Greetings from Minnesota!
Gosh, this summer was going so well! My dad and our extended family celebrated our 30th annual family beach vacation on the Oregon coast at the end of June. Our grandkids are now the same age as our kids were when we first started going to the beach together, so it was extra fun this year. We enjoyed being out on the beach with them as well as having some epic moments playing with Duplos in our hotel room. I’ve been waiting for them to get old enough to play with me. 🙂
It was also wonderful to have my 95-year-old dad at the beach with us. We celebrated his birthday and Father’s day, and we were able to get a handicapped permit so we could drive him to Haystack Rock to look at the puffins and cormorants through the binoculars. This is a tradition my sister started with dad, and over the years it has become a regular event for the whole family during our time at the beach. Of course, people get really nervous when they see a car on Cannon Beach, since it isn’t legal to drive on the beach there. My brother likes to tell them not to worry — it’s just the pope in that black SUV!
As you have probably already read in earlier posts, my heart had other ideas about how to end our vacation at the coast. After my cardiac arrest in 2016 and vTach storms in 2018 and 2019, my heart had been relatively quiet. We were hoping it would stay that way, but that turned out not to be the case. The good news is that I had fewer shocks this time, no CPR, no new device, and no ICU delirium.
We flew home to Minnesota last Sunday evening and spent a few days in the Cities seeing family and friends and then having doctor appointments. I’m on some new medications now, so I have new appreciation for the alarms on my iPhone that help me remember to take meds five times a day instead of the former two times a day. Otherwise, my treatment plan looks much the same. My case is idiopathic, meaning that the docs really can’t explain what is causing it. As Steph said, it’s as much of an art as science trying to balance the medications to keep my heart in rhythm. At the end of my appointment, my doctor laughed and said, “You know, you probably don’t want to hear this, but these events could be completely random, so it might not really matter which medications you take.” I suppose it isn’t funny, but we couldn’t stop laughing. We feel so lucky to have such a wonderful care team at the University of Minnesota.
We came back to our home up north on Wednesday night, and it has been wonderful to be here. So quiet, except for the sound of the river behind our cabin, and fun to see the deer and turkeys wander through our yard every day. We see the bears, too, but only on our trail camera. They seem to know when we are home and steer clear of us.
I will sign off here, but I just wanted to extend my appreciation to all of you who have supported us during the last two weeks:
- the device nurses from the University of Minnesota who called us in the middle of the night and provided comfort and advice after my ICD fired two nights in a row
- the doctors and nurses at Providence Hospital in Portland who both provided excellent care and inspired us with stories about their leisure activities — climbing Mt. Rainier, running 50-100K races, taking part in the Seattle to Portland bike race, and much more
- my electrophysiologist and his nurse practitioner from the University of Minnesota who took time to call and consult with the doctors in Portland and who squeezed me into their already busy clinic schedule as soon as we got home
- the thoughtful and caring hospital chaplain who came to talk to me. One minute we were having a good laugh over something, and the next I was sobbing. I guess I had a few emotions to express after a difficult hospital stay. I felt better right away afterward. Why is it that just saying some things aloud makes them less scary?
- my cousins Jan and Scott and Mandy who supported Steph at the hospital during some rough moments and who cooked meals for Steph and gave her a place to catch up on some sleep. They also just make me laugh, which is, as they say, the best medicine.
- speaking of laughter, my big brother, Jeff, who visited when I was still unconscious and later stayed part of the night with me in the ICU. Steph said that I improved by 50% during the hours he was there.
- my sister, Jennifer, and my dad, who kept my spirits up over the telephone, and then Jen flew in from California the day I got out of the hospital, both to see me and to keep dad company. He’s 95, so that’s where I get my staying power.
- my daughter Tina, her wife Jessica, and our 21-month-old grandson Jack who visited us in the ICU. Jack brought his play medical kit, so I was practically healed after he smiled at me, listened to my heart with his stethoscope, gave me several shots, and played peek-a-boo around the hospital bed.
- my son Andreas, his wife Greta, and our new grandbaby Annika who kept in touch via the phone and text and were waiting for us to visit when we arrived home in Minnesota
- my childhood friend, Tani, who visited me in the hospital and afterward said, “Well, you weren’t quite there, yet!” She brought me pictures from our cross-country bike trip in 1976 in order to cheer me up.
- our family and friends who followed along via text and CaringBridge and sent prayers and messages of hope and support
- and my Steph, who is always my advocate in the hospital, a wonderful communicator via CaringBridge, an efficient organizer for our complicated logistics with housing, travel, etc., my caregiver this week, and my sweet bride otherwise in my life
Much love from
Nancy