What Becomes of the Brokenhearted...

When I flew into Phoenix it was hot and humid and miserable. It was good to be home but I was still a bit shaken by what just happened. My lovely bride met me at the end of the concourse. We held hands and strolled as we made our way to the baggage claim to get Wilma. Once she rolled off the carousel, we headed straight for the barn. I was glad to be home yet I hated being there. When we got to the house I made some small talk with Jon, checked my emails and Facebook and headed straight to bed. I managed not to wake up at 4:15 and slept ‘til nearly seven. It was glorious but I still longed for the Trail.

The first few days I really dodged people. I felt like the guy with a new cast on his leg. I tried to put a new spin on the story every time I told it, but I then got to the point where it was easier just to say, I had health problems and needed to pull the plug. Most everyone was understanding and supportive and that was appreciated more than I will ever be able to say.

The hardest thing was to figure out what to do with myself. I was not ready to go back to work yet and wanted to write about my adventure or at least tell my story up to this point. I will not deny that I beat myself up pretty hard. I was neither used to nor prepared for failure. I will make sure to include imperfection in my mental rolodex for things to be ready for on my next attempt(s).

It didn’t take long for me to get into a routine of sitting around the house. At first I tried to stay busy helping Lisa with her "woman’s" work while trying to justify my down time by having a hot meal ready for her when she got home. I had gotten into the routine of handing her an apple cider or a glass of wine when she walked thru door. I skipped the wearing of the house dress and the pearls until the first time the Jehovah Witnesses came by. It is one way of getting rid of them quickly though…

I noticed that I was still getting winded really easy. I would finish sorting the laundry and I was huffing and puffing like I had run a 100 yard dash. Half way thru dishes, I would have to go sit down because I was just exhausted from trying to get the good air in and the bad air out. Anytime I was shopping, I sounded like the big bad wolf huffing and puffing just looking for a house to blow down.  I nearly passed out numerous times just standing in line. The odd thing was how good I would feel between these episodes. I assumed I was getting better but  I wasn’t. It was only getting worse. I finally gave up the fight and went to the Doc.

They got me in pretty fast and the doc listened intently to my story. She has been my doc for close to 20 years and knows me well. She was aware of my hike and called it “badass.” She had signed off on my adventure and was curious to see how it would effect my overall health when I returned. When I told her of the episode in segment four, she seemed genuinely concerned and needed to rule out several possible issues. The first one was to check to see if I had a pulmonary embolism. A PE is a blood clot that gets trapped in your lungs and in addition to reducing the amount of oxygenated blood returning to your heart, it is notoriously painful. She sent me in for a CAT scan that day. The results were read while I waited and the PE was ruled out. I received a phone call the next morning and was advised I had pneumonia. The pneumonia made sense and I was beginning to feel less like a wuss for getting off the trail. Antibiotics were given and the pneumonia was cleared. A second CAT scan was performed which confirmed the pneumonia was gone, but I still could not breathe.

If that wasn't enough, I learned that a dear friend of mine had been killed in a motorcycle accident. I was devastated. I wanted to go to the memorial but I was given specific instructions not to fly. It is really hard to say good bye from that far away. My heart was hurting. My cherished long time friend pointed out that this had really been a tough month for me. She was right but there was nothing more I could do.

I met with the cardiologist and he scheduled me for several tests. After the final test, a well meaning nurse called and told me there were no issues with my heart. That was great news, but I was still lost as to why I could not breathe.  The episodes were increasing in number and severity, so I called and made an appointment with a pulmonologist.

Of course, I was having a good breathing day and she could not find anything outstanding during the visit. She set me up for a CPX test. CPX stands for cardio pulmonary exercise test. She told me I should expect to ride a bicycle in scuba gear and it will tell me everything that is going on in my body. I’ve been Jonesing to get back on the bike so I was excited to get r done.

Since I had gotten that phone call from the nurse at the cardiologist’s office, I assumed there was nothing going on with my ticker so I rescheduled my follow up appointment. The original follow up appointment was at an office across town. I didn’t want to drive forty-five minutes to an hour to find out my heart was just fine when I could reschedule and only have to drive five to ten minutes. When I met with the doc, I was not given good news. There was indeed an issue with my heart and he wants to put a stent in to open up the artery and hopefully get the left side of my heart beating more efficiently. I have nothing else to do so I agreed. I am not sure where this all will lead, but I can only hope it will get me back on the trail, any trail, soon and  very soon. In many different ways, my heart was broken but it was not shattered. I am pretty sure I can live with that. I really am anxious to see what does become of the broken hearted. Just sayin'...