“Oh, great, it’s the braless wonder. Who does she think she’s kidding? Look at her; she’s totally out of control.” – Elaine in the 1996 “Seinfeld” episode where she runs into her high school friend-turned-nemesis, Sue Ellen Mischke. It’s time to end the cover-up. Call TMZ for a full exposé. In this age of alternative facts, I’m compelled to come clean: I’ve gone braless for months. That’s right. A regular bra hurts my scar; even a running bra is uncomfortable enough to make me gag. Not surprisingly, in French a bra is called a soutien-gorge (literally, “throat-supporter”). Early versions resembled a camisole stiffened with boning. Sign me up. (Gentlemen, you may…
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Low-impact rewards
There’s more than just sweat on the tiny white Detroit Tigers rally towel I used to wipe my sparkling forehead throughout last Thursday’s Jazzercise workout. Maybe some tears, too. It was my first day back in six months, after stopping to focus on preparation for May 31 heart valve surgery. I was actually nervous before class. Somehow worried that I’d forgotten how to plié or chasse or, worse yet, participate at all. How silly is that? Not entirely after what we’ve been through. Time flies, but muscle memory fades after 50. Of course, I stood in my old spot (upper left corner, front row) under the ceiling fan right next…
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Mood swings
Today marks four months post-op. Might be a good time to talk about something most of us would rather ignore: cardiac depression. In summer 2001, I had open-heart surgery to remove a tumor the size of a tennis ball from both atriums. After seven weeks, I returned to work. Life was good, except it really wasn’t. At 41, my body overcame the physical challenges of heart surgery. Yet I felt sad, irritable, anxious and overwhelmed. I just wasn’t myself. Perhaps, I reasoned, this lingering dark cloud was from the horrors of 9/11, an unthinkable tragedy occurring the week before my medical leave ended. The world had gone mad, and terrorists…
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Meet and greet
If it’s Thursday, it must be time for … Education Monday. But first, I’d like you to meet some of my cardiac rehab pals. Most of the heart warriors in my 11 a.m. Monday-Wednesday-Friday group are north of age 70. I am, at 58, known as the “Kid.” Not complaining. The cast of characters (and I mean that): There’s my good buddy, Sir Charles, a soft-spoken retired GM welder who underwent a quadruple bypass earlier this year. At 81, he’s a devoted baseball fan who has aptly dubbed the Detroit Tigers 2018 team “those bums.” There’s Hilarious Harvey, 73, a triple bypass and stroke patient who uses a foldable vinyl…
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Why a thoracotomy?
Happy Saturday. For those who are still puzzled as to why I underwent a thoracotomy instead of a sternotomy or less-invasive procedure, here’s a great explanation from my surgeon via his cardiac nurse at the University of Michigan Frankel Cardiovascular Center in Ann Arbor: “Dr. Bolling went in via a right thoracotomy so that he would not have to cut back in through all the scar tissue that built up between your sternum and the front of your heart from your last surgery (in 2001). If he had gone back in through the front, you would be under anesthesia longer because he has to be extremely meticulous when cutting through…
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Dream Cruiser
I’m from Detroit. They don’t call us the Motor City just because we build cars. Motown creates dreams that celebrate those cars. If you’re from Detroit, you know what I’m talking about. If not, let me explain. It’s been a dream of mine to drive my own classic car in the annual Woodward Dream Cruise. Today, I finally did it. On this hot and steamy third Saturday in August, 16 miles of Woodward Avenue was the place to be — from Ferndale to Pontiac — as car buffs and classic car owners hit the streets. Known internationally, for 24 years the Dream Cruise has drawn hundreds of thousands to the…
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Friday’s education Monday
Did you know that just one hour of walking can increase your life expectancy by two hours? Now they tell me. If it’s Friday, then it must be time for education Monday. This week’s topic at cardiac rehab was Exercise Principles. Not surprisingly, smoking is the No. 1 preventable risk factor for heart disease. Nearly every heart patient in my cardiac rehab class is a former long-term smoker. They all regret it. If you’ve quit smoking, bravo! Just one year after stopping, you have cut your risk for heart disease in half. And after being smoke-free for 15 years, your risk is similar to those who have never smoked before.…
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De-stress
So, a guy walks into his psychiatrist’s office and says, “Doc, I’m so upset. I don’t know if I’m a wigwam or a teepee.” “Relax,” the shrink says. “You’re too tense.” Bada-bing, bada-boom! Whether it’s stress from being multiple tents or just plain tense, our busy lives contain way too much of it. And I’ll bet since you subscribe to a heart valve surgery website, you already knew that. But did you know there’s good and bad stress? Welcome to Education Mondays at cardio rehab. Last week’s topic was Stress Management. (This Monday’s was Risk Factors for Cardiovascular Disease. As if. I won’t preach to the choir on that subject.)…
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Validation
Yesterday I arrived exactly 15 minutes early to prepare for my first cardiac rehabilitation workout at Troy Beaumont Hospital. This alone is a minor miracle in July, where Michigan motorists routinely dodge orange barrels amid road construction at virtually every turn. This is also known as summer. On top of that, there were no regular spaces in the hospital’s west entrance lot, and the parking garage was full. So, I opted for valet. (Don’t judge me. Next time, I’ll ride my bike. Probably.) After checking in and attaching three sticky electrodes to my chest, I placed the EKG telemetry monitor in its handy white pouch around my neck and awaited…
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What’s up, doc?
The calendar alert on my phone startled me: “SIX WEEKS!” Wow. Time flies when you’re healing. So yes, today marks 42 days since my open-heart surgery and five weeks since I was discharged from the hospital. On that sunny June 6 as Rebecca pushed me in the Wolverine maize and blue wheelchair outside to the car, I gazed up at the clear blue sky and cried tears of joy. Lisa, the attendant who assists departing patients, gently put her arm on mine. She actually remembered us from five days earlier when we had checked in at the University of Michigan Frankel Cardiovascular Center in Ann Arbor. “You good, baby?” she…
