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 my baseline blood pressure reading.
Cardiac rehab is a medically supervised program that helps improve the health and well-being of people who have heart problems. Rehab programs include exercise training, education on heart-healthy living, and counseling to reduce stress and help you return to an active life.
But here’s what surprised me: According to the New England Journal of Medicine, only 10 percent to 20 percent of those eligible for cardiac rehab actually participate in such a program. I’m pleased to say I took my surgeon’s advice (“You will go to rehab, Jennifer”) to get with the program and attend.
Troy Beaumont’s cardiac rehab facility is run like a suburban boot camp. It’s not the marines, but clearly, these folks don’t mess around. Some rules:
-No coffee two hours 2 before your workout because it increases your blood pressure — and they’ll know no matter how much you fib that it was decaf.
-And while you’re at it, don’t eat a huge meal beforehand either.
-A minimum of 12 visits is required, but you can attend up to 36, if you have good insurance.
-There’s an attendance policy, and if you miss more than a week due to work, vacation or just plain inertia, you’re out.
-You must arrive 15 minutes before your scheduled workout time, and if you’re late more than three times … Bye, Felicia.
-If your outfit doesn’t match, you will be mocked. (OK, I made that one up.)
So, even if cardiac rehab isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I decided to begin my journey with the same iconic mantra those handsome high-school footballers used on “Friday Night Lights”: clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
And besides, maybe it will provide a few laughs and new material for my heart journal. It didn’t take long. Meet my first rehab buddy, Talker Tom.
“Well, here we are, all of us in the same boat, recovering from this or that, hoping whatever the surgeons did to us actually works. In my case, I’ve had it all, and nothing worked. But I’m here. Whatever. So, what are you in for?” Tom asked as we sat waiting for our initial blood pressure readings. Five bucks says he’s on the high end.
“Um, well, I’m great,” I replied. “I had a successful mitral valve repair and maze procedure eight weeks ago. Grateful to be here.”
Before he could continue, our exercise physiologist appeared and took my BP. It was 118/70. “That’s really good,” said Taylor, a 20-something tech with boundless energy and a pink Fitbit watch that likely needs constant recharging. “I used to work in food service,” she added, for no apparent reason.
Then, I made my way to the treadmills. I picked the center one between a smiling middle-aged, red-haired woman and a sweaty, wiry middle-aged man. I realized the latter was Talker Tom, now sporting a headband. Crap.
Taylor hooked me up to the safety thingy. Here we go. Twenty minutes on the treadmill, first a 5-minute warmup at 1.5 mph, then 15 minutes at — wait for it! — 2.0 mph! I was anxious but ready.
After the first 10 minutes, Taylor interrupted my inevitable runner’s high to take another BP reading.
“Just keep walking,” she said. “You’re doing fine.” I don’t recall the numbers she shouted to lead tech Jenna seated behind Mission Control. I was sweating, and it wasn’t a hot flash.
Newsflash: There’s a difference between walking around the block cradling your maize and blue University of Michigan heart pillow and keeping pace on a treadmill. Honestly, I felt moderate difficulty, so I sat down to collect myself and drink some water. “What’s next?” I asked Taylor between gulps.
It was a Nustep recumbent cross-training machine, combining a comfortable sitting position with a smooth stepping motion, while simultaneously providing upper and lower body motion to work all of the major muscle groups. Kind of like a natural walking motion but with no stress on your joints. Again, Taylor checked my BP during the workout. I did the required 15 minutes with light difficulty.
Pleased, I hopped on my final machine, the arm bike, which provides a cardiovascular workout without using your legs. The 10 minutes of repeated forward and then backward motion felt pretty good, especially on my right shoulder, chest and back muscles, which hadn’t moved this much since raising a fork at my last meal before surgery.
Overall, my first day at rehab was a positive experience. The professionals monitoring each patient’s progress were knowledgeable and kind yet tough. Here are some random comments overheard during my hour workout:
* “Tricia, your heart sure doesn’t like that last 5 minutes on the machine, does it?”
* “Linda, we can’t believe it’s your last day, and will miss your smiling face.”
* “Pedro, you’ve got 58 seconds left on that treadmill.”
As Joanne, my smart nurse friend and Detroit Tigers baseball aficionado, says: “Rehab, it’s the best part of surgery.”
Looking forward to Monday’s session — right after I get my valet ticket validated.
(Copyright 2018)
