I've been meaning to post this link for some time now. For those of you who know me, I enjoy promoting a healthy lifestyle, whether it be with friends, family, co-workers, patients. Working on a cardiac step down unit, I half joke that I too follow the diet most of our patients are on, the Cardiac Diet, which generally consists of low salt, low fat, no caffeine. I make it known that everyone should attempt to follow this diet, if not an even more specialized diet if a person happens to have diabetes, renal issues, immune system problems, like myself, etc. They all know that I keep a small stash of walnuts and dark chocolates nearby as my snack. And the majority of the staff know that my wonderful chef of a husband cooks very well for me. Food that is organic and local and yummy! While we do cheat and eat non-organic foods when we go to a restaurant, we make a pretty good attempt at eating healthy most of the time.
Knowing that I am a nurse and that following a good diet is essential for us all, Russ shared this article entitled "Being Fat in America" with me. John Robbins, the author, contrasts the stories of two obese young people our age. At first, I was appalled that a restaurant called the Heart Attack Grill could even be in existence. The poster child for that restaurant died early last month. While not from a heart attack, he died of complications from pneumonia, one being the obvious co-morbidity of being obese. The second part of the article shares the story of a young obese woman, who followed a diet quite the opposite of what is offered at the Heart Attack Grill. She provides redemption and hope for all those who struggle with obesity. How could one not be inspired?
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
The flu details
Enduring the flu was a significant cross this Lent, which gave me an early glimpse into Easter.
About three weeks ago, I thought I was coming down with the classic cold, with my sniffles and sneezes after working my usual 4 ten hour shifts. I always complain of fatigue on Friday, though in retrospect, the fatigue did seem to weigh on me more than my typical Friday fatigue. Russ, my husband, and I have started to make Friday evenings our "date night." Instead of going out that evening as usual, I made a special request for takeout from the Mexican restaurant in town.
Those who are close to me know that I am cold-natured. Even in the summertime, I keep a blanket nearby. I complained of feeling much "colder" than usual at bedtime. My doting husband of course draped my favorite blanket over me that night. Two hours later, I woke up sweating. It did occur to me that I actually had chills, and just sweated out my unacknowledged fever. But I was in denial and only cared to sleep.
That Saturday, a dry cough was added to my growing list of symptoms. In the morning, I found a tussin gel cap in our medicine drawer and popped in the last one. I talked to a couple girlfriends on the phone, attempted sleep, and drank plenty of orange juice, water, and green tea. Russ and I were planning on going to a close friend's birthday gathering that night, but I didn't want to expose my sick self to friends. We decided to skip out on mass that night also. Feeling as sick as I did, I would not have wanted to sit beside me at church.
Russ made our weekly Kroger run without me that evening. I made a couple requests to pick up chicken broth and more tussin caps for this annoying cough. My ever-loving husband was clearly concerned about me. He asked the Kroger pharmacist if his wife was pregnant, is Robitussin safe to take? He was told not so much. He called to notify me. I rolled my eyes and grudgingly agreed. While we were no longer avoiding pregnancy, it was too early to tell if there could be a little bun in the oven.
I struggled to take a nap with this constant cough and general achiness while he was away. I began feeling pretty cold again. I finally used the thermometer for the official fever read of 102.1. I groaned and went back to the medicine drawer for Tylenol this time. My heart rate is normally in the 60's, but when I checked my own vitals, my pulse was in the high 90's. I could no longer say it was just a cold.
Russ offered to take me to the ER, but I used the excuse of feeling too sick to go (where sick people should go), but I would be open to going to an urgent care clinic the next day. So we went that Sunday morning. The dry cough was as annoying as ever and the rapid flu swab showed that I had influenza A. Because of the possibility of being pregnant, I was denied Tamiflu, the drug of choice for the flu. The nurse practitioner recommended drinking plenty of fluids, getting lots of rest, and taking Tylenol should I spike another fever.
I did take my flu shot in the fall and will continue to every year, no matter what the doubters say. The shot doesn't catch every string of the flu unfortunately. But I take it to protect the patients and myself. And with this so-called diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, I will take it yearly to decrease the risk of relapses.
With spiking fevers twice a day, the never-ending cough, fatigue, and achiness, I did feel hopelessly miserable. I wondered if I would ever feel better and pick myself off the couch. Perhaps I should have gone to the ER and received a liter bolus for my dehydration. I was truly sick. I also felt guilty for not being at work, but had to remind myself why I shouldn't expose my flu to healthy co-workers nor the already sick patients on the floor. My self-quarantine was doing my immediate world a favor, except my husband, who was exposed to my germs daily in our small apartment.
I regretted not asking the nurse practitioner for a prophylactic Tamiflu prescription for Russ. I did not want Russ to feel what I was experiencing. I couldn't help but think how easy it would be to obtain a prescription for him from almost any one of the doctors at work. I called into my husband's doctor's office and made my plea on the answering machine. I was pleasantly surprised to hear back directly from his doctor that afternoon. I was more than grateful for his genuine kindness and concern.
