Silent Heroes

Silence. All around me right now, I hear the quiet of my dog stretched out on the rug. The breaths in and out as my husband sleeps in the chair. The fake fire flames quietly dancing in the light. The sun filling the space behind me.  

It is a comfort, this silence. 

In our world filled with chants and gun fire, this silence feels blessed. Like a pause before the next shocking burst of evil. Evil that must be stopped at all costs. I have marched many times in my life for peace and equal rights. I thought we’d all won. I am so mad and sad to see other’s fears kill innocent loving people. 

It is grace, this life.

I sit here heartbroken and hopeful. Terrified and tenderly listening to life with gratefulness. My husband is alive and recovering. A few weeks ago, I was sitting on the floor, begging him to open his eyes. Tapping his face in desperation while I dialed 911. 

He was just making breakfast. I was pouring juice when I felt a nudge, a tingling, an alarm. I looked up and his face was losing color as he stirred the eggs. I went over, put my hands on his upper arms and guided him down. Down to the floor, where he slumped. 

It is strength, this breath. 

They came in with calm strength and went straight to work. Oxygen brought breath back. Monitors checked the beating heart. A woman in uniform asked what happened while others revived him and asked him questions. 

Soon, we were on our way to the hospital. They talked to him in the back. I could hear him respond. They took him to emergency. I was told to go to the waiting room. Soon we were together again in a small room with beeping machines. 

It is relief, this help. 

Of course, there were tests and waiting. But he was awake, talking and getting fluids. He tested positive for RSV, this year’s flu. They found a ‘blip’ on his heart monitor and they wanted to keep him and check it out. So he stayed overnight.

I went home alone. But we texted. He had a good salmon dinner. I managed terrible microwaved eggs and cheese. I cried tears of relief. 

It is still scary, this recovery. 

But we are ok. He eats and reads and walks around the house. Each day picking up the pace and doing stairs. I take his blood pressure and he has sent in his heart monitor. He’s been to his PCP and all is going as expected when you have this flu. 

I am the one who cooks now. We’ve traded off on this task over the years due to work schedules. He’s a much better breakfast cook than I am, but I’m learning. Last year, he had to do it all for me and now, I do it all for him. We’ve always shared the home turf equally.  

It is horrible, this violence all around us. 

But it is it also wonderful, this help from strangers. 

These dedicated men and women who save lives everyday. They are the true heroes. They are true Americans. They are the ones who show us who we truly are with their compassion, courage and strength. 

Ever heard of PFD PT?

 

I hadn’t either. I’ve hesitated writing about it because it deals with a part of the body most of us don’t talk about. And the symptoms can be tricky to figure out. But it’s very common in women and some men. Ok. Here you go: PFD stands for Pelvic Floor Disfunction. 

According to Wikipedia:  “Pelvic floor dysfunction is a term used for a variety of disorders that occur when pelvic floor muscles and ligaments are impaired. The condition affects up to 50 percent of women who have given birth. Although this condition predominantly affects women, up to 16 percent of men are affected as well. Pelvic floor muscles can be too tight or too loose.” 

I never knew about it until after my surgery in December. After struggling with pain for many months, afraid something was really, really wrong with me, I was sent to get physical therapy. 

How weird is that?

I couldn’t even understand the situation much less the process. It was intense. There were many things I had to keep track of: fluid intake, fluid output, sitting and standing positions. I had exercises to do during the day. 

Luckily, I’ve been doing yoga for decades so many of the exercises were close to yoga poses I’ve done before. And just like any exercise program, consistency is key. I happen to like doing yoga, so it was easier for me to adapt to the routine. Instead of just of doing yoga moves before I walk in the morning, I’ve added yoga moves to do three times a day. 

There’s a FB group for that.

Yup. In case, like me,  you’ve never heard of it, google it. There’s a huge FB group called Pelvic Sanity sponsored by a Physical Therapy group in California. It helped me to understand the pain I was going through and most of all, that I was not alone. But warning: TMI, some of it is a little too much info. 

It took time to get into a physical therapist, but it really helped me. I learned so much and made a lot of progress. I have days without pain now. And I’m very aware of the signals that my body needs a break. I learned that listening and doing my yoga moves make all the difference in the world. 

I was a little uncomfortable about sharing this publicly in a blog, but I spent months and months in the dark, in pain. And if this helps someone else find help sooner, I’m glad.