Emily M. DeArdo

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Jinx

healthEmily DeArdoComment

Man I hate it when I jinx myself…

So I write a post about how to live Lent when life is Lent-y, and I think, oh this hasn’t happened for awhile…

AND THEN IT HAPPENS.

Sigh. I bring these things upon myself!

Well, not really. It has been a very long time since I’ve had any sort of pulmonary infection issues so I was probably due, to be honest. But I’m doing a course of oral antibiotics and it’s working beautifully, so I feel much better. I’m still dealing with some lingering chest pain, but I know that will get better as the rest of my body heals. I have a week to go on the antibiotics and I’m being very intentional right now in giving my body what it wants (liquids, rest, stretches!) and adding back my Peloton workouts when it feels right to do it. I’m hoping to jump back in with yoga this week (short classes!) to help get some mobility back to my lower right chest, because that’s where the pain was, and I need to start opening that area back up with some good (gentle!) stretches.

I’ve also learned that I can have a lung infection and my blood glucose will be fine. That’s weird, but oh well, t least I know now. The more I learn about blood glucose the more I realize it really is a crazy thing!

So the reason it’s been quiet around here is because of all of the above. I’m very glad to be on the upswing!

Currently on the needles: a long shawl with an interesting construction, which is being knit up in silk! I’ve never knit with silk before and I’m really enjoying it.



Living Lent when your life is pretty Lent-y!

Emily DeArdoComment

There have been a lot of times in my life when Lent rolls around, people ask me what I’m doing for Lent, and I’m thinking, “MY LIFE IS CURRENTLY LENT.” (Not the case this year.)

February and March used to be pretty “sick” times in my life—it was near the end of the school year so my body was getting tired of the early wakes and the heavy schedule. I’d be doing IV antibiotics, or I’d have TB (That was a fun Lent!), or I was in the hospital for some sort of other thing or another.

Life was pretty Lenty.

Pre-transplant, I was not allowed to fast. And I’m not allowed to fast now because I’m diabetic. There was a, oh, five year period where I could fast, and I tried it, and wow, I was so not good at it. Really, really bad.

But all this to say that some years, your Lent chooses you, and you really might not have to do much else.

If you’re in that position, don’t be hard on yourself. Remember what happened to St. Teresa of Avila: One Lent, she had all these great plans for the Lord. She was going to suffer ALL THE THINGS! She was going to do ALL THE PENANCES!

And then she got sick and was in bed for all of Lent. And she decided to complain to the Lord about this.

“Lord,” she said, “I had all these GREAT IDEAS FOR LENT and then you RUINED THEM. (I’m paraphrasing.)”

“That was your plan for Lent,” He said. “This is my plan for your Lent.”

Oh. Well then.

St. Teresa did not do all the things.

It’s OK if you can’t make it to stations every Friday or daily Mass or do whatever other penance you’ve come up with. Bodies can be super dumb. Or, sometimes, what the Lord wants from you is something else.

Either way, don’t beat yourself up if your life is super Lent-y at the moment and you cannot do ALL THE THINGS! Do what you can do, offer up what you can’t, and remember St. Teresa.

Blogmas '22 Day 5: How to Pack Your Meds When You Fly!

blogmas, health, travelEmily DeArdoComment

From my trip to Houston this summer

I’ve been reading the coverage of the Southwest Fiasco, and what’s really scared me more than anything else is the comments from many people about PUTTING MEDICATION IN CHECKED BAGGAGE.

PEOPLE.

Never, ever, ever put your medications and medical devices in your checked baggage! EVER!

I always put my meds in my carry-on, which is an LL Bean backpack. Always. They are in a large zip-up pouch. I also take extra medicine, just for purposes like this fiasco, where you’re stuck somewhere—the last thing I want to worry about is my medication and my health. So I also pack the entire bottle of medication, in the pharmacy bottle, so if I have to take it somewhere to get refilled, I can do that and it will have all the information a new pharmacy would need to fill it.

(Some people say, “well, just have your doctor call it in to the new pharmacy!” Over the holidays, it might be hard to get your doctor’s office on the phone!)

My insulin, insulin supplies, blood glucose kit, and my cochlear implant batteries and charger also go in my carry-on, always.

Does this take up space in my bag? Yes. Does it mean I can’t fly with just carry-ons? Also yes. I must check a bag.

But it’s much easier to check a bag than it is to lose medications, get them replaced, and, oh, worry about my body going into meltdown while I’m stuck somewhere!

I didn’t fly a lot pre-transplant, mostly because it was hard to do with my CF related machinery (aerosol machine, nebulizer, etc.) , but I have a travel size aerosol machine that I used when I did fly or travel, and it could fit in a backpack and wasn’t terribly heavy. I could also fit the supplies in my bag. So if I had to carry those around now, I could do it (They have much smaller ones now than they did in the year 1999!)

Folks. I beg you. Never, ever, EVER put your medications and medical supplies in your checked bags. Never in life. Do not do it. Pay to check the bag. NEVER EVER put your medicines in a place where you can’t get them.

Medicine, Accommodation, and Rudeness

CF, health, hearing lossEmily DeArdoComment

“October Day”, Jean Charles Cazin, oil on canvas

This is sort of a hodgepodge of medical things that have been bouncing around in my brain, that I wanted to share with you. But it seems connected to me, somehow.

Thought 1: Needing Medication Isn’t A Bad Thing

Not everything, alas, can be fixed by diet, by getting more sleep, or by exercising, or praying more. Sometimes people need actual medical treatment, and that can include medication. This is not a failure, and this doesn’t make you a bad person. I feel like we especially feel like taking medication for a mental health condition is somehow shameful. It is not.

Connected to that is that medications have side effects. A lot of people treat this as a reason to avoid medications at all costs. However, that’s not feasible. At some point in your life, you’re going to need medication, whether it’s Tylenol for your headache or chemo for cancer.

Side effects are to be weighed by the overall good of the medication. For example: Prednisone has a ton of side effects. But it also keeps me alive. So, me staying alive outweighs the fact that it messes with my body’s ability to process glucose, that it causes weight gain, and etc. (However it also keeps my voice in great shape and my joints happy, so I feel like I’m winning here!)

Insulin can also cause side effects but without it, I will be in bad shape.

Everything has potential side effects, from water to the latest wonder drug.

Now sometimes, side effects make it not worth it to continue a medication. For instance, my body cannot tolerate statins, and when I took them, they didn’t impact my cholesterol anyway. So it wasn’t worth me taking the meds and dealing with the side effects for something that wasn’t doing its job!

So if you need medication, that’s OK. Be sure to talk to your doctor about the side effects, if you experience any, and if that makes taking the medicine intolerable.

But to say that medication shouldn’t be taken because it has side effects is…. silly. They’re something to consider obviously. But it’s not a blanket statement you can make.

You have to educate yourself and weigh the pros and cons.

Two: The Question of Accommodation

Recently there’s been a lot of talk about this due to the Fetterman interview (if you’re not familiar with it—Pennsylvania senate candidate John Fetterman (D) had a stroke earlier this year. In an interview with NBC news, he required captioning software so that he could understand the questions the journalist was asking, due to a sensory processing problem due to the stroke.) As such, there’s been a lot of commentary in the social media world about whether or not the reporter would’ve commented on his abilities (or disabilities) if, say, he’d been wearing glasses or been in a wheelchair—or if he was deaf.

Now, I have a little experience in this area. So I have thoughts—obviously.

First off, the only accommodation that most people seem to have no issue with is a person wearing glasses or contacts. It’s so common that everyone just accepts it as a thing and no one says anything. (However, that’s not true when it comes to things like large-print books, menus, signs, etc.)

This isn’t true for anything else. Hearing aids are often rejected because people don’t want to look “old” or like they’re impaired in any way. Only about one-third of people with hearing loss wear hearing aids. Insurance doesn’t cover hearing aids like it covers glasses, soething that I think is ridiculous (and is somewhat ameliorated by the fact that now you can get them over the counter). But hearing loss is also connected to dementia and Parkinson’s disease if it’s not corrected. There are lots of reasons to wear a hearing aid—but a lot of people don’t.

During COVID, a lot of us hearing impaired people were totally lost when communicating, because of masks. I still can’t go to a medical appointment and not wear a mask, which means I am often lost when it comes to what my doctor is saying! But there isn’t any accommodation. This extends to things like movies and TV, where not everything is captioned (or captioned correctly), to getting pushback when I make the argument for microphones and telecoil systems in church because it’s not…aesthetically pleasing.

