jtr1962
Storage? I am Storage!
Many here have speculated on my reasons for being absent from these forums for over 8 months. A few people who have contacted me privately already know the reason. Since this is a close knit group I thought it time to let everyone know the reason, and it should be obvious from the thread title. Truth is I wanted to do this some months ago but other responsibilities just kept getting in the way. I thank everyone who already knew of this tragedy for keeping it to themselves. While I wouldn't have been overly upset if it had been made public, I'd rather be the one to do so. And I suppose since more than half the people here already know my full name there's no harm using my father's full name in the thread title.
On March 24 or perhaps even the night before my father experienced severe chest pains. No way of knowing exactly when it started since he has long had a habit of keeping things like this to himself. In January 2005 he had a bad case of cellulitis in his leg and it took him nearly two weeks to decide to get medical attention. As usual, he tried to sit things out, probably hoping it was just a severe case of indigestion. Anyway, he wasn't feeling all that well Friday and my mom told him to call an ambulance. He refused. The next morning it took him 30 minutes to climb the stairs from the basement where he has slept for the last ten years. After a lot of persuasion we finally convinced him to call an ambulance. By the time he was on his way to the hospital it was already 3PM. My mom went with him. I had no idea it would be the last time I would ever see my father conscious.
On the way to the hospital my father's heart was beating at upwards of 200 beats per minute The paramedics were unable to bring his heart rate down. Once in the cardiac unit at the hospital they were able to shock his heart back down to a more normal rate. He was sedated and put on oxygen plus a bunch of other things. Later that day he was given an echocardiogram by a specialist. He found two cardiac arteries completely blocked-one from his first heart attack in 1989, and the other from this one. Too much time had passed to be able to open the recently blocked artery. A good portion of his heart muscle was dead from lack of blood flow. Technically he was in a state of cardiogenic shock. The prognosis for someone of his age was a 60% mortality rate. All that could be done at this point was to put him on life support and hope he stabilized enough to attempt open heart surgery. Besides 100% oxygen he was also on norepinephrine to keep his heart from going into arrhythmia. He was put on a balloon pump to ease the workload on his heart.
I went to the hospital that night with my brother and sister. In truth we didn't think my father would last the night. His heart had to be shocked multiple times. By the next morning he was somewhat stable so we went home for a little while. Over the next two days they gradually needed to shock his heart less so we had a glimmer of hope. However, when they tried to bring him down to 80% oxygen he didn't react well so he was kept on 100% oxygen. Long term this would create problems but at this point they really had no choice. His blood pressure remained very low despite attempts to bring it up. On Tuesday the 28th he hadn't needed to be shocked in over 24 hours but his condition wasn't improving. Basically the machines were keeping him alive. Despite a major reduction in the sedative dose he remained unconsicous. His body may well have induced a coma at this point. When we weren't at the hospital we called regularly to check on his condition. At around 11PM on the 28th the doctor in charge called and asked if we still wished them to attempt to resuscitate him if his heart failed. We told them yes. She had called because earlier when they were attending him it looked like his heart might have been ready to stop. A hour later the doctor called again. He had gone into cardiac arrest at 11:45 PM. Attempts to revive him failed.
Me, my brother, and my mother went to the hospital to say goodbye. It was probably the most painful moment of my life seeing my father lying there, knowing he would never talk or move or breathe again. When he left in the ambulance he hardly seemed like someone who was at death's door. He had enough presence of mind to write out a few checks for bills before the ambulance came. I do distinctly remember though that his hands felt ice cold. To this day I keep thinking if only we had dragged him to the hospital earlier he might well have survived.
After the funeral there remained much to do to get my father's affairs in order. First there was the financial affairs. After that there was and is the massive cleanup. My father was somewhat obsessive in his hobbies and very disorganized. The entire basement where he lived was literally a garbage dump. It took a few months to get rid of the garbage, and semiorganize the things potentially worth money so that we can eventually sell them off. It will take literally years to sell everything of value.
