MY WEIGHT "LOSS" JOURNEY

 

My Heart Attack Saga, Part II

I suffered my heart attack on May 1^st while I was out of town visiting my father in Florida. West coast of the Sunshine State to be exact. Therefore, I had none of my own doctors, my boyfriend was 3000 miles away, and besides my Dad, I knew no one.

To be truthful, the cardiologist and his entire staff were excellent! They all took very good care of me and my heart, explaining everything they were doing, had done, and what I needed to do going forward. I was in a Fort Myers hospital that is known for its cardiac unit.

Their endocrinology department, however, left much to be desired. I’ve been a type 1 insulin-dependent diabetic for 49 years. I used to volunteer for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, giving speeches and helping educate others. In other words, I’m pretty well schooled in this disease.

In addition to that, remember that I JUST had a HEART ATTACK. My first meal in the hospital was dinner, since I was checked in at about 3:00PM. What did they serve me? A big slab of cheesy lasagna. Seriously! I can’t even imagine the carbohydrate count, much less the cholesterol in that sucker. I didn’t eat.

Next came the administration of my insulin. I take 3 different types that each serve a different purpose. My basal dose of Lantus I take in the morning to provide a baseline throughout the day. I’m unusual as most diabetics take that at night, but it works better for me in the a.m. I also take a sliding scale of Humalog; a short acting drug which covers my meals and is based on how many carbohydrates I’m eating. Because I’m unusual the Lantus doesn’t last it’s prescribed 24-hours. It seems to run out on me after about 16. So, at bedtime I take an intermediate acting insulin to carry me through the night.

The way I give myself my short-acting Humalog is to first calculate how many grams of carbohydrates are in the meal I’m about to eat. Let’s say 15 for math purposes. My scale is 1 unit per 7 grams, so that would be 2 units of insulin. But wait! I need to figure out if I need a correction dose. If my blood sugar is trending high, I need to bring it down. My scale for that is 1 unit per 20 points. So, if my glucose reading is 180, and I want it to be 120, I need an additional 3 units bringing to a total of 5 units to take before my meal.

The endocrinology nurse refused to allow me to do that. I quote, “WE don’t do it that way HERE!”. Her method was to test my blood sugar before my meal, give the correction dose, then allow me to eat. Test my sugar again at the NEXT meal and give the correction dose. In effect “chasing” the blood sugar. Reacting instead of being proactive. I explained to her that she was following protocols from the 1970’s and that she’s basically “chasing” the blood sugar. She didn’t want to hear it. I tried to explain that every patient is different, and that I KNOW my own body. I know what works for me. No budging.

My response to this was to simply not eat. I wasn’t going to whack my glucose levels out because she’s uneducated. I drank water, and had a cup of coffee during the 24 hours I was there. Idiots. Bear in mind as well, I did NOT have my CGM any longer, so I was without a test meter or any way to check my own glucose levels. I finally asked my Dad if he could bring back my backup meter and my insulins. I had no idea how long I’d be stuck there!

Back to the wonderful dietician. As if the lasagna weren’t bad enough, the next morning I’m brought bacon and eggs for breakfast! Unbelievable. I just drank the coffee. FINALLY, the staff gave me a menu to order from. Lunch was a salad with a grilled chicken breast. Food!!! I discreetly took my own insulin. I didn’t want to get into THAT all over again.

Meanwhile, my heart, stent and the tiny incision in my wrist were doing wonderfully. I was able to unhook myself from some tubing and go to the bathroom on my own. I couldn’t wait to be released. The first night was horrible, which is par for the course in a hospital. It’s one place you’re guaranteed NOT to sleep. Between the nurses coming in every 10 minutes to poke and prod and the woman across the hallway screaming and moaning it wasn’t a very pleasant experience.

At last, on Sunday afternoon the doctor came in, gave me a once over and said I could go home! Hallelujah! My Dad was right there ready and waiting. First, I had to make a stop at the hospital pharmacy. Joy! I have three new drugs to take. As if 3 different insulins and a strong antihistamine aren’t enough in my repertoire. I’m now on a blood thinner, a baby aspirin, a BETA blocker and a cholesterol lowering drug. CVS loves me.

I spent a total of about 24 hours in the hospital. I also had a follow-up visit at the cardiologist’s office a few days later. I called my job, spoke to HR, and went on short-term disability for a week. They also put in for FMLA for me. Thank God because disability pays peanuts. Not even a quarter of my regular salary.

My Dad and all his friends and neighbors were wonderful and looked after me those two weeks. I had one minor setback. I was incredibly bloated and not losing weight even after skipping meals while in the hospital. I still had a little shortness of breath too. Back to the ER we went. They took a chest X-ray and determined I was retaining water around my heart. Three hours in the hospital bed after getting a diuretic and I was sent home AGAIN.

The problem I now faced was that I had a flight booked for Tuesday, and this was Sunday afternoon. My Dad’s friends, a former flight attendant and a former pilot, knew just what to do. They contacted JetBlue and managed to cancel that flight and get me a credit plus they were able to rebook my trip to New York at an even cheaper price non-stop!

Sadly, my dear, sweet father had purchased beautiful filet mignon steaks to make for me on the grill prior to  my arrival. THAT was now out of the question. I felt so bad. It was one of my favorite meals.  We made the most of the rest of my visit and I helped him pack for his move the best I could. I was cleared to fly, so I finally returned the following Tuesday a week later than I originally had planned. I returned to work that Sunday, as my job is sedentary desk work.

August 1^st marked 3 months after the heart attack, and I’ve lost about 11 pounds without even trying. I’ve cut most animal products out of my diet; no cheese, cow milk, beef or pork. I allow myself a yogurt or two a week, focusing mostly on vegetables, fruit, whole grains, fish, and poultry. I’ve completely quit drinking alcohol. No wine with dinner. Nothing. Just not worth it. If you don’t know alcohol is very high in triglycerides.  Very bad for the arteries! I’ve started walking regularly again after getting cleared by my local cardiologist. He said I did damage to the lower back of my heart. My descending aortic artery was 100% clogged. YIKES! The good news? My last cholesterol reading was a total of 122.