Many public places aren’t accessible to a wheelchair uses, or someone who is on crutches or uses a walker or canes, because there’s no switch plate on the doors.

Accommodation is limited. How often do you see a braille menu, for example? How many places don’t have a telecoil system to allow hearing aid and cochlear implant users to understand things better?

But when these are asked for, they’re brushed off as “too expensive” or “impractical”.

So, the fact that Fetterman used captions for his interview isn’t really an issue. When I’ve done radio interviews I ask for the questions ahead of time so I can get an idea of what I’ll be asked. Most places will send me a list of questions that will be asked—sometimes more than we actually answer in the interview!

The issue here, in my opinion, is the difference between a physical disability and a cognitive disability. Wearing contacts and a cochlear implant don’t impede my cognitive functioning. My brain is just fine. Surely no one would say that Stephen Hawking was cognitively impaired! But there is a difference, and most people don’t get that (the same as not understanding that there are people in ICUs every day of the year).

The idea that people don’t make assumptions about people with disabilities isn’t true. I’ve had people talk to my parents instead of me when I’m in the room. When I had my new port put in, one of the nurses asked Dad something about me—I was “her” in this discussion—when she could have asked me, and if I didn’t understand her, Dad would’ve told me what she said. People talk around you but not to you. It happens all the time, to just about everyone who has something “wrong” with them that doesn’t involve wearing glasses.

Is Fetterman capable to serve in the Senate? I don’t know. That’s for the voters of Pennsylvania to decide. The answer might be clearer if updated, detailed medical records or statements were released. I do hope, however, that we can have some real conversations about disability, different kinds of disability, and accommodation, because we don’t have them as a society, and we need to.

But we also need to understand, as disabled people, that there are things we can’t do. I, for example, couldn’t do a job that included phone work. I’d be lost! I will never be able to climb Mt. Everest! That’s not “dissing” myself. It’s stating things that are true.

The discussion around disability is complex and fraught, but we need to have it.

Three: RUDENESS!

People, never comment on what someone is eating, OK?

There is a common misconception about diabetics that we can’t ever eat carbohydrates or sugar.

That is totally wrong. We can, nay, we must, at certain points, have carbs! If I didn’t give my body carbohydrates on a daily basis, it would get very angry with me. There are times when I must have them or I will faint, or go into a coma! Or DIE. (NOT KIDDING)

So there are times when we must have carbohydrates, be that juice, or candy, or cake, or pizza.

We can also have them just as a matter of course—we have to dose for it with insulin, like we do everything else. I eat ice cream and cake and cookies. I’m allowed to have them (like everyone else, in moderation!).

Sometimes my body decides we must have sugar right now, and that’s in church. It’s not great, but it happens. It does not break the Eucharistic fast. It isn’t disrespectful to the Lord. I have sugar packets, Skittles, and Sour Patch Kids in my purse for these occasions, as well as hard candies.

So if you see someone that you know is diabetic eating candy, or drinking juice, or having a brownie, don’t assume that she can’t have it, because she can.

Sometimes I have had to ask people to get me juice if I’m having a low and I’m still dropping, because I don’t trust my hands to not spill it. In that case, people get it for me, I drink the juice, and life continues.

But please don’t ask us if “we can have” a cookie or candy. We can. And we might need to have it immediately!

Thus endeth the medical lesson!

New port is in!

CF, healthEmily DeArdoComment

Hospital lobby at 6:45 AM :)

The port is dead, long live the port!

So last Thursday I had my old port—17 years, RIP!—taken out, and a new POWER PORT put in! (Power ports enable me to get things like contrast for CT scans through my port instead of trying to find a vein for that. They’re GOOD!)

This was a sort of complicated thing, because it involved both sides of my chest. I wasn’t sure where they’d put the new port, and the doctors decided to put it on my right side. So they had to take out the old port—which was buried pretty well, because I weighed ninety pounds when it was put in!—and then put in the new port on the right side, which apparently is the “preferred side” for port placement. Whatever!

This wasn’t done in an OR or under general anesthesia, like my first one was. This was “twilight sedation”, which is what I get for my bronchoscopies—you’re sedated, but you can still talk and respond to commands. I don’t remember anything from the actual procedure. They apparently had to give me more sedation than they thought, probably for two reasons: one, they had to go int through my neck to place the new port and I HATE having my neck messed with, and two, my face was covered by the surgical drape, and I don’t like that either. I was sort of freaking out about that when I fell asleep, so I’ not surprised my subconscious was still freaking out.

(It’s weird. I don’t mind masks and things on my face—like aerosol or oxygen masks. But if I’m flat on my back I hate it. I don’t know why. It’s a thing!)

Anyway, we were home by lunch time. The dressings are off, and now I have steri-strips, instead of stitches, that are still healing. This limits my ability to turn my head and how I move my upper body, which is a bit annoying, and of course impairs driving (can’t turn my head all the way to see things).

I’m not in a lot of pain which is nice. Sleeping is still sort of hard. But fortunately this week is entirely clear so I can just hang out at home and work on knitted Christmas gifts and read while things heal up.

So, I’m doing fine, glad to have my new port!

Therapy

CF, healthEmily DeArdoComment

(No, not that kind of therapy.)

So I had my seventeenth yearly post transplant checkup (well really 16th, since there wasn’t one when I first got my new lungs, haha). It went well. My numbers are rock solid and perfection. “Everything’s coming up roses!”

But.

(You knew there was a but.)

As you probably know, I do not like exercise. I missed out on the genetic lottery in this sense—my brother runs marathons (Boston, New York, etc.) and coaches cross country. My sister played high school and college tennis, runs, and her husband (who is not connected to me genetically, obviously, but still) runs marathons as well, and my sister in law was a gymnast, and also runs. I am surrounded by super fit people who like to work out and are good at doing things with their bodies.

I am….not.

Now, over the this year, I’ve been working at getting better at working out because I know I need to be in better shape. At my clinic visit, my transplant coordinator said I absolutely have to be working out 5 times a week for 30 minutes. Must. Have to. Non-negotiable.

Then she said the magic thing. “Just think of it as doing your CF therapies.”

CF therapies—or “therapy” as we called it in our house—consist of nebulizer treatments and doing the vest or other postural drainage techniques (PT) to get the sticky mucus out of the lungs. This took, at minimum, 30-45 minutes, twice a day. In the evening it took longer because I did another nebulizer med, and if I was doing inhaled antibiotics, it could easily take 90 minutes to two hours. This was twice, or three times, a day. Every day.

I had never thought about exercise as being a “replacement” for daily therapy. Because honestly, therapy wasn’t fun. I mean it could be—I could watch movies and things while it was on—but I couldn’t really do homework because if I looked down the nebulizer could drip on my work or the textbook; I couldn’t read because of the vest vibrations (shaking books!). I could do some work on a computer though, and I did that more often in the early 2000s (pre-transplant). But it was a pain.

Exercise is once a day, for thirty minutes, which is way less daily time than the therapies took. It’s one and done. I don’t have to like it, but I do have to do it, the same way I did therapy.

For some reason I had never made this connection. But once it was made, it….made sense.

So I am almost a week into this and it’s been….not bad. I’m using the Peloton app, because it adds music and fun instructors, and it’s captioned (hallelujah!), and it tracks my heart rate on the screen so I don’t have to be looking at my watch all the time. (I do not have a Peloton machine. I use the machines in the complex gym—there’s no bike there, so it’s all treadmill stuff.)

Right now because I’m starting with 20 minutes on the treadmill, five times a week.

I don’t have to like it, but I do have to do it. Because I want to be here for Patty and Maddie and new baby DeArdo. That’s worth it to me. (And hello, there are Broadway themed walks, sign me up.)

So, here we go.

"Life, London, this moment of June"

fun, health, journalEmily DeArdoComment

OK, I’m not in London. (The quote is from Mrs. Dalloway, one of my favorite novels.)

And June can actually be a really hard month for me, because there’s been a lot of medical crap that went down in June. (And I actually have a squamous cell carcinoma that needs removed—that’s next month—that I just found out about, but honestly, I don’t really care, we’ll handle it)

But this June? This June has been pretty fun.

Patty discovers…THE TENT.