Over the last two months I started a major renovation of the basement. First, I pulled down the dirty, 50 year old ceiling tiles. I added loads of sorely needed outlets and some boxes for light fixtures. I retiled the ceiling, all 460 square feet of it. Next year I'll be ceramic tiling the entire area. The work was dirty, backbreaking, and injurious. I got my share of scratches and cuts. I practically cut my finger to the bone on one occasion. I inhaled more than my fair share of dust, hopefully none of it hazardous.
Besides all that I've mentioned, I've had my share of minor health issues both before and after my father died. One day in late February I was alternating between doing some experiments in my workroom in the basement and using my computer. I probably went up and down the stairs a good 100 times that day, if not more. The day afterwards my feet hurt like crazy. No big deal I figured-just a few days rest and they'll be fine. Well, they felt somewhat better after a few days, but they still hurt when I walked while running my daily errands. The pain persisted, sometimes getting better, sometimes getting so bad I was walking like I was 100 years old. It never got completely better, and I suspected that maybe I had a fallen arch or some other foot problem. I eventually tried arch supports with a little success. New shoes combined with the arch supports helped yet more. One day in March I managed to walk about 10 miles at 13 minutes a mile for the first few miles, and 14 or so minutes a mile for the balance. The pace was a little slow for me, and my feet hurt quite a bit when I was done (not unusual for walks this long even prior to the foot problems), but it was a huge step up from where I was a few weeks earlier. Cured I thought.
Turned out I was wrong. In April the pain started coming back. I noticed my some of my toes were slightly swollen, more so on the left foot which gave me more problems than the other one. I forced myself to walk a few miles a day, but it wasn't pleasant or easy. Even during times when I didn't walk at all for a few days the pain persisted. At around this time I also started having gradually worsening problems with my hands, the right in particular. By late June my right index finger was swollen quite a bit, and I couldn't move most of the fingers on my right hand more than a few degrees. Cycling made both the foot and hand problems worse. I felt like an complete invalid at this point, and was thinking of ways to end my life if I couldn't do anything about this pain and lack of mobility.
Around this time I read something in a medical periodical (Health Alert) which mentioned that CTS is basically a symptom of inflammation of the median nerve, and the carpal tunnel release operation, while providing relief, doesn't eliminate the root cause of the condition, namely the inflammation. It was also mentioned that the pain sometimes recurs even with the operation. Anyway, I put two and two together, and realized that my foot problems and my CTS were manifestations of the same thing-generalized inflammation. The cure mentioned couldn't be simpler-vitamin B12!
Don't get me wrong. I was skeptical of course. Nevertheless vitamin B12 certainly couldn't hurt me, at least taking it for a short duration. I tried 500 mcg once daily. After a few days the swelling in my right index finger went away. A few days after that most of the pain was gone. I also noticed that the pain in my feet was gradually declining. Unfortunately, I didn't have a chance to test my joints since I came down with a flu-like illness which kept me bedridden for a good week shortly thereafter. I developed the illness not long after noticing some welts from mosquito bites on my neck. The symptoms included alternating between seating and chills, nausea, dizziness, and fever at times as high as 106°F. It took a month for all traces of whatever it was, perhaps West Nile virus, to vanish completely. After I finally felt better, I went for my walks with little pain. The swelling in my feet was gone. I was back to walking sub-12 minute miles. While my hands still have some problems (I still can't make a closed fist with my right hand without moderate pain), they are better than they've been in a long time.
What brought on my apparent B12 deficiency? Probably the same diet of processed crap which causes most of the health problems in this country. I'm making a greater effort to eat better, basically avoiding things in a package as much as possible. I recommend to anyone else who has any health problem except a trauma of some sort to try to find and correct dietary deficiencies before resorting to surgery and especially before resorting to prescription drugs. Although I pretty much thought so beforehand, this medical periodical merely confirmed my worst suspicions about prescription drugs with many examples. There is no such thing as a drug without side effects, and they all eventually cause more problems than they cure.
