that it’s important to remember what I had learned before COVID, that taking it one day at a time and not worrying or planning too far ahead is the key to remaining contented during this forced downtime. But I’m plotting for the future like you wouldn’t believe. Staring your mortality in the face does that to you. Suddenly there are no more excuses, and a lot of fears and insecurities are released too, once you face the worst and survive.
Onward.