I’m going to see Patty and her siblings!

Peanut (Patty’s newest sibling) is growing well! S/he is due in October.

It might be really hot, but it’s super pretty. This I the view from my porch. I love sitting here and reading at night. Right now I’m re-reading Emma* as part of the Jane Summer Re-Read.

Tiffany and I went to see the Columbus Symphony play at a local church as part of their summer night music programming. Cheaper tickets, don’t have to drive downtown, and don’t have to pay to park? Count me in. It was a beautiful program!

How’s your summer going so far?


In Which Emily is Completely Honest: A Hospital Tale

CF, healthEmily DeArdo3 Comments

The results of said Hospital Tale

At almost forty, and with 39 1/2 years of medical intervention under my belt, there is very little that I have not yet done in hospitals.

Procedures don’t really surprise me. What surprises me—and dismays me—is crappy staff.

As you all know, most of my medical experiences have been in a pediatric setting (yes, even when I was in my late 30s). In peds, there are many things that should be passed on to adult hospitals when it comes to how you treat medically complex patients. And, indeed, one of my big worries about moving to New Resort was that they wouldn’t know how to treat me.

This has been born out in a lot of ways, but especially in Today’s Tale!

Settle in.

*

On the first Tuesday of the year, I had a colonoscopy. Not the best way to start the year. And yes, I’m not even 40, let alone 50, so why, you may ask, was I having one? Because people with CF are at a higher risk for colon cancer, so we start our screenings earlier.

Now, I have determined (this is in no way scientific, just based on anecdotal evidence) that there are two main types of CF: The CF I had, which is where everything else works and your lungs are CRAP (to put it nicely) or, your lungs are OKish, and everything else is CRAP—mainly your digestive system. This is where the colon cancer it comes in. I have the first type of CF—once I got new lungs, my CF was pretty much….resolved, in the sense that the rest of my body works pretty darn well. Yes, I still have CF, and will until I die, but I’m not doing chest PT every day, I’m not taking albuterol and pulmozyme, and I do not take any CF specific meds. My diabetes is called CF related diabetes, but it really isn't. That’s just the easiest thing to say, instead of “post-transplant steroids + menopause related diabetes”.

Anyway, all this to say, I don’t really need a colonoscopy. But I had one because I’m a good girl.

So the prep was better this time—I only vomited once!—and we got the desired results on that end.

But then I had to deal with….staff.

*

Ask just about any nurse who has had me and they will tell you I am a good patient. I am polite. I don’t hit them (important in peds!). I don’t call them names, I don’t swear at them, I don’t blame them for things that are not their fault.

However.

We had been told to go to Main Campus to get my colonoscopy because they could access my port.

Hahahahah. They didn’t.

You’re probably saying, Emily just shut up and tell the story.

OK.

So I get there. I go back. One nurse is hunting for an IV spot and one is trying to check me in—running through my meds and such. This is all done with masks on, and the door is open, so there’s a lot of noise because this is a “factory” setting endoscopy unit—move people in, move people out. As in, they don’t know your history, they don’t really care about your history, they just want to cycle you through.

I have a hard time understanding the nurses, so I tell them this.

The first nurse looks at my port and I said, “but if you don’t want to try it, we can put in a peripheral, I have good veins in my right shoulder.”

She doesn’t use those veins. She hunts. She fails.

Now, the first thing is that she’s using a not tiny needle. You must use tiny needles on my veins because my veins are shit.

They call in the anesthesiologist. He doesn’t want to do the ones in my shoulder. (Now, why he was being asked, I have no idea. But he was!)

So after this nurse says, “Well, we can do ultrasound guided IV. I know you don’t like them….” (I had mentioned this.)

I HATE ultrasound guided IV. Here’s why: Instead of going for a surface vein, you’re going into the arm.

INTO. Under the skin, INTO THE ARM.

Think about that for a second. NOT FUN.

Nurse doesn’t want to try my port. I’m…..not sure why.

So I submit.

To six of these.

Anyway throughout all these tries, I am not happy. I am further lead into unhappiness by the following comments:

“Has anyone ever told you you have thick skin?” (I do, but not the way she means, and I don’t)

“Why are you crying?” (BECAUSE IT HURTS YOU IDIOT).

And my favorite, “Are you afraid of needles?”

This is where Emily Honesty came out. “No. And if I ever was, I would’ve had to have gotten over by the time I was five.” Because, you see, I was getting monthly blood draws for my anti-seizure meds when I was a wee bairn. I didn’t mention that I stick myself eight times a day for insulin, so if I was afraid of needles my life would be insanely difficult.

Mr. Anesthesiologist comes in again.

“Well we’ll just have to put one in your neck.”


I have had an IV in my neck, when I was 19 and we needed it there to save my freaking life. Other than that, NO.

So I said that. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Well then you can’t get the procedure.”

“I don’t care. You are not using my neck.”

He shrugs and leaves.

So then we have two more tries, from “good people.”

The first one blamed me for moving during the IV try. Then she looks at my port. “Have they tried that"?”

“Once.”

“I can try it.”

“OK sure. I need a 1.5 inch needle.”

“Oh, we only have a one inch.”

Dad and I drove down to Main Campus because they could access my port and now you’re telling me that in one of the top medical centers in the nation you don’t have a bigger needle?!

No, dear reader. They had a bigger needle. She didn’t want to get one. Let’s be real here. Hem/Onc (hematology/oncology) has bigger needles. I know they do. We use them all the time when I get labs drawn here from my port.

But this woman didn’t want to go find one.

In peds, she would have, or someone would have, if she was a particularly nasty nurse and didn’t want to go get one. I know this, because it happened a lot. If we didn’t have a needle, or we needed help with my port, one of my nurses would call up to hem/onc, who would come over, and then do their thing.

But no, we can’t do that. Why care about patients? Why try to make things easier for everyone?

I left her try with the one inch, no idea why—she didn’t get it, of course, and I said, “well I knew it wouldn’t work.”

The last dude comes in. He gets it, finally. Led to that bruise which topped the post.

I get the colonoscopy. The results are fine.

But I am not having another one.

*

Here’s why.

I only have so much vein “real estate” at this point. I’m probably going to need a new port, because the hospital nurses are not trained in accessing the one I have, although the ones at the lab can do it. (This is shitty training, if you ask me.) You are not using my neck. And I don’t want to give up good veins or things that are not really, truly important. For example, a CT scan with contrast can be important. A colonoscopy? Nope. (Yes. I know. Colon cancer. Etc. etc.)

Two, I’m tired of breaking in new people. I’m tired of explaining to them why I have a port, why I’m getting a test done. I’m tired of them messing around with my body and being generally incompetent. I’m tired of having to deal with this, quite frankly.

This is where peds is so much better. In peds, they understand that you might be complicated. Here, they expect everyone to be easy when they’re my age and are shocked when they’re not. They don’t know how to handle a patient like me. And I don’t want to be their guinea pig anymore. Instead of trying to understand me, they get frustrated because I’m not an easy patient. Well gee, I’m sorry.

I also don’t want to put up with stupid questions (SEE ABOVE!) anymore. I just don’t have it in me.

One of the things the nurses kept saying to me was , “Well, you know, if you don’t want to do this we don’t have to.”

I finally said, “Half of my life is doing things I don’t want to do, this is no different.”

And that’s probably an overestimate, but it’s true. “What I want to do” isn’t even in the decision making graph for me. It’s what do I have to do. I didn’t want to be doing this at all but I knew if I didn’t, I’d get reamed out by my doctor. (I’m going to have a talk with him when I see him in June, just about how I’m not really doing this anymore.) “Want to” doesn’t factor into it, lady.

I am proud of myself for standing my ground on the neck thing. That’s my line and we’re not going over it.

I am, however, really frustrated at how this hospital treats medically complex patients like me.

Blogmas Day 11: Public Service Announcements!

blogmas, healthEmily DeArdoComment

To make this more fun, I give you: John Denver and the Muppets at the start.

So by the time you’re reading this, I’ll be at the hospital having a colonoscopy because I know how to start the year right! :-P

No, this isn’t a cause for concern—it’s regular screening because people with CF have higher rates of colon cancer. So we get to enjoy the special fun.

Anyway, the PSAs are: make your doctor appointments. Right now. Put them in the book. Schedule them.

If you’re a lady who is 40, it’s time to get mammograms! If you have breast cancer in you family, you need to get them earlier! They’re not bad, just do them!

