A Long, Cold, Frustrating Fall and Winter

My very best intentions for continuing this blog during the fall and then winter of 2017 did not work out that way. I had hardly gotten home from New Life Hiking Spa the end of September when two things happened. First, I got what I believe to have been true blue influenza rather than a simple cold. Second, my very dearest friend Grethe Petersen, my "adopted" Danish sister came for her first visit in many year. 

Thankfully Jim was able to take the long walks with Grethe I had envisioned. There is digging deep when you are sick and then there is how I felt. We did, however, make it back to Woodstock, VT. That was a fun trip! I had not gotten gas before we left York, believing we could get off the highway at the intersection of I-93 and I-89. But we didn't.

 We stopped at the State Park at Quechee Gorge, VT  to visit the Cabot Cheese Shop and have lunch in an old diner before walking the trails of the Gorge. Jim and Grethe could go a lot further than I could, even with my recent sojourn at New Life.The weather was lovely and I know they enjoyed going the entire way to the Gorge, while I got lost and wound up in an entirely different spot on the opposite side of the road from where we started! 

Then it was off to visit  Sugarbush Farm, specializing in making cheese and maple syrup. We were using a tourist map that showed the farm to be four or five miles from Quechee. It turned out to be more than 10 miles away. About half way there the "running out of gas" bell began to ring every minute or so.

So we turned around, went to Woodstock, found a gas station, and filled up. Grethe suggested we forget the farm, but by then Jim, who was driving, was on a mission. So back to Sugarbush we went! 

By the time we reached Sugarbush we were definitely in rural Vermont. With every sign pointing to Sugarbush the road got narrower--and bumpier. The trip was definitely worth it, though. Grethe and Jim followed the permanent tap connections from one maple syrup bush to the next for a nice walk.

And then it was on to the cheddar cheese. Sugarbush gathers milk from a variety of farms throughout Vermont to make cheddar that ranges in age from 2-8 years. There were also some flavored with horseradish or other substances. Lots of fun, and grilled cheese sandwiches for home.

My health, and thus my travels with sticks and spokes, did not improve after Grethe went home. My bout with infuenza improved, but not the cough. It lasted until February, and kept me from singing with my chorus, the church choir, and cut off singing at York's Lesson's and Carols" just before my favorite piece. Christmas Eve saw me leaving in the middle of the Gospel. 

And then I went to Florida to spend a couple of weeks with my good friend Liz--and bike and walk lots of steps. I got the rental bike on Friday and on my maiden voyage fell, landing on my right arm. I had asked my orthopedic surgeon what would happen if I fell off my bike and landed on that arm 13 months after having my right shoulder replaced. He predicted--and he was right--that I would fracture my humerus right below the prosthesis. Falling was a result of foolishness. I was turning back toward Liz's house so I could go to the bike shop and buy a rear view mirror. But I didn't want to get off the bike, and lost control while making a U turn. I spent my first week in Florida in the Ocala Regional Medical Center--a Level 1 trauma facility who had 3 surgeons on staff--if only they weren't so busy--who knew how to do the difficult repair required of this fracture. The staff was marvelous, and when I was allowed to eat the food was pretty good. 

 The medical cautions of my humerus repair kept me from walking much for the following six weeks.  It was a typically disgusting March in Maine, but worse than that, the precautions my doctor placed on me included no using hiking poles to walk. 

Jim and Karen, in particular, tried to convince me not to bike again--or at least until I do some serious time in the gym. I convinced that an electric assist adult trike would work, and my orthopedic surgeon agreed. 

NOT! On my first ride, the trike went into a ditch 50 feet from out house and threw me onto my left side. (This is the short version of the story.)  Road rash and a broken rib. I have finally agreed to stay off the bike, perhaps forever. It makes me sad. It is difficult to consider that I may never get back on a bike again. I have done lots of walking and hiking in my life, but much prefer biking. I know it is not unreasonable for me, at 71, to end my love affair with biking, especially since I have so many replaced joints, which have probably diminished my balance. But in my mind I am only 51. Maybe even younger. 