Drugs and side effects brings me to my next topic. I strongly suspect Lipitor was as responsible for my father's declining health, and his eventual death, as his bad habits were. A friend of mine experienced severe side effects from this drug, but was smart enough to put two and two together, and stop taking it. My father on the other hand continued taking it because without it his cholesterol readings would have been horrible in no small part due to his horrid choice of foods and his being close to 300 pounds. The last year and a half he had all the side effects of Lipitor-fatigue, constipation, muscle weakness, bloating. He was getting so short of breath that I remember he couldn’t even blow out the candles on his 71st birthday. While I had no illusions that he would live to be 100, I didn’t realize how bad his health had gotten. Still, the fact that his equally obese and sedentary mother had died less than four years before he did, at age 87, led me to believe he probably had maybe ten years left if he made no lifestyle changes. To this day I believe the Lipitor hastened his demise, both due to the side effects, and the masking of his unhealthy eating habits. The sad part is that his family basically comes from very strong stock. If he had taken decent care of himself his whole life, never smoked, ate well, didn’t gain too much weight, he may well have lived a century. I honestly feel like I lost a good thirty more years I should have had with my father.
I have more to say but for now I’ll stop here since this post is already ridiculously long. At least mom is in very good health despite having some non lifethreatening operations the last few years, mostly for joint problems. The longevity tests she’s taken based on her lifestyle and family history suggest she’ll hopefully live to be 100 and change, barring accidents and contagious disease, of course. With any luck I’ll do likewise. It just saddens me that I’ll likely spend quite a bit more of my life without my father than with him. Despite the fact that he was at times a very difficult person to live with, it’s hard to learn to live without someone who I lived with every day of the first 43 years, 4 months of my life, with the exception of my first three semesters at college. My father was like an odd mix of Captain Kirk and Darth Vader with a little Denny Dimwhit thrown in for laughs. He could be impossible but had his moments. I suppose a lot of what I am today comes from both him and my mom. It would have been nice to have had him with me a little longer and even nicer if he hadn't died a young man.
On March 24 or perhaps even the night before my father experienced severe chest pains. No way of knowing exactly when it started since he has long had a habit of keeping things like this to himself. In January 2005 he had a bad case of cellulitis in his leg and it took him nearly two weeks to decide to get medical attention. As usual, he tried to sit things out, probably hoping it was just a severe case of indigestion. Anyway, he wasn't feeling all that well Friday and my mom told him to call an ambulance. He refused. The next morning it took him 30 minutes to climb the stairs from the basement where he has slept for the last ten years. After a lot of persuasion we finally convinced him to call an ambulance. By the time he was on his way to the hospital it was already 3PM. My mom went with him. I had no idea it would be the last time I would ever see my father conscious.
On the way to the hospital my father's heart was beating at upwards of 200 beats per minute The paramedics were unable to bring his heart rate down. Once in the cardiac unit at the hospital they were able to shock his heart back down to a more normal rate. He was sedated and put on oxygen plus a bunch of other things. Later that day he was given an echocardiogram by a specialist. He found two cardiac arteries completely blocked-one from his first heart attack in 1989, and the other from this one. Too much time had passed to be able to open the recently blocked artery. A good portion of his heart muscle was dead from lack of blood flow. Technically he was in a state of cardiogenic shock. The prognosis for someone of his age was a 60% mortality rate. All that could be done at this point was to put him on life support and hope he stabilized enough to attempt open heart surgery. Besides 100% oxygen he was also on norepinephrine to keep his heart from going into arrhythmia. He was put on a balloon pump to ease the workload on his heart.