Eye appointments, dentist appointments, all the appointments—make them. Do it.

And that is all I have for you today :)

FYI: The 12th day will be delayed due to the colonoscopy, but it will be out this week!)

(Well, and a Patty picture)

Patty and Dolly at the park! (With brother Frankie)

Margin

Advent, essays, health, transplantEmily DeArdo1 Comment

Are you a person who needs permission to relax?

I am one of those people. Not to relax, per se, but to build in margin? To give yourself a break? That’s a problem I’ve always had. In some ways it’s good, because I can be counted on—I once did a performance of The Importance of Being Earnest in the midst of atrial fibrillation, because there wasn’t an understudy. I finished the show, went home, changed, and then went to the ER to get it fixed. (Seriously)

Sometimes it’s good that I don’t want to let people down. Other times, it’s not good.

But I think it’s especially important now, when everything is so busy, to remember that it’s OK to give ourselves margin.

For example: Before I had sinus surgery, I told the lector coordinator that I’d need two weeks off. I didn’t think I actually would be sick for two weeks but I thought, eh, you never know.

It turns out that yeah, I have needed that margin. This morning I thought I wasn’t going to make it to Mass. I didn’t fall asleep until almost 4 AM. But as the day went on (and as I’m writing this), I felt better. So I decided, yes, I could go. I had enough margin. I love Advent, so I knew it would feel good to go to Mass and I could wear one of my new dresses!

Said dress! :)

But, if I hadn’t felt good, then it would’ve been OK to miss Mass.

As I look back on my life, I see that there are times when I probably should have had margin, and didn’t. Like the high school semester that I had TB? I only missed four days of school, and two of those were for testing at the hospital. I should’ve missed a lot more. I was falling asleep in my Earth Science class! There was one day when my mom woke me up, and I was so tired I was crying. That day, I didn’t go to school; I just slept all day. We probably should have done that more. I should’ve said “I need this” more. But I didn’t.

The summer after I almost died? (TWENTY YEARS AGO, now!). I got a summer job. Probably shouldn’t have done that.

Post-transplant I knew that margin had to come into my life in a big way. I couldn’t push myself like I had before. I really did have to listen to my body. And I’ve done a better job of that, over the past 16 1/2 years. But it’s an ongoing process. I need to learn to cut myself some slack, because I can be hard on myself, and I’m guessing you can too.

It really is OK to step back. The world will not end if you take time off. It really, really won’t.

My tree isn’t decorated yet. My nativity isn’t up yet. Normally, both those things would be done. But they’re not. And I’m not pushing myself to do it, either. I’m letting myself feel out each day and see what’s happening in my body. I’m feeling, right now, like the nativity will happen tomorrow. But I don’t know for sure and that’s OK.

It is OK to need margin and space. It is OK to rest.

If you need permission, you have my permission.

REST. Give yourself slack. Create margin. It’s OK.

Post-surgery, knitting, and a Bl. Emily

health, knitting, family, DominicansEmily DeArdo1 Comment

Sinus surgery was successful!

There was a lot of stuff in there, according to my ENT—the sinuses were actually “overflowing” (which I could’ve told ya.) It’s so nice to be able to feel air in my nose again! Yay!

So I’m taking the next few days to just putter and rest/work on house things that have been neglected during the massive “I have no energy because I have massively infected sinuses!” campaign. I want to work on my travel sketchbook and get some of my Amish Country sketches done/finished, and I have a few knitting projects that need repaired or blocked. I’m done with Madeleine’s blanket (she’s my niece!) and I’ve moved on to the next Christmas gift on my list, a scarf for one of my best friends.


Maddie’s blanket (not blocked)

And here’s a nice little treat for all of you—I didn’t know there was a Dominican blessed named Emily! You can read all about her here!

Detail of Bl. Emily in Bernadette Carstenen’s “The Dominicans”

How are you doing? Are you preparing for Christmas? Are you celebrating Advent? Are you doing both or neither? :)

Advent, St. Andrew, and Surgery

Advent, healthEmily DeArdo1 Comment

I feel like there’s so much to write about and I just haven’t had time to do it!

So, happy Advent! Happy New Church Year! Happy Feast of St. Andrew (on the 30th!)

Here’s a post I wrote on Advent and the Liturgical Year

Advent reading: “At the Service of His Plan”

Also, the St. Andrew Christmas Novena starts on November 30. This is one of my favorite “new” traditions—I picked it up about 6 years ago, and I love it.

Anddddd also I’m having surgery on W, Dec. 1 to finally get my sinuses cleared out! WHEEEE!!!!

I get knocked down, but I get up again!

essays, family, healthEmily DeArdoComment
“At the Millinery Shop”, Degas

“At the Millinery Shop”, Degas

If you weren’t a 90s kid/teen, you might not know this song:

(Yes, I just dated myself. And no, I’ve never seen the video, so I hope it’s not questionable. :-P)

(Also for some reason “Danny Boy” is involved. Never was sure why.)

Anyway, that’s a lot of what my life is like, and my dad said this to me yesterday.

“It’s like you start to exercise and have plans and then….you get sick! And you can’t do those things!”

“Welcome to my life,” I said.

And it’s true. It’s sort of frustrating, but it happens a lot. It happens in the hospital when I was 19 and had to learn how to…..sit up again. Or go to the bathroom unassisted. The body is durable, but it’s also surprisingly forgetful. “Huh? We used to ….sit up? All day? Nah.”

So that’s what’s going on right now. The Cipro caused my Achilles’ tendons, especially on my right foot, to get unhappy. Not so unhappy that something actually snapped or swelled, but enough that I went, “OK, we can’t use that foot.” I spent Sunday not putting weight on it, and most of yesterday was the same. It’s feeling OK today. I’m waiting on word from clinic to see if I should stop the Cipro early or if they want me to finish it and damn the torpedoes.

But….that means that my house was sort of a wreck. To put it kindly. Because I was sick most of the month of August, and then I got on the Cipro, which limited my movement, and even with limited movement, I still ended up with issues.

Fortunately my parents are a big help here and will help me dig out from under the avalanche of…stuff. But the other thing means that since I can’t stand for too long, I can’t really cook, which is detrimental both to health and to me, because I like to cook. I have lots of recipes I want to try out. But it’s hard because I can’t stand over something and stir or chop or slice. There is one recipe I have that I love and is really non labor intensive, so I’m making that tonight for dinner, but….I like to cook!

I am very thankful for my parents’ help (and my brother’s, when needed.). It can be hard to feel like a bump on a log and I hate having people clean up after me because I feel like the world’s biggest slacker. But…allowing people to help you in a part of growing in humility. So I’m growing, I guess.

The hope is that I’ve kicked this infection and I can resume regularly scheduled programming soon. I see my ENT next week and I’m going to see if we can do some antibiotic rinse in my sinuses to keep them happier long term, because I’ve been getting a lot of sinus things lately and I don’t really want that to continue (especially if my body can’t tolerate the antibiotics anymore….fingers crossed we can still do them.). So we will investigate some long-term solutions, if there are any.

All this to say that, yes, in life we have setbacks, sometimes huge setbacks, an it can seem like we’re not going to recover from them. But most of the time, we get knocked down and we get up again. :)

Seven Quick Takes: Truth, Cold Bug, and Babies!

7 Quick Takes, Dominicans, family, health, knittingEmily DeArdo1 Comment

-1-

Hello! Happy Friday!

Last week I didn’t write because I had a nasty cold/virus bug thing. It wasn’t the plague. :) But I had some dental work two weeks ago to replace an old filing, and some grossness must have come out during the work and flown right up to my left sinus cavity. For teh first few days it was just sort of sore throat, but then it became a nasty cold that had me pretty well sidelined. Sigh. At least I can take cold meds now—I couldn’t pre-transplant!

Anyway, mostly over now, which is good. Yay!

-2-

This next bit is something that’s been gnawing at me for awhile, but it came to full flower yesterday. That’s the movement of people to not tell the truth. Not necessarily intending to lie, per se, but to not be accurate with their words.

During COVID, I’ve noticed this a few different times, and especially now with vaccinations. There seems to be a persistent myth—and it is a myth—that people who are immunocompromised can’t receive the vaccinations.

We can. I have.