Our dear friend Don Lippoth, who passed away in April shortly before his 88th birthday, once told me he thought I was aging badly. I hope he was wrong.

In my downtime I've been doing a lot of reading and writing. I dislike the rude political arguments on Facebook. Instead I have decided to start a second blog I'm going to call "Tuesdays with Donald" in Don's memory. We had dinner together almost every Tuesday for six years. Don and I could really get into political discussions, especially since he was very good at baiting me, and I almost always responded--until Jim would start kicking me under the table while we were eating dinner. 😏

But I am still hoping for a few adventures with sticks, even if I should change the name of this blog.

A little bit more every day

Yesterday, I had an important  conversation with Jimmy LaSage, the owner of New Life. When I registered to come here to Vermont I was up-front about my orthopedic problems and inability to walk more than a mile or so. Knowing this, he invited me anyway. I tried, though not hard enough, to increase my endurance at home.

What now allows me to build up my endurance is the levels of hiking offered by New Life. There are, depending on the group of guests (you can stay for as little as two days or as long as a month or more,) 4 or 5 levels of hiking, each about 5 miles long: advanced, advanced intermediate, intermediate, nature walk, and what is euphemistically the "alternate morning program." 

In the alternate morning program walkers and guides agree to the length of a walk, and the kind of terrain we cover. Walking on the alternate morning program is how I could have a girl-friend talk with my guide Courtney on Friday. 

Sunday morning, it was back to walking (I hesitate to call it hiking  because we were on a gravel road.) Vermont is in the middle of a very unusual heat wave with temperatures forecast for around 90 F. So, I had company: three extraordinary and interesting women, ranging in age from 51-72. We were: a psychiatrist born in Russia, a lawyer born in Jamaica, and a business woman born in  Hong Kong! Our current residences are California, Maryland, and Minnesota, and Maine. The best part: these wonderful women  looked out for each other. "Do you have enough water?" "Do you want to walk down that hill because then you have to walk back up?" 

That I can do any distance without being felled with low back pain is based on two things, The first is stretching. Every morning begins with an optional 30 minute stretching class. The morning stretching class begins at 7 AM, which is too early for this old night owl. I've had mixed success with doing my own stretching in my hotel room. Ultimately, I have to be able to translate this into something I can do without too much difficulty when I get home.If there is one thing I will appreciate when I get home Thursday evening it will be not having to set an alarm for 0640!

Using hiking poles continues to be part of improving my ability to walk a little longer every day. I walked with them through-out most of the Seacoast Community Chorus's Scandinavia tour. Most of the time I go walking in our neighborhood I use my poles, even if my neighbors tease me. My poles come apart so I can pack them in my suitcase when I travel.

I don't know how many sets of poles I've gone through over the years. I do know it is more than one, because my son Brian permanently borrowed my hiking poles when his first pair wore out midway though his thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail in 2007. My current poles are from The Kittery Trading Post in nearby Kittery. If I remember correctly they cost about $75. But in the 10 years since I bought them the use of hiking poles has become more common;  the price has come down. You can buy a reasonably decent pair for $20 at Walmart. I know because I have at least one Walmart pole in the back of my car.

If you feel like you are losing your ability to walk long distance because of back, leg, or foot pain, get a pair of poles. If you happen to live near York, ME you can take lessons in Nordic walking from Lauren DeLong, a certified teacher of Nordic walking. (You can find her by googling her name or going to her website, www.nordicwalking.com.) It's great whole body exercise, burns a lot of calories, and Lauren sells some beautiful poles.

Before I end this post I must tell a story on myself. Two years ago Jim and I joined my sister Laura and her husband Larry for some hiking and biking in Acadia National Park (one of my favorite places in the world.) A few days after she went home Laura called me: had she left a pole in my car? I went and looked. Yep, there was a pretty flowered pole on the back seat. I boxed it up and sent it to her. A couple of days later Laura called me, laughing. "You sent me one of Mom's canes!"

Following is a picture from this morning'd hike, (I can't seem to upload all of them.)