I can't pinpoint the exact moment when I started to be lifted out of my misery either by late Wednesday or Thursday. Knowing that Russ would be better protected by taking Tamiflu certainly helped. My temperatures were not so high. I was gaining some energy back. The West Wing and Everybody Loves Raymond had me smiling. A couple friends were checking in to see how I was doing. Russ had set up the humidifier daily. I couldn't believe how grateful I was for a productive cough toward the end of this bout of flu and the eventual reality that this sickness would end.
By that following Monday, I went to work with a renewed sense of a blessed life and gratitude for good health and a husband who genuinely loves me. As if I had risen to new life, I felt like a brand new person and shared it with whoever I encountered. I actually realized and admitted that I love my job. While some days are challenging, what job doesn't have its graces and challenges? I could not stop expressing the love and appreciation I felt toward my co-workers. That Monday was my Easter.
About three weeks ago, I thought I was coming down with the classic cold, with my sniffles and sneezes after working my usual 4 ten hour shifts. I always complain of fatigue on Friday, though in retrospect, the fatigue did seem to weigh on me more than my typical Friday fatigue. Russ, my husband, and I have started to make Friday evenings our "date night." Instead of going out that evening as usual, I made a special request for takeout from the Mexican restaurant in town.
Those who are close to me know that I am cold-natured. Even in the summertime, I keep a blanket nearby. I complained of feeling much "colder" than usual at bedtime. My doting husband of course draped my favorite blanket over me that night. Two hours later, I woke up sweating. It did occur to me that I actually had chills, and just sweated out my unacknowledged fever. But I was in denial and only cared to sleep.
That Saturday, a dry cough was added to my growing list of symptoms. In the morning, I found a tussin gel cap in our medicine drawer and popped in the last one. I talked to a couple girlfriends on the phone, attempted sleep, and drank plenty of orange juice, water, and green tea. Russ and I were planning on going to a close friend's birthday gathering that night, but I didn't want to expose my sick self to friends. We decided to skip out on mass that night also. Feeling as sick as I did, I would not have wanted to sit beside me at church.
Russ made our weekly Kroger run without me that evening. I made a couple requests to pick up chicken broth and more tussin caps for this annoying cough. My ever-loving husband was clearly concerned about me. He asked the Kroger pharmacist if his wife was pregnant, is Robitussin safe to take? He was told not so much. He called to notify me. I rolled my eyes and grudgingly agreed. While we were no longer avoiding pregnancy, it was too early to tell if there could be a little bun in the oven.
I struggled to take a nap with this constant cough and general achiness while he was away. I began feeling pretty cold again. I finally used the thermometer for the official fever read of 102.1. I groaned and went back to the medicine drawer for Tylenol this time. My heart rate is normally in the 60's, but when I checked my own vitals, my pulse was in the high 90's. I could no longer say it was just a cold.
Russ offered to take me to the ER, but I used the excuse of feeling too sick to go (where sick people should go), but I would be open to going to an urgent care clinic the next day. So we went that Sunday morning. The dry cough was as annoying as ever and the rapid flu swab showed that I had influenza A. Because of the possibility of being pregnant, I was denied Tamiflu, the drug of choice for the flu. The nurse practitioner recommended drinking plenty of fluids, getting lots of rest, and taking Tylenol should I spike another fever.
I did take my flu shot in the fall and will continue to every year, no matter what the doubters say. The shot doesn't catch every string of the flu unfortunately. But I take it to protect the patients and myself. And with this so-called diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, I will take it yearly to decrease the risk of relapses.
With spiking fevers twice a day, the never-ending cough, fatigue, and achiness, I did feel hopelessly miserable. I wondered if I would ever feel better and pick myself off the couch. Perhaps I should have gone to the ER and received a liter bolus for my dehydration. I was truly sick. I also felt guilty for not being at work, but had to remind myself why I shouldn't expose my flu to healthy co-workers nor the already sick patients on the floor. My self-quarantine was doing my immediate world a favor, except my husband, who was exposed to my germs daily in our small apartment.
I regretted not asking the nurse practitioner for a prophylactic Tamiflu prescription for Russ. I did not want Russ to feel what I was experiencing. I couldn't help but think how easy it would be to obtain a prescription for him from almost any one of the doctors at work. I called into my husband's doctor's office and made my plea on the answering machine. I was pleasantly surprised to hear back directly from his doctor that afternoon. I was more than grateful for his genuine kindness and concern.
I can't pinpoint the exact moment when I started to be lifted out of my misery either by late Wednesday or Thursday. Knowing that Russ would be better protected by taking Tamiflu certainly helped. My temperatures were not so high. I was gaining some energy back. The West Wing and Everybody Loves Raymond had me smiling. A couple friends were checking in to see how I was doing. Russ had set up the humidifier daily. I couldn't believe how grateful I was for a productive cough toward the end of this bout of flu and the eventual reality that this sickness would end.
By that following Monday, I went to work with a renewed sense of a blessed life and gratitude for good health and a husband who genuinely loves me. As if I had risen to new life, I felt like a brand new person and shared it with whoever I encountered. I actually realized and admitted that I love my job. While some days are challenging, what job doesn't have its graces and challenges? I could not stop expressing the love and appreciation I felt toward my co-workers. That Monday was my Easter.
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