So I’ve taken to calling people out on this—nicely!—when I see it. yesterday on twitter, I did this. The response I got was (and I’m paraphrasing): “well, we only have 140 characters, so we don’t have space to make distinctions.” I was told (and this is a quote) that I was “mincing words.”

No. I was being accurate.

The words we use do matter. That’s not just because I’m a writer and words are what I use to earn my living, but I think we all know that words can be dangerous or healing. Truth or lies matter, and facts matter.

It matters that people believe what’s true, which is that immunocompromised people can get the vaccine. Some people cannot get it, just like all people cannot get every vaccine. (I can’t get the shingles vaccine, because it’s a live vaccine.)

-3-

Being told that it’s mincing words to want to be accurate—to be truthful—was very strange to me. (besides the fact that to “mince words” means to not be truthful or to beat around the bush. When people say “let’s not mince words”, they mean, “let’s be totally honest.” )

When I studied journalism and wrote for my college paper, the goal in writing as to get across the facts in as few words as possible, because all journalists (well, and all writers) know about words counts and space. To say that a word or character limit doesn’t allow you to be honest is…..weird.

I think it also bothers me as a Dominican. The motto (well one of the mottoes) of the order is veritas— “truth.” The order was founded to spread God’s truth throughout the world, not the “truth” that the Albigensians believed. Truth is important, in every sense. Jesus called himself the way, the truth, and the life. Truth isn’t “mincing words”.

So that’s been something I’ve been thinking about lately.

-4-

Another thing I’ve been thinking about? BABIESSSS.

Here’s some Patty:

“Mom, I LOVE PAPER TOWELS!”

“Mom, I LOVE PAPER TOWELS!”

She’s 13 1/2 months old, is working on more teeth, and is walking like a champ. She can also walk while holding her mom’s phone and have a “conversation” (in baby talk) with you. And she kisses the screen, which I think is adorable. Her big siblings have gone off to school, leaving her and Johnny (seen above) at home with mom—at least until Johnny starts pre-school in a few weeks. (He won’t go every day).

-5-

And in other BABY NEWS—My sister is pregnant! I’m an auntie! Yay!!!!! This is my first niece or nephew and I am insanely excited. Of course baby blanket knitting will begin as soon as my sister lets me know what colors she wants. I’ll be making the same one I made for Patty, just different colors.

Patty snuggled under her blanket. <3

Patty snuggled under her blanket. <3

Since Mel and her husband live in Colorado, I won’t have to worry so much about using wool, like I did with Patty, who lives in Texas! I kept worrying that she’d overheat under it, but she seems to do A-OK with it and takes her blanket everywhere, which makes me very happy. I hope that my niece or nephew love her/his baby blanket just as much!

-6-

I’ve been re-reading/re-watching the Harry Potter series. (And the baby’s bedroom is Harry Potter themed!) And while I do that, I’ve done some HP knitting….

2F0F2308-91BC-4B23-A227-FF26DE63C4CE.jpeg

For Christmas last year, Mel got me Knitting Magic, a book of Harry Potter projects. These are the horcrux washcloths, so there is a set of seven. I started with Harry, and then made Hufflepuff’s Cup.

Hufflepuff’s cup—it’s not as easy to see as Harry, but it’s there!

Hufflepuff’s cup—it’s not as easy to see as Harry, but it’s there!

Next up will be Ravencaw’s diadem. My Ravelry notes are here.

-7-

The local school district has started back here, and Patty’s siblings all went back on Tuesday:

BB743C7F-9C0D-4985-8634-3AC09687BCF3.jpeg

Has school started back where you are?

Accommodations are not a "perk"

CF, essays, health, hearing lossEmily DeArdo4 Comments
An example of a lung function test result graph

An example of a lung function test result graph

As the talk about masking mandates ramps up again, I want to say something to all schools (high school and up)—where students and faculty can get vaccinated.

If you are requiring masks for all students and faculty, then please provide accommodation for students and staff who are hard of hearing/deaf and/or cannot wear masks.

When I was in high school and college, my lung function took a huge hit. As a sophomore in high school, I contracted non-infectious TB, which really destroyed my lung function. In college (also my sophomore year!), I almost died. I spent two weeks in the ICU battling a bug that only one other person in the world had ever had.

For the rest of my college career, I had between 19-25% lung function. In my senior year, I began transplant workup. I was sick.

I also started to lose my hearing my junior and senior years in college.

If I had been forced to wear a mask, I would not have been able to attend school. I’m not kidding. This isn’t a “psychological reaction” to wearing masks. It’s a fact, based on my heart rate, my rate of exertion, and my breathlessness when I wear masks and attempt to do anything now, when I have 54% lung function!

I could not have carried all my books around my high school building, let alone my small college campus. I would have not been able to breathe. I would not have been able to go up the stairs in my dormitory. I would have had to drop out of school, because there’s just no way I would’ve been able to do anything like get to class or understand what the professor was saying. This is not hysteria or hyperbole. By the end of my senior year I couldn’t get up a flight of stairs without being severely out of breath.

My hearing loss was fairly mild in college. In fact I didn’t get my first set of hearing aids until after transplant. But who knows if it would’ve been more of a problem if I couldn’t have see my professors’ lips?

Please. If you are in a position of authority to set mask mandates in a school or business, please provide accommodation for those of us who need it. We aren’t making it up, we’re not trying to be dramatic, we need to be able to breathe and understand what’s happening in class.

Seven Quick Takes: Links! Health! Patty!

7 Quick Takes, CF, health, transplantEmily DeArdoComment

I know that’s not a sexy title, but….

I’ve been writing about COVID related stuff a bit in the past year. And as we start to talk about masks and lockdowns again, I thought it would make sense to have an index post about COVID-related things.

The reason I feel this way is because I have, not to brag, a lot of hospital experience. I’ve been a patient in a hospital for many years. I know hospitals. I know lung stuff. I know about risk assessment and personal health.

So I feel like I should share my insights with you, for whatever you think they’re worth.

-1-

COVID, antibodies, and transplant life: posted 5/24/21

This one is a bit of an outlier because it deals with transplant a little more specifically, but it also talks about acceptable risk a bit as well.

-2-

Prudence, Acceptable Risk, and Medicine: posted 5/10/21

This was originally going to be a two-parter, but I haven’t written the second part (yet). The first part deals with exactly what the title says—the fact that every medical “intervention” (including taking Tylenol) has risks associated with it, and it’s our job to assess risks for ourselves.

It also talks about how people are in hospitals every single day, in ICUs every single day, and on ventilators every.single.day, because this is totally forgotten in reporting.

-3-

Hospital 101: posted 11/23/20

Basically: “yes you can be in the hospital and not feel terribly crappy.” And, “No, being in the hospital does not mean that you’re going to die.”

-4-

COVID and lung function: posted 7/7/20

Yes, you can recover lung function after being really, really, REALLY sick! If my crappy old CF lungs could do it, yours can too!

-5-

So that’s the listing of the “big” COVID posts. I have some other things scattered in Quick Takes and various places, but these are the long forms, so to speak. I hope you find them helpful.

Here is Patty as reward! :)

She has EIGHT teeth! And can say cheese!"

She has EIGHT teeth! And can say cheese!"

-6-

I went swimming for the first time in two years! YAY! It felt so great to be back in the water!

20AA6C7B-A01C-476D-B99A-0C445BA69957.jpeg

-7-

And finally I wrote two posts this week! ICYM them:

An awesome clinic visit

The state of the Writing Wicket

COVID, antibodies, and transplant life

Emily DeArdo1 Comment
Vermeer, “The milkmaid”

Vermeer, “The milkmaid”

There was an op-ed in the NYT today, written by a kidney transplant recipient (Her name is Candida Moss), who has found out that after both COVID shots, she does not have any antibodies to the disease in her body.

After being vaccinated, I was given a spike protein test to see if I had immunity. When I learned I had developed no antibodies, I felt sick to my stomach: How will I persuade others to continue to be careful? How many vulnerable people don’t realize they aren’t protected?

Sigh. OK. It’s time for me to do some brief transplant talk here. This was originally a twitter thread, but now I’m expanding it because I think more people need to be aware of things.

Let’s focus on this paragraph, and then I’ll give you some background.

