It has been an interesting week. If today is any indication, it could prove to be interesting for a while longer. I’m generally up for a good challenge although, I must admit, I wouldn’t have signed up for this one. But, I guess, if I had thought it through better, I would have known that when I moved my mom to Colorado, extended visits to the hospital were likely to be a part of my immediate future.
If I’m being truthful about it, hospitals scare me. People in physical pain scare me. The sights and sounds and smells scare me. It is all just not my ‘thing.’ Neither are amusements parks (for somewhat similar reasons) but that is a different story.
Like it or not, this week I’ve spent many hours inside the hospital where my mother has been hooked up to various monitors and IV drips and other sundry equipment. When I got the telephone call that she had been transferred to the Intensive Care Unit, I dreaded going there for a number of reasons. Not the least of which was encountering people who were extremely sick. And dying. Including my mother.
As it turned out, it wasn’t as bad as I anticipated. I’ve seen and heard and smelled all manner of things this week that, had you asked, I would have told you I couldn’t handle. But, I can. I guess it is true that we can handle more than we think we can.
Or so I thought. Apparently I can handle the sights and smells. But handling my mother is something all together different.
She was transferred to the cardiac floor after her stay in ICU. Yesterday she just needed to sleep. That was easy. When I arrived today, however, I unwittingly hopped on the erratic-heart-function-rollercoaster, with my mother as the crazy ride operator. Like something out of a horror film.
Did I mention I don’t like amusement parks?
Through a series of events, my mother’s heart rate jumped from a nice, easy going, 55 beats per minute to a terrifying 170 beats per minute in a matter of seconds. Sort of the manic depressive of internal organs.
While nurses scurried to do what they could to bring her heart rate down and people came in the room with EKG machines and blood pressure cuffs and a cardiac physician was ordering medications and tests, my mother seemed unconcerned.
After a couple of episodes of this, she was told she had to lie down and could not sit up. She objected, although prior to the racing heart adventures all she had done was lie down. Suddenly, it became exceedingly important to sit up. When the nurse said she couldn’t sit up because she risked having a stroke, my mother scoffed and said she wasn’t going to have a stroke.
And then it started. She complained. And complained. And complained. This tiny, frail, exceedingly ill, little old lady was ready to hop out of bed and start walking the halls. She was bored. She was restless. They expected her to lie in bed all day? I reminded her that she had been lying in bed all day for the past seven days. What is one more?
Up until that moment she had needed assistance to sit up, move her limbs...pretty much to do anything. I have had to feed her every day! But, once she was told she had to lie in bed she refused, and before I knew what was happening she sat up in bed, swung her spindly little legs over the side and said, “I can’t lie here any longer.” The infection she has been fighting definitely affects her thinking and reasoning, but at that moment she seemed perfectly lucid and with white downy hair standing straight up and the back of her hospital gown gaping open, she was determined to get out of that bed!
I gave her my sternest look and told her to sit right there. I was pretty confident she wasn’t strong enough to stand up on her own but, at that moment, I wasn’t really sure what she was capable of! I proceeded to jog down the hall to the nurse’s station where I informed them of what was happening. Because they could view her heart monitor at the station, they looked at her heart rate and proceeded to run down the hallway to intervene in her great escape and get her to lie back down.
She reluctantly complied and fell asleep. By the time she awoke, the beta blocker she had been given was doing its job and her heart appeared capable of keeping an appropriate and regular rhythm. She was eventually allowed to sit in a chair and that seemed to make her happier.
Up until today, I haven't been sure how she had managed to live through this week. I don’t think anyone really expected her to. Of course, I can’t predict what will happen next, but given the level of determination I saw today, I have the feeling she’s planning to stick around a while longer.
It would be nice, however, if I could stay off the Tilt-a-Whirl for a few days.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
Adventures in Pole Dancing....
I admit that I sometimes do inexplicable things. Well, they aren’t that inexplicable, really. They make sense in my mind. I just can't help myself. I have this irrational fear that I’m going to die having missed the chance to do something fun or interesting at least once. This fear causes me to do things that leave other people wondering what is wrong with me. I avoid the illegal and immoral and I’m, admittedly, a bit of a ninny about dying a painful death so, I generally opt out of the things risking bodily harm. Bungee jumping off a bridge holds no appeal.
But, one day last autumn one of those Living Social coupons arrived in my email box and it was for two pole-dancing classes. Today when I think of pole-dancing I think of Sally O’Mally on Saturday Night Live but for some reason, that morning the idea of taking a pole-dancing class seemed like a good idea. I wasn’t thinking in terms of a career change or anything, but I’d been hearing that this is the newest fitness craze, and it seemed like something fun to try.
Of course, I wasn’t going to go to a pole-dancing class by myself. What fun would that be? I started thinking about who would be a likely candidate to join me on this adventure. My friend Shelly came to mind immediately. If I want to do something ‘different’ Shelly is typically game. So, I purchased two pole-dancing class vouchers for $15 and called Shelly to tell her I had a fabulous birthday gift for her.