STICKS

There are two types of sticks in my life: hiking poles and knitting needle. I’ve devoted most of this last week to the first kind because I am spending ten days in Killington, Vermont at New Life Hiking Spa. The owner, Jimmy LaSage calls it “Summer Camp for Grown-ups.” Having been to a well-respected (and more expensive) Spa as well as having been a camp nurse for eight summers, I would agree.

            New Life’s philosophy centers around a morning hike then activities like water aerobics, yoga, and stretching in the afternoon. The food is very good, with lots of veggies and salad. Last night was “steak night.” The portion wasn’t especially large, but enough for me. The corn in the corn on the cob last night was picked at just the right time.

            I found New Life when I was asked to rate another Spa where I stayed several years ago. I wanted to see what the competition was, found New Life and was so intrigued by its focus on outdoor activity I immediately decided to come for a 10 day stay. That I could drive here was a real bonus!

            Four years ago I bicycled 1500 miles or so on a cross-the-US biking trip. Then I came home and had my knees replaced. In the following two years I had joint replacement surgery on my left hip and both shoulders.

In the summer of 2012 I rode lots of miles over the back roads of Maine to get ready for my biking odyssey, then in the winter of 2012-2013 I spent a couple of hours a day in the gym riding a stationary bike and lifting weights. When the bike trip was over I had the hemoglobin and hematocrit of a man! My legs were that strong.

            But a not-so-funny thing happened on my way in and out of the O.R.: I lost my exercise “mojo.”

            I needed to be able to walk and stand for an hour or so when Seacoast Community Chorus went to Scandinavia this past summer, and I wanted to be able to go on a three mile hike.  I tried, but not hard enough, to strengthen my core (and that includes my back) so I could do so without difficulty. But I failed. Oh, I stood for most concerts, but the 45 minutes were often excruciating. I kept finding excuses not to walk as much as I should both before and after the trip. I reminded myself way too much of my mother, who hated to walk because she hurt so much.

           Motion is lotion and the number 1 cure for low back pain. I know from MRIs and CT scans that my back pain is not from a slipped disc, but wear and tear, and thus mostly from weak muscles. There are other concerts to sing and other trips to make before I am ready to be put out to pasture, so finding a way, any way, to improve my back pain is critical. Even so, I still could easily find excuses not to routinely walk at home. Being at a Spa where the focus is on walking has been terrific. I feel much better. But for now, some pictures of beautiful Vermont with the leaves in transition from late summer, to now, early autumn.

     

"Somebody ought to write a book..."

In January of this year I flew to Chicago to visit a friend from my days in Vietnam. I have created some "rules" for myself about flying. At the top of the list is to consider the length of the flight (from Boston.). If it is over three hours I ask for more legroom. Under three hours, to Washington, D.C. for example, I don't care. The flight is just over an hour. And, when possible, I travel to Europe, where I have family, I fly on Icelandair. Its business/first class is a mere thousand dollars more than an economy seat. That seems expensive until you start comparing the cost of a Saga class flight to a business or first class flight on a non-stop international carrier like Air France or Lufthanza.

I also prefer to fly non-stop if I can. Getting stuck at an unfamiliar airport can become a real challenge.

The flight time from Boston Logan Airport to O'Hare is just about three hours. Despite the fact I had had my right shoulder replaced six weeks earlier I opted to fly economy class, and requested an aisle seat. My seat was on the left side of the plane. What a mistake it was not to purchase the upgrade. And to choose the left side of the plane. I was squished. And there is a lot of me to squish. I was using a fanny pack instead of a purse because of the shoulder surgery. Between the fanny pack, which I chose not to take off, and my girth I had to ask for a seat belt extender:embarrassing. Oh well.

The real problem came with trying to get up to use the bathroom. There really wasn't enough room to stand between the seat in front of me and my seat. I had to push up with my newly replaced shoulder. I knew I would not dislocate it, but it did hurt. As I struggled to sit down and buckle myself back into the seat I thought, "Somebody ought to write about the pitfalls of traveling with replaced joints." Then I realized that with six replaced joints I was the perfect "somebody." And thus the catalyst for this blog.