Until recently, immunocompromised people were excluded from studies of the mRNA vaccines for Covid-19, but data from clinical trials is beginning to emerge. A study of fully vaccinated kidney transplant patients published in April by researchers at New York- Presbyterian Hospital and Columbia University Medical Center revealed that 75 percent of kidney transplant patients studied did not develop measurable immunity after both doses of the vaccine. A second study published by Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine researchers in May found that only 54 percent of fully vaccinated organ transplant recipients studied had antibodies. The numbers are different, but both studies showed that immunocompromised people had significantly reduced responses to the mRNA vaccines.

(emphasis above is mine)

Transplants work because we have medications that suppress the immune system. That’s the basic science behind transplant. We take organs from donors and put them in recipients’ bodies. We want to get the closest match possible for the best chance of success, but even then, medications are needed to keep the recipients’ bodies from figuring out “hey! There’s something here that does not belong!”

The big thing to worry about in transplant is organ rejection. Basically, the body knows that my lungs aren’t mine. We have to trick my body constantly into accepting these lungs as my lungs. So, normally at the outset of transplant, and for the first few years, we need to have a higher dose of medication to “fool” our bodies. For example, when I first had my transplant, I was on 40 mg of prednisone. Now I am on 5 mg of predisone. That’s a big drop in terms of suppression, and that’s good. The higher your immunosuppression dose, the more likely you are to get random bugs that are floating around, because we’re tricking the system in such a huge way.

The farther out a person is from transplant, the less suppression medication you are usually on, and that makes a difference in how “aware” your own innate immune system is. Also, the farther out you are, the chance of rejection drops. Now that I’m 16 years out, we still, of course, think about rejection, but the bigger health issues are the things caused by my medications (see, my diabetes, skin cancers, etc.). It’s not so much the fear of rejection.

This plays a big part in how someone might act and what decisions they might make. We don’t know how far out Ms. Moss is, so that’s key context that is missing in this story. If she’s one year out, that’s vastly different than if she’s 16 or 20 or 25 years out.

Key takeaway: Rejection is the big scary thing in transplant world.

(Also that study she mentions for kidney recipients? It’s twenty eight people with an average age of 66. So……)

So, that brings us to COVID. Bad COVID is basically end-stage CF. That’s a problem. It’s not fun. That’s why I got the vaccine.

Lungs are the only organs that are continually exposed to the world, because, obviously, air. That doesn’t happen with hearts or kidneys or livers. They’re protected from these things. So the fact that she’s a kidney recipient immediately changes the discussion, because her risk probably isn’t as high as mine is, because of the nature of our transplants. (I’m guessing, and I’m not trying to diss her.)

So, if you had a lung transplant in the last year, WOW. I know someone who did, actually. That person’s team probably wants him on lockdown, because not only are the immunosuppression meds at their highest (usually), but also, the body itself is weak. I was very weak post transplant. I needed to work! I needed to eat and get strong! So that plays into as well and makes the risk of COVID (or anything, really) more likely and more devastating, because the body isn’t in a place to fight off anything. It’s low on resources in every way. So a person who is only a year post right now is probably living in a very small world, out of absolute necessity.

This is also what makes us different from other immunocompromised people, a fact that Ms. Moss doesn’t talk about. Remember the key takeaway? Our risk when we get sick is also rejection of a vital organ we need to survive. Our doctors have to balance treating us with also keeping our transplanted organs happy. That’s a fine line to walk, to put it mildly.

That’s not the case with other people who are immunocompromised due to cancer or pregnancy or other things. This was never mentioned, and it’s a big point.

Onto the third point: Vaccines and antibodies.

When my team first talked to us about the vaccine, they told us that they had no idea if we would get any protection. Immunocompromised people hadn’t been studied. So the fact that, according to the article, 54% of transplant recipients that have gotten the vaccine have antibodies, is not a “just” situation. That’s a huge good. That’s great! That number makes me really ecstatically happy! YAY!!!!!! Some of us—actually a majority of people studied—have protection! YES!

And then, we get into the “feeling” weeds, where the author just….sigh. Well, I’ll let you read it.

The vaccine passport on my phone is comically meaningless. Yes, I’m vaccinated, but that doesn’t actually protect me. Thankfully, I have been able to spend the pandemic working from home and shielded from danger. Like everyone else, I nurtured dreams of socializing, travel and seeing relatives I have not seen in over a year. I am tired of my apartment. I feel guilty for forcing my immediate family to continue distancing, but the mortality rates for people like me are high. I’m delighted for friends and relatives who have more freedom, but I feel stuck. I’d like to go back to February, when I thought that vaccination meant safety, or even March when I knew others would wear masks at the grocery store.

Here’s the issue. She mentions nothing about what her doctors are telling her. She might not have to continue to force her family to distance. Have they been vaccinated? My parents have been. I’m allowed to interact with them. (I was before anyway) I will see relatives next month. Yes, mortality rates for people like us are high, but that’s also one of the risks of post-transplant life in general. To live 16 years, like I have, is ground-breaking. I’m not just saying that to be make myself sound awesome, it’s true. There really are not statistics for people who are more than 10 years out.

She says she feels “stuck”, which, OK, but again, this is something she needs to talk to her doctors about. Maybe she has, I don’t know, context is missing from so much of this.

Also, “shielded from danger”? Hon. You can die in the tub, falling out of bed, or walking down the street.

The pandemic exposed society’s ageism and ableism, with many people in the beginning months arguing that only the sick and the elderly were at risk. I thought we would learn to be more thoughtful about accommodating the vulnerable. But the invitations to large gatherings that I receive, which omit any reference to safety measures or remote attendance, feel like conscious avoidance of any disparities.

Oh, good grief. Seriously? If we were more thoughtful about accommodating the vulnerable, everyone would be forced to get flu shots every year. People would stay home when they’re sick, and not send their children to school sick. Etc. Let’s stop acting like the pandemic exposed things we didn’t know about how vulnerable populations are treated. We’ve known these things forever, they are not new. She’s lucky she could work from home during the pandemic. The lack of being able to work from home and having accommodation is what made me leave my job.

She’s getting invited to things, and that’s great. If she does not feel comfortable going, she needs to say that she does not comfortable going. One of the big things you learn in post-transplant life is how to balance living with risk acceptance/avoidance. There are things I try not to do now. I avoid indoor malls at Christmastime and in the winter. I try not to fly in flu season. I’ve always been very conscientious (or nuts) about wiping down every inch of my space on an airplane, drinking water copiously, and traveling with masks in case someone is sick on the plane. If it’s really hot, and the UV index is high, then no, I don’t go to the Harry Potter fair with my friends. I stay home. It’s a balance!

I was hoping we’d get context and more fact-based stuff here, but we didn’t. We got a lot of feelings and that’s fine, because feelings are valid, but at the same time, there’s the balance here of risk that all transplant recipients have to learn to balance, because either extreme way is pointing toward insanity and bad consequences. Her talk about danger and risk of death seems to be overwhelming to her, which is concerning. Yes, we shouldn’t act foolish, but at the same time, risk is inherent in daily living. Each person has to decide for herself what her own acceptable level of risk is, and go from there.

Prudence, Acceptable Risk, and Medicine

essays, health, hearing lossEmily DeArdo1 Comment
1925.3245 - Under the Wave off Kanagawa (Kanagawa oki nami....jpg

I’ve been debating this post for awhile, but I think the time has come for me to just write and get on with it. Also, this is gonna be long so settle in.

This is not about the COVID vaccine, really. The COVID vaccine, to me, is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the deeper problem, which is that we, as a people, do not know how to make prudent choices, or define acceptable risk for ourselves and our families.

This will be in two parts: This one, and then a piece about the moral/religious side of things.

(Some of these stories y’all have heard before, but they’re illustrative, so they’re coming up again.)


The first thing we need to talk about is the fact that hospitals are busy every single day of the world.

With COVID, people seemed to be shocked that people were living and dying in hospitals every day. People were in ICUs! (insert running around screaming gif here)

Folks. Yes. People are in ICUs every day. People are in hospitals every day. Hospitals, like all other things, have cycles—there were times when I was on the floor and it was pretty empty, and there were times where almost every single room was full. But yes, there are people in ICUs every day. There are nurses and doctors who work specifically in ICUs. These folks have jobs because ICU specialists are needed on a regular basis. (1)

I understand that many of you do not have the intimacy with hospitals that I have. But a lot of insanity was caused by the breathless reporting about ICU statistics and “people are on ventilators!”