I went to the hospital that night with my brother and sister. In truth we didn't think my father would last the night. His heart had to be shocked multiple times. By the next morning he was somewhat stable so we went home for a little while. Over the next two days they gradually needed to shock his heart less so we had a glimmer of hope. However, when they tried to bring him down to 80% oxygen he didn't react well so he was kept on 100% oxygen. Long term this would create problems but at this point they really had no choice. His blood pressure remained very low despite attempts to bring it up. On Tuesday the 28th he hadn't needed to be shocked in over 24 hours but his condition wasn't improving. Basically the machines were keeping him alive. Despite a major reduction in the sedative dose he remained unconsicous. His body may well have induced a coma at this point. When we weren't at the hospital we called regularly to check on his condition. At around 11PM on the 28th the doctor in charge called and asked if we still wished them to attempt to resuscitate him if his heart failed. We told them yes. She had called because earlier when they were attending him it looked like his heart might have been ready to stop. A hour later the doctor called again. He had gone into cardiac arrest at 11:45 PM. Attempts to revive him failed.
Me, my brother, and my mother went to the hospital to say goodbye. It was probably the most painful moment of my life seeing my father lying there, knowing he would never talk or move or breathe again. When he left in the ambulance he hardly seemed like someone who was at death's door. He had enough presence of mind to write out a few checks for bills before the ambulance came. I do distinctly remember though that his hands felt ice cold. To this day I keep thinking if only we had dragged him to the hospital earlier he might well have survived.
After the funeral there remained much to do to get my father's affairs in order. First there was the financial affairs. After that there was and is the massive cleanup. My father was somewhat obsessive in his hobbies and very disorganized. The entire basement where he lived was literally a garbage dump. It took a few months to get rid of the garbage, and semiorganize the things potentially worth money so that we can eventually sell them off. It will take literally years to sell everything of value.
Over the last two months I started a major renovation of the basement. First, I pulled down the dirty, 50 year old ceiling tiles. I added loads of sorely needed outlets and some boxes for light fixtures. I retiled the ceiling, all 460 square feet of it. Next year I'll be ceramic tiling the entire area. The work was dirty, backbreaking, and injurious. I got my share of scratches and cuts. I practically cut my finger to the bone on one occasion. I inhaled more than my fair share of dust, hopefully none of it hazardous.
Besides all that I've mentioned, I've had my share of minor health issues both before and after my father died. One day in late February I was alternating between doing some experiments in my workroom in the basement and using my computer. I probably went up and down the stairs a good 100 times that day, if not more. The day afterwards my feet hurt like crazy. No big deal I figured-just a few days rest and they'll be fine. Well, they felt somewhat better after a few days, but they still hurt when I walked while running my daily errands. The pain persisted, sometimes getting better, sometimes getting so bad I was walking like I was 100 years old. It never got completely better, and I suspected that maybe I had a fallen arch or some other foot problem. I eventually tried arch supports with a little success. New shoes combined with the arch supports helped yet more. One day in March I managed to walk about 10 miles at 13 minutes a mile for the first few miles, and 14 or so minutes a mile for the balance. The pace was a little slow for me, and my feet hurt quite a bit when I was done (not unusual for walks this long even prior to the foot problems), but it was a huge step up from where I was a few weeks earlier. Cured I thought.
Turned out I was wrong. In April the pain started coming back. I noticed my some of my toes were slightly swollen, more so on the left foot which gave me more problems than the other one. I forced myself to walk a few miles a day, but it wasn't pleasant or easy. Even during times when I didn't walk at all for a few days the pain persisted. At around this time I also started having gradually worsening problems with my hands, the right in particular. By late June my right index finger was swollen quite a bit, and I couldn't move most of the fingers on my right hand more than a few degrees. Cycling made both the foot and hand problems worse. I felt like an complete invalid at this point, and was thinking of ways to end my life if I couldn't do anything about this pain and lack of mobility.
Around this time I read something in a medical periodical (Health Alert) which mentioned that CTS is basically a symptom of inflammation of the median nerve, and the carpal tunnel release operation, while providing relief, doesn't eliminate the root cause of the condition, namely the inflammation. It was also mentioned that the pain sometimes recurs even with the operation. Anyway, I put two and two together, and realized that my foot problems and my CTS were manifestations of the same thing-generalized inflammation. The cure mentioned couldn't be simpler-vitamin B12!