THE LESSON LEARNED: Choose the seat with the larges pitch (the distance between your seat and the one in front of you) whenever you can.

Here is a website that describes the seat pitch for all major airlines in the US and abroad. The list is by the size and the type of plane (i.e. a Boeing versus and Airbus), the class (economy versus "upper classes"), and the airline. www.seatguru.com.

Travels with Sticks and Spokes: Why Six?

Travels with Sticks and Spokes: Why Six?: Last year a good friend from high school learned I was going to have shoulder replacement surgery. He had just finished rehab following his ...

Why Six?

Last year a good friend from high school learned I was going to have shoulder replacement surgery. He had just finished rehab following his shoulder surgery and wanted to offer his support. When he learned that I am somewhat an old hand at joint replacement surgery we both got a good laugh.

At the root of all six of my replaced joints is osteoarthritis, the kind of arthritis people get as they age, and often can be traced to repetitive motion, such as running or jogging. Those are two activities I just could not master.

Eventually, I learned why. In the summer of 2000 I began to have intermittent pain in my right hip. Several x-rays showed no obvious reason why my right hip hurt. There were hints: after long drives to visit family in Pennsylvania and Virginia I would have a throbbing kind of discomfort in that hip. I would ask my children to "just pull on it."  It felt as if they could pull "just so" the pain would go away. But it never worked.

That August, Jim, our son Brian and I went to San Diego to visit our oldest daughter Kirsten. The morning before we were to leave I had excruciating hip pain, saw 2 doctors, and when no reason for my pain was apparent one of the doctors suggested I use a cane during our trip. It was love at first limp! The cane helped immeasurably, and when the cane immediately bumped us to the front of the line at every attraction at Universal Studios Kirsten and Brian instructed me to keep using the dreaded thing.

Using the cane that August seemed to cure whatever was the problem for over a year. But then, in the fall of 2001 the pain came back with a vengeance. A series of fortunate encounters led me to Dr Thomas King, an orthopedic surgeon in Portsmouth, NH. During my first visit to Dr King's office he took an x-ray and promptly made an unexpected diagnosis: I had a dislocated hip. And it looked as though as I have had it since birth. From the x-ray Dr King could tell I had significant damage to my right hip joint and was walking "bone on bone." I needed a total hip replacement.

Receiving the diagnosis was liking being a contestant on The Price is Right winning at the game Plinko. You know the game where the contestant climbs above a large Plinko game board and drops chips into slots; each slot has a cash reward; the goal is to earn as much money as possible. In MY Plinko, hearing I had a dislocated hip was like winning the game. The pieces of my life related to my hip pain finally fell in place.

And so, in January 2002, at age 54 and a half, I had my first joint replacement surgery. Because it was a "traditional" posterior replacement I was required to spend about 6 weeks in bed, or sitting in a chair with my right hip at at 90 degree angle--or less. I knit a sweater, watched the Patriots win their first Super Bowl, and read countless books during that time. But it was worth it. I have no hip pain.  There are some maneuvers I can't make with my right hip, or make weirdly, such as getting behind the driver's seat. It is the only time I remember that parts of my hip are not my own. And for this I am very grateful.

I suspect that both my knee replacements are collateral damage from however I swam around in my mother's womb that caused me to have the hip dysplasia in the first place. But I also inherited my mother's ability to make osteoarthritis.

So to sum up:
January 2002--right hip replacement
May 2013--right knee replacement
August 2013-left knee replacement
October 2014--left shoulder (reverse)  replacement
August 2015--left hip replacement (anterior procedure)
December 2016--right shoulder (reverse) replacement

I am grateful that each surgery worked so well, and grateful to the surgeons at Atlantic Orthopedics and Sports Medicine (Portsmouth NH), the physical therapists at York (Maine) Hospital and Saco Bay Sports Physical Therapy. And I am really grateful to my family for their love and care through it all.

And now that that is out of the way I can focus on the rest of my stories!