Folks, I was on a ventilator for almost two weeks. Yes. It happens. Some people are one them for a lot longer. But this is not new. This is medicine. This is life. This is—often—death. People die in hospitals every day. In fact, whenever I drive by the former Resort, I think about that, and I pray for the people inside. It’s not just COVID that kills people, although you’d be hard pressed not to think that these days.

(We’ll come back to media coverage in a bit.)

This leads me to my second point, which is that….

Every single medical intervention has risks associated with it.

This includes the Tylenol you take for your headache, the Motrin for your PMS cramps, as well as interventions like being on a ventilator. Every single thing you put in your body can cause an adverse reaction, as anyone who has ever had food poisoning knows.

Life has risks. Driving to work has risks. Getting out of bed is a risk! Taking a shower is a risk! Everyday, we do something that might cause our demise, and most of the time we’re OK with that, because, life. (Drinking too much water has risks!) But when it comes to medicine, all of sudden we lose the sense of acceptable risk.

An example from my life: I lost my hearing because of ototoxic meds (Meds that are toxic to the ear’s hair cells). The choice was, destroy lung infections and stay alive, or not destroy lung infections and hasten death, but then have my hearing be fine. Now, at the time these medicines began to be given to me IV, we didn’t know about the ototoxic nature of them, and now doctors are more sensitive to that. (Yes, once again I pave the way for others!) But all that being said, the choice is—do you want to fight infection, or have great hearing. In my case, it was fight infection—even after my hearing had begun to deteriorate. (2)

Now, the other thing to do, if we know that certain meds or treatments are not good for us (or just cause bad outcomes) is to ask if there’s anything else that can be substituted. I have also done this, because there are some meds that just mess up my body. I have a gimpy right knee now because I walked too far on it when I was on a particular med. So now when I have a sinus infection we use something else, but it has the same risks associated with it, and now I’m just insanely careful when I’m on it (like, I sit on the couch for two weeks careful). But to not treat the sinus infection could—and probably would—lead to lots of other issues down the road, requiring stronger meds, and possible surgeries and hospital stays. no fun thank you.

When the idea of transplant first came up, I was scared at the idea of such a big surgery because I’d never had surgery before. My transplant ended up being my third surgery ever. (3) A lot can go wrong during surgery. I could’ve rejected my lungs immediately. I could’ve died on the table. But at the same time, the only way I was going to survive was to get the surgery (and this was assuming a donor was found).

So, there were risks to transplant, and there were risks to life without it. I made the choice to accept the risks and go forward. Not everyone does that. It’s their choice.

But with transplant comes other risks, mainly the one that I have a compromised immune system and am more susceptible to things (like, um, COVID!). But even within that, we have to look at choices.

Some people post transplant are afraid to open their windows if the grass is being cut. (I’m not kidding) They never go back to work because they’re afraid of infection. Etc. etc. I was never like that, because the point of a transplant is to live your life, while not being stupid (like, tanning—big no no for us, or drinking a lot).

What I’m seeing with the COVID vaccine is people saying, “But there are side effects!”

Yes. There are. They may happen to you. This is the case for everything. single. thing. Read a box of Tylenol some time. Heck, ladies, check a box of tampons—see all the Toxic Shock warnings on them? Yeah. Everything has side effects. Too much sun? You burn. Drink too much? Hangover. Etc. It’s the circle of life. When people just say SIDE EFFECTS! it doesn’t resonate, and it doesn’t come across as a good argument because everything does. (4)

For example: anti-emetics (aka, anti-nausea drugs). One of the most popular anti-nausea drugs is Zofran. Lots of people like it. It’s great. It is not great for me because it makes me throw up; ie, it causes the exact thing it’s supposed to prevent. This also happens with my mom and my sister. So we cannot take zofran.

But that doesn’t mean that I go around saying Zofran is terrible no one should take it there are SIDE EFFECTS!

Zofran is bad for me, but apparently it is great for many other people.

Now, yes, you might get the vaccine, and you might have side effects. It may even be prudent for many people, who are not as an especially high risk of COVID, to delay taking the vaccine. I can see that.

But to say a la Chicken Little that you won’t take it because SIDE EFECTS, and that’s your only argument, is not…a great one. If you say, “I won't take it right now because I might get pregnant and we aren’t sure of the side effects of the medication on pregnancies,” that’s prudent and valid. But if you just say “side effects!!!!!!!!!!!” it doesn’t come across as a reasoned argument.

Sometimes side effects are just going to happen as a part of the acceptance of risk thing. See, losing my hearing. See, chemo side effects. See, “I’m on prednisone for the rest of my life because I need to be and that leads to many things that are not great but I’d rather be alive.” For me, getting the COVID vaccine made sense because if I get COVID, that’s not good at all.

(Now, obviously, sometimes a side effect becomes not a side effect—like thalidomide in pregnancy—and it becomes a “feature not a bug”. That’s completely different than what I’m talking about here. And even that drug has good uses! Just not in pregnant people!)

For you, it might make sense not to get the COVID vaccine, or any other vaccine (like my sister can’t get the regular flu vaccine because she’s allergic to eggs). And that’s fine. But what’s happened is that everything surrounding COVID has become political. So we’re not really working from a clear choice here—we’re working from one that’s clouded by politics and all sorts of other things.

And this is what is lost: the idea that we can make prudent, acceptable risk choices for ourselves without being screamed at or told that we’re being idiots or saying that others are idiots for doing x, y, or z.

I make acceptable risk choices all the time, without even thinking about it, because after 16 years of transplant life, I know. That includes hugging my parents even before I got vaccinated, because hugs are good. (And yes, my parents mostly stayed at home before getting vaccinated—dad works from home). I’ve spent time with my friends in their houses! Because my friends know that if they’re sick, they shouldn’t invite me over, COVID or no COVID!

I have friends that don’t get flu shots. So in the winter, I tell them that if they’re sick, I will not be around them. It’s pretty simple. I don’t yell at them. I just state that if they’re sick, we’re not going to be hanging out. This is a choice they have made, and in turn, it affects a choice that I make. We both do risk assessment for ourselves.

But for some reasons we can’t do that with COVID.

People look at COVID and they see the death tolls and the case numbers every day and they think that it’s the worst thing ever. But there’s no context to this. It’s like if all you did was watch the news, you’d think that we’re all going to be eaten by sharks, or shot up outside the gas station, or kidnapped, or die in a plane crash. This is because the news reports the newsworthy, which is not, you know “1,000,000 in the metro area got home safely from work today!”

(NOTE: this is not to diminish the death toll from COVID. Most definitely not.)

But at the same time, with COVID especially, it’s giving us a twisted picture. We’re seeing “a patient left the hospital after a month today and everyone clapped!” “A person was on a ventilator for two weeks and came off of it and went home!”

This happens every day and it ties back to point one. Yes, it’s a great day to get the ventilator out, trust me. :) It’s a great day to go home after a month long hospitalization, of which I have had a few, because, you want to go home and take a real bath! (And, yes, I was also on the local news after my transplant because I was the first one at my center. You can actually find this on Youtube. No, I will not link to it. :))

But when that stuff is being covered daily, it gives the impression that this is the rarity, and it’s not, if you look at case numbers versus deaths. (Again, see note above.) Most people who get it will go home, or not be hospitalized at all. That doesn’t mean that the losses aren’t sad, because they are. But it does mean that by this sort of coverage, we’re skewing people’s perceptions of real risk. Again, it would be like if the news were doing stories about a person who came home from work safely every night for a week. It would make us think, gee, it must be really dangerous to drive to and from work!

You can only make an acceptable risk evaluation when you have the information in front of you without '“passion or prejudice”, as someone once said in a movie.

And you also have to trust your doctors. This is the final point:

a lot of people do not trust their doctors or the medical establishment.

I, for one, do trust them because my life depends on it. The very few doctors I have had in my life that I did not trust were overruled, thankfully, by doctors I did trust—or I had a come to Jesus meeting with them and said, hey look. (Or I went behind their backs and got information from the Pulmonology department, who is the apex doctor in my situation). I’ve had shitty doctors. My parents can tell you all the stories of the shitty nurses and doctors we’ve encountered.

But my “team”—my transplant pulmonologist, my transplant nurses, and etc.—I trust inherently. I’ve had the same therapist since I was 17—that’s 22 years! With these folks, I can get good information and decide what to do next.