Her response was less than thrilled. It was more along the lines of, “You want me to do what?” Eventually, she got used to the idea, or maybe she was resigned to it, I’m not sure. Regardless, I made a reservation for our class and we made our plans to go.
When we arrived at the studio the surroundings were a bit disconcerting. It was located right next to a bar. Now, is that really a good idea? Granted, the classes are supposed to be for fitness… but still.
We entered the dimly lit studio in our sweatpants and t-shirts and wended our way through the scantily clad 20-something-year olds. Hmmmm. I began to rethink the wisdom of this idea. I scanned the room for anyone else even remotely close to my age. I scanned again. Nope. Nobody. Expect for Shelly. But even she is five-years younger! A quick review of my options left me with leaving (which I had no intention of doing), or embracing the experience.
I went with embracing.
The class started with some stretches and then moved into some interesting wriggling and writhing movements which pretty much just served to make us laugh. Perhaps we are immature. Or, perhaps the whole thing just looked ridiculous. I’m not sure which. Things really got silly, though, when the instructor told us to crawl seductively across the floor.
The hardwood floor.
Now exactly how seductive can one look crawling along a hardwood floor in sweatpants, while wincing and yelping, “ouch?” It just wasn’t working for me. Shelly suggested that, were I to try this again, I might want to invest in some of those knee pads roofers wear.
Yes, that would add to the seductive look I already had going!
Maybe I could have crawled seductively across a hardwood floor when I was 20. I don’t recall feeling the need to do so but, maybe my knees would have protested less then. I’m not sure my knees would have thought the whole thing was any less foolish, however.
In the end, Shelly and I had a really hard time taking this whole notion of pole fitness seriously. We laughed more than we exercised. At first everyone in the room seemed very serious-minded about their pole-dancing. After a while, though, we added enough comic relief that they seemed to take themselves a little less seriously. Maybe that was our contribution.
I know pole fitness is the latest ‘thing.’ And I gave it a try. Honestly. I did. The laughter did my soul good, but I’m pretty sure a good healthy walk or a yoga class would benefit my body more.
I don’t believe I’ll need to try that again.
But, one day last autumn one of those Living Social coupons arrived in my email box and it was for two pole-dancing classes. Today when I think of pole-dancing I think of Sally O’Mally on Saturday Night Live but for some reason, that morning the idea of taking a pole-dancing class seemed like a good idea. I wasn’t thinking in terms of a career change or anything, but I’d been hearing that this is the newest fitness craze, and it seemed like something fun to try.
Of course, I wasn’t going to go to a pole-dancing class by myself. What fun would that be? I started thinking about who would be a likely candidate to join me on this adventure. My friend Shelly came to mind immediately. If I want to do something ‘different’ Shelly is typically game. So, I purchased two pole-dancing class vouchers for $15 and called Shelly to tell her I had a fabulous birthday gift for her.
Her response was less than thrilled. It was more along the lines of, “You want me to do what?” Eventually, she got used to the idea, or maybe she was resigned to it, I’m not sure. Regardless, I made a reservation for our class and we made our plans to go.
When we arrived at the studio the surroundings were a bit disconcerting. It was located right next to a bar. Now, is that really a good idea? Granted, the classes are supposed to be for fitness… but still.
We entered the dimly lit studio in our sweatpants and t-shirts and wended our way through the scantily clad 20-something-year olds. Hmmmm. I began to rethink the wisdom of this idea. I scanned the room for anyone else even remotely close to my age. I scanned again. Nope. Nobody. Expect for Shelly. But even she is five-years younger! A quick review of my options left me with leaving (which I had no intention of doing), or embracing the experience.
I went with embracing.
The class started with some stretches and then moved into some interesting wriggling and writhing movements which pretty much just served to make us laugh. Perhaps we are immature. Or, perhaps the whole thing just looked ridiculous. I’m not sure which. Things really got silly, though, when the instructor told us to crawl seductively across the floor.
The hardwood floor.
Now exactly how seductive can one look crawling along a hardwood floor in sweatpants, while wincing and yelping, “ouch?” It just wasn’t working for me. Shelly suggested that, were I to try this again, I might want to invest in some of those knee pads roofers wear.
Yes, that would add to the seductive look I already had going!
Maybe I could have crawled seductively across a hardwood floor when I was 20. I don’t recall feeling the need to do so but, maybe my knees would have protested less then. I’m not sure my knees would have thought the whole thing was any less foolish, however.
In the end, Shelly and I had a really hard time taking this whole notion of pole fitness seriously. We laughed more than we exercised. At first everyone in the room seemed very serious-minded about their pole-dancing. After a while, though, we added enough comic relief that they seemed to take themselves a little less seriously. Maybe that was our contribution.
I know pole fitness is the latest ‘thing.’ And I gave it a try. Honestly. I did. The laughter did my soul good, but I’m pretty sure a good healthy walk or a yoga class would benefit my body more.
I don’t believe I’ll need to try that again.
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