Don't get me wrong. I was skeptical of course. Nevertheless vitamin B12 certainly couldn't hurt me, at least taking it for a short duration. I tried 500 mcg once daily. After a few days the swelling in my right index finger went away. A few days after that most of the pain was gone. I also noticed that the pain in my feet was gradually declining. Unfortunately, I didn't have a chance to test my joints since I came down with a flu-like illness which kept me bedridden for a good week shortly thereafter. I developed the illness not long after noticing some welts from mosquito bites on my neck. The symptoms included alternating between seating and chills, nausea, dizziness, and fever at times as high as 106°F. It took a month for all traces of whatever it was, perhaps West Nile virus, to vanish completely. After I finally felt better, I went for my walks with little pain. The swelling in my feet was gone. I was back to walking sub-12 minute miles. While my hands still have some problems (I still can't make a closed fist with my right hand without moderate pain), they are better than they've been in a long time.
What brought on my apparent B12 deficiency? Probably the same diet of processed crap which causes most of the health problems in this country. I'm making a greater effort to eat better, basically avoiding things in a package as much as possible. I recommend to anyone else who has any health problem except a trauma of some sort to try to find and correct dietary deficiencies before resorting to surgery and especially before resorting to prescription drugs. Although I pretty much thought so beforehand, this medical periodical merely confirmed my worst suspicions about prescription drugs with many examples. There is no such thing as a drug without side effects, and they all eventually cause more problems than they cure.
Drugs and side effects brings me to my next topic. I strongly suspect Lipitor was as responsible for my father's declining health, and his eventual death, as his bad habits were. A friend of mine experienced severe side effects from this drug, but was smart enough to put two and two together, and stop taking it. My father on the other hand continued taking it because without it his cholesterol readings would have been horrible in no small part due to his horrid choice of foods and his being close to 300 pounds. The last year and a half he had all the side effects of Lipitor-fatigue, constipation, muscle weakness, bloating. He was getting so short of breath that I remember he couldn’t even blow out the candles on his 71st birthday. While I had no illusions that he would live to be 100, I didn’t realize how bad his health had gotten. Still, the fact that his equally obese and sedentary mother had died less than four years before he did, at age 87, led me to believe he probably had maybe ten years left if he made no lifestyle changes. To this day I believe the Lipitor hastened his demise, both due to the side effects, and the masking of his unhealthy eating habits. The sad part is that his family basically comes from very strong stock. If he had taken decent care of himself his whole life, never smoked, ate well, didn’t gain too much weight, he may well have lived a century. I honestly feel like I lost a good thirty more years I should have had with my father.
I have more to say but for now I’ll stop here since this post is already ridiculously long. At least mom is in very good health despite having some non lifethreatening operations the last few years, mostly for joint problems. The longevity tests she’s taken based on her lifestyle and family history suggest she’ll hopefully live to be 100 and change, barring accidents and contagious disease, of course. With any luck I’ll do likewise. It just saddens me that I’ll likely spend quite a bit more of my life without my father than with him. Despite the fact that he was at times a very difficult person to live with, it’s hard to learn to live without someone who I lived with every day of the first 43 years, 4 months of my life, with the exception of my first three semesters at college. My father was like an odd mix of Captain Kirk and Darth Vader with a little Denny Dimwhit thrown in for laughs. He could be impossible but had his moments. I suppose a lot of what I am today comes from both him and my mom. It would have been nice to have had him with me a little longer and even nicer if he hadn't died a young man.
I hope that this experience has made you more aware of health in general and that you consider having examinations sooner rather than later, whether it is for a swollen foot or shortness of breath, etc. I was recently hauled away by the ambulance and spent a couple of days in the hospital - it is always unpleasant.