If you do not trust your doctors, then…you’re sort of screwed, honestly. You need to find one you do trust, who also isn’t a charlatan who just tells you whatever you want to hear, because that’s not useful either. (ie, one who says that you can treat T1 diabetes with essential oils—no, you really can’t.)

Without trustworthy people, you can’t make good decisions because you don’t have all the information.

I don’t think that COVID is helping us trust the medical establishment more, as a whole, because we’re getting crazy messaging from the CDC and others in government that seem to contradict themselves many times a day. But at the same time, it’s a little bit like Congressional popularity: most of the time, people have a really low opinion of Congress as a whole, but they love their local guy.

We need to “love” a local doctor. We need to find medical people we trust, and can help us make appropriate decisions for our health and the health of our families. That’s one reason my parents got the COVID vaccine—because of me!

People die every day, COVID or not—and that you should realize that (memento mori, folks!) and use it as a catalyst to live your one life well. You are going to die of something. Let that knowledge encourage you to live well, make good decisions, and be prudent.

Footnotes:

(1) Yes, I’m aware that one of the big things at the beginning of COVID was worries about hospitals being overwhelmed. It was probably prudent to have shut downs in that time period, when we didn't have the information we have now, and when the risk of hospital overwhelm was real—and happening in some places. However, my point here is that there was breathless coverage of the fact that hospitals have full ICUs or have people on ventilators, which happens every single day, everywhere in the world. There was a clear exhibition of the fact that most people do not understand how hospitals actually work, and that people go in and out of them all the time without any fanfare.

(2) This is not a given. Anna Pavlova, the famous ballerina, contracted pneumonia, and was given a choice to have an operation that would remove her ability to dance, or die. She chose death, saying “If I can’t dance, I’d rather be dead.” She died of pleurisy a few days before her fiftieth birthday.

(3) The first one was a combo sinus clean-out and wisdom teeth removal, and the second was to place my port.

(4) Same thing happens when people toss around the words “toxins” or “chemicals” to just refer to every day stuff. There are chemicals in every single thing we eat, drink, inhale, and are. We are made up of chemicals. Same with “toxins”. Water can be toxic if you have too much of it.














Seven Quick Takes--Feb. 11, 2021

7 Quick Takes, the book, healthEmily DeArdoComment
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Hello everyone! Happy Valentine’s Weekend!

Here’s your weekly Patty to kick us off….

Somebody really likes butternut squash! :)

Somebody really likes butternut squash! :)

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So yes, Lent starts on Wednesday…are you ready? Need Lenten reading? Pick up a copy of my book!

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Like I said last week, sales are super important, especially now that there aren’t in-person conferences (yet), so Ave Maria doesn’t have their awesome tables at these conferences to sell books! So it’s so important for me to get book sales, because they have sales goals for my book. So every purchase means so much to me and my publisher!

I am really awful at selling things. I hated selling Girl Scout cookies! But it’s part of the deal with writing in the 21st century, so, I do it. THANK YOU to everyone who has bought the book!

I will also be doing Stations every Friday in Lent with the prayers in my book, so come join us on Facebook!

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If you are using Living Memento Mori for book club or small groups at your parish, I will come talk to you! Yes! I will answer questions, talk about the book….whatever you need that can be done via Zoom. :) Email me to set things up!

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In the “well, you never know what will happen in Emily’s week” category: I spent Monday morning in the local ER because I was having crazy weird chest pain and I thought I might have pneumonia. So I went to get myself checked out. I’ve also been having productive cough, which I never have, so that also made my eyebrows go up a bit.

I was tested for heart attacks, COVID, pneumonia, and anything else—and I’m clear. So my body is ust being weird, and I think the issue with the coughing is that it’s coming down from my sinuses. I see my ENT next week so we can talk sinuses then but I wouldn’t be surprised if they needed some work. We’ll see, and I’ll let you know.

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I am FINALLY vaccine eligible on Monday! Huzzah!!!!!!! So we’ll see how long it takes for me to get scheduled with the local health department. Hopefully not too long!

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And in #emilyknitsacardigan news: I AM KNITTING THE COLLAR!!!!!!!





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This is the LAST STEP before I block the cardigan, and I am so excited. At this point I just knit 5” worth of garter stitch to get the nice shawl collar you see here:

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You can see that the collar is a pretty big design element here. So once it’s done I can bind off and block! And then wear it! I am excited!

(Unlike the photo, I will roll the cuffs on the sleeves. I have short arms.)

Seven Quick Takes--What a Week!

7 Quick Takes, health, knittingEmily DeArdo2 Comments
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Oh my goodness what a week around here!

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On Sunday I celebrated the birthday of my book! So that was a nice start to the week (or end of the week, depending on how you count the weeks!).

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Monday was…OK? I mean my body was still being sort of silly and my sleep was nuts, but it was all right.

Tuesday, however…..no bueno.

It began with finding an email saying that one of my favorite flower companies supports Planned Parenthood. This makes me sad and angry on several levels. One, that the lie that PP is for “women’s health” continues to have traction, whether or not people believe it or if they’re just parroting something that sounds good. Second, that people still think that being able to murder your babies is an OK thing. And third, that politics has to be in everything, even flowers!

Endo kept calling my parent about check in stuff and we couldn’t get ahold of them. (More on endo in a bit). THEN it was port access day, and my port decided not to work.

“Work” in this case means—get blood return. Really quickly: When you access a port, you put in the port needle, with a syringe full of saline attached (used to flush the line) and if the needle in the port, when you pull back on the syringe, blood will come out.

No blood came out. We tried several times.

So, this means that either 1) there is some sort of issue in the line that needs professional help, or 2)the port is broken. The port is 16 years old, so that’s pretty likely. They don’t last forever, sadly.

So I had to email Kim, my transplant coordinator, and see what’s up.

And then both my hockey teams lost in OT.

Tuesday was not good.

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Wednesday.

Kim gets back to me and asks me if I want to see what happens with my port when I come in for blood work on 2/22. I say, yes, let’s do that. If the nurses can’t get it, then we will try a dye study to see if the port is really broken. And if it is, then surgery to remove the old one and put in a new one, which I hope fervently will be a POWER PORT! A power port means that I can get CT contrast through that line! Yayyyyyy!

So, OK, one issue dealt with. The port doesn’t hurt me, so the fact that it’s not currently working isn’t a huge deal.

I have an endocrinology appointment so my parents have to play phone tag with endo and I wail about how the fact that they won’t email me is just insane. Sigh.

So, the office is crazy, but my doctor is good, and I really like her. My appointment with her goes really well; my A1c has dropped two percentage points since last year, so that’s great. She’s “not worried about me” and is pleased with my progress. (I really like it when I don’t worry my doctors.) We make a few little insulin tweaks and set up some more appointments, including an education appointment. So I’m really glad that endo went well.

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And I was so glad that endo went well, and I was all dressed and pretty, so I went to the local yarn store! I had emailed them earlier in the week about stopping in for some help and the owners graciously said yes! (Knit ins aren’t happening right now, obviously, but this was OK.) So with the help of one of the wonderful owners, I finally have figured out how to pick up stitches for my cardigan collar! Huzzah! The end is near!

And then Ince I was there I had to get more yarn, right? So I did. Firstly because the woman had given me her time—she really had, she sat by me until I said I was comfortable doing it!—and also because…..YARN.

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Behold the pretty—this is all Wonderland Yarn from Frabjous Fibers in the Mary Ann fingering base. Tonals: the bright turquoise, called Seaography; variegated: Biscotti, from the Tea Time Collection (the cream/gold/sienna speckle), and then the last two are from their De-Stitch Nation special collection: Jerusalem and Egypt.

Right now I’m thinking about doing a Free Your Fade shawl with Seaography, Egypt, and Jerusalem. Biscotti is a great neutral that will work with anything and makes me really happy.

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The other issue is vaccine roll out here. I am in group “1b” , but that’s been a group that’s been subject to a lot of political pandering. I might not get the vaccine until February 15 because, while I have lots of health issues that are in this group, I don’t have intellectual impairments. I’m not sure how that affects your immune system, but…..the state has decreed it so. Sigh.

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So yes it’s been a busy sort of insane week. But there are good things in it, as always. Like Patty!

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She’s scooting now and it’s so cute—her mom video called me to show me. I just adore this child. And check that dimple!

As soon as I get vaccinated I am RUNNING to see her.