And So It Goes

I am wearing a little electronic box around my neck; it's called an event monitor. There's a plug (white) to the right side of my chest; there's a plug (black) to the left side, under my left breastage. It takes readings of my heart as I go about my daily routine. If it senses anything out of the ordinary, it turns itself on and records what's happening. Likewise, if I sense anything out of the ordinary, I can turn it on and record.

"What's this all about?" you may be asking.

Why, thanks for asking. First of all, everything is fine. I got my first EKG taken, I had my first echocardiogram taken, and I took my first stress test. But why was I at a cardiologist's office at all? Well, while I was in Florida, I would have these little... um... 'episodes' where I would feel as though my heart was pounding out of my chest. It wasn't after running a 4-minute mile, it wasn't after reading a scary book, it wasn't even after a particularly stressful visit with my aunt. No, it would happen when I was sitting and knitting in my dad's living room. Or sitting at the mall working on the computer. Or reading in the bedroom. In other words, not doing anything where heart-pounding would ordinarily be expected.

Once I got back home, I had a couple more of these episodes, but they became fewer and farther between, but I was still having them. I figured they were a manifestation of my stress, along with sleeping like a rock for 8 solid hours (I never sleep like that at home), and eating whatever bad food was on the menu (okay, maybe I do that at home). But, DH loves me so, and guilted me into going to the doctor. My GP checked me out, didn't find anything odd, but referred me to a cardiologist who would, we assumed, give me the OK.

So, three visits with the cardiologist: one for the initial exam and baseline EKG, one visit for the echocardiogram (which is really cool), and one visit for the stress test. No surprise to anyone, I just about failed the stress test. Sheeyit, I can walk 'til the cows come home, but not that fast and not at that incline! I did bad, really bad. How bad? The doctor said he had a patient that morning who did the same time as I did - and she was 78 years old. (He probably just said that to make me feel worse than I already did.)

Rx = 30 minutes 'brisk' walking 5 times a week. That means huffin', puffin', and sweatin'. Ugh. I hate exercise. Even when it's disguised as "dancing" or "playing with the Wii." I don't like to sweat. But he said "it's either huff and puff, or get sick." Well, fine.

I also had the event monitor set up after the stress test last Friday; I'll be wearing it for about a month. Just so you know, when you see me, it's okay to point at my chest and laugh. The wires and the monitor make an odd silhouette under my top.

(Yes, I really am okay. All the tests show no incidence of heart problems, and the cardiologist also believes my palpitations were due to stress. But the event monitor will record a minute's worth of my heart if I feel like I'm having another episode, which will allow him to make sure nothing's going wrong. I'm fine.) (But I still hate to exercise.) (And no, knitting doesn't count.) (Dammit.)

Slogging Through

Aunt I seems to have taken a turn for the worse. She went over 16 hours being capped a week-and-a-half ago, apparently with no problems. But the next day, she told the resp therapists at 4 hours that she wanted to stop. Her numbers were fine, she seemed to not be having any problems breathing, she just wanted to stop. (Bear in mind, she needed to go 12 hours a day for 3 days in a row before she could attempt going for 24 hours.)

Well, she worked her way back up in hours and last Thursday around 8:00 in the morning, they were going to start her first 24-hour stint. She did fine through the day, and had a friend of my dad's girlfriend (Trish) come in around 7:30 or 8:00 at night. At 4:30, she said she was doing well enough, that she told Trish to go home; she'd be fine. At 7:30 - 23.5 hours into her first 24-hour capping - her numbers just crashed. Heartbeat, blood pressure, oxygen saturation level - everything went off the charts.

The nurses got her stabilized and put her back on "the blue tube" (oxygen through her trach). Her oxygen number got better, but not as good as it had been. While my dad was visiting over the weekend, he watched as they started to sink even further. They did something else and got her stabilized again, but dad said she didn't look too good and was exceedingly tired.

On Sunday, he got a call from the hospital that her numbers were so bad again that they decided to put her back on the ventilator, and they moved her to an ICU room on the 3rd floor. Last night, dad got another call to tell him that her heart had stopped. It was just for a short time, and they got her revived and stabilized again, so they didn't ask him to come in.

It doesn't look good. I spoke to her pulmonary doctor yesterday; his assessment was that she would never get the trach removed. She is so weak and frail, her system is so compromised, she has so many things going wrong, that the slightest problem will cause her to backslide significantly. He said this latest problem could be a collapsed lung, pneumonia, a plug - they did some blood tests and have her scheduled for an x-ray. She's so weak that even something as simple as having to cough could set her back.

At this point, I'm just praying she's not in too much pain. Please [pray/chant/wish really hard] with me.

Despite this, I was able to find some funny at the LOLCats site. Let's see if I can post the picture and not look like a total loser. (Well, it's there, but I can't figure out how to resize it. Click on it; it should take you to the icanhascheezburger.com site.)


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

I am quite enjoying knitting with Crown Mountain Sock Hop yarn, a SS09 find. Lovely, soft, easy to knit, beautiful color. Pix later.

I'm Done with the Clap!

Clapotis, that is! (Pronounced "clap-oh-tee," as in the french-ish way.) It's purty. It's sparkly. It's sproingy. I likes it. I'll block a small swatch today to see how it (a) bleeds, and (b) takes to blocking. I don't want to wash out all the brightness of the color - which is fairly spectacular, even without the metallic.

This wound up languishing on needles for almost 2 years. When I first started it, I didn't know about the purl-instead-of-use-a-marker trick, but even after I found that little nugget, it still sat for a while. I don't really know why. It's easy, it's fun, it's fairly impressive, and it's fast. I think I had made it through most of the increase section in the first 20 months of its life, and finished the entire rest of it in about 3 weeks.

Purty. See?

Family Jewels and Vegetables

Ah, the Scottish Games... the gathering of the clans... the tossing of the caber... the drone of the bagpipes... the men in kilts... It don't get much better'n that!

DH, Knitterliness, and I went to Pleasanton yesterday to attend the 144th Scottish Games, sponsored by the San Francisco Caledonian Club. They take over the entire Alameda County fairgrounds and are a feast for the senses. There are highland animals to see, sheep dog trials to watch, pipe and drum competitions to listen to, clan representatives to meet (and buy t-shirts from), country dancing and highland dancing to watch (yes, Virginia, there IS a difference!), and haggis to be eaten. There's soccer and shinty, fiddles and harps, cabers and heavy weights, birds of prey and living history demonstrations.

My maternal grandparents were from Scotland, coming over to the United States from Ayr. My grampa was a little older than my grandmother and was here first; my nana came over when she was 16 or 17. Growing up, there was always bagpipe music or old Scottish country songs playing, and we would go see the Tattoo whenever the show came around to Madison Square Garden (a Tattoo is a ceremonial form of evening entertainment performed by military musicians). I grew up accustomed to seeing men in kilts and hearing the drone of the bagpipe, loving both.

So when I moved out to California, I quickly found the Games (held in Santa Rosa when I first moved here, then held in Pleasanton after they outgrew the Santa Rosa venue), and when I need a real 'fix' of my heritage, I go there over Labor Day weekend. The pictures are from this weekend. The big finale of each day is when the massed bands - all the pipe and drum bands who are there to play or compete - assemble in front of the bandstand and play a few tunes. Together. At the same time. 600 bagpipers and drummers this year. And yes, I cry. They always play "Auld Lang Syne," "Scotland the Brave," and "Amazing Grace," but they could be playing just about any old Scottish song and I'll find myself welling up. The closer I am to the pipes, the stronger it is, too, so bear in mind that for the shots of the marching band, I am blubbering like a baby.

The other 2 pictures are the latest fruits of the garden. The watermelon is about baseball-sized now, and the eggplant is... well... it's still kinda small. But it's bigger than the last time we took a picture! At the rate we're going, we should have watermelon for Halloween and ratatouille by Christmas.

Marching Through WIP-land

I'm slowly making my way through my WIP-but-hibernating projects. I just finished the Secret Garden vest yesterday, and have been working on my Clapotis since I came back from Florida in late July. The vest had been on needles since mid-2006; the Clap since late 2007.

What should I pull out next? I'm very tempted to get back into my KnitPicks Faerose Shawl (on needles since 2005), but the Hibito sweater (a recent cast-on - 2008) is a bit more practical and it's further along. Picchu-Picchu was cast on at the same time as Hibito (oh, what grand plans I had for sweaters last winter!), and the two Ice Queens (one in Mmmmmmalabrigo lace, one in GGH Kid Melange) were started early this year.

Hibito, finish it up, then on to the shawl? Or give in to the shawl so I can finally say I've made one? Decisions, decisions!