Three Good Things

There’s not much I can do to remove the clots from my lungs and my leg. I just have to take my medicine and wait. Unfortunately the medicine itself can cause big problems. So I have taken some steps to shore up my defenses.

For much of 2017 I rode without a helmet. I hate helmets. So it was a little bit ironic that  I bought a new helmet with the multi-dimensional impact protection system or MIPS. This type of helmet has a plastic liner that moves. The idea is that if you hit your helmet on something your head won’t just smash into the inside of the helmet. Instead the plastic liner will allow your melon to move a bit, reducing (so they say) the chance of a concussion. For me, that might mean reducing the chance of blood building up in my brain – which can be fatal.

Fatal is not good.

Before my bike tour to Florida, I bought an Ortlieb mirror. It was a godsend, especially when I looked at it and saw a dump truck bearing down on me in West Palm Beach. I was about to lose my lane. Instead of proceeding I stopped and the dump truck didn’t. I’d have been toast.

Toast is not good.

So I bought another mirror for my Cross Check which will make riding in traffic around and in DC a bit safer.

My third acquisition is a Road ID. It’s a wrist band with a small metal clip attached. The clip has my name, my wife’s name and phone numbers, and critical medical information: Xarelto, Asthma, and A+, my blood type. In the event that I am unconscious medical professionals will know that I am likely to bleed uncontrollably.

Bleeding uncontrollably is not good.

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Purple Road ID wrist band, Ortlieb mirror, and MIPS helmet. 

So, it’s all good.

A Bike Ride in America 2018

The weatherman called for temperatures in the high 50Fs so there was just one thing to do: go for a ride. I had originally planned on spending the day at the Women’s March in DC. Last year Mrs. Rootchopper and I went to the Women’s March. We stood unable to move for hours in a throng of at least a half million people. I hadn’t heard much about this year’s march. I had committed to a volunteer event that was cancelled by the government shutdown. Mrs. Rootchopper was committed to doing a volunteer event that wasn’t cancelled, so I decided that, rather than commit my whole day to the march, I’d ride up to the Lincoln Memorial and check things out instead.

The ride featured a helpful tailwind. I slalomed through the people on the Mount Vernon Trail and stopped after 11 miles to take a picture of a jet landing at National Airport.

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I rode into the city on the Memorial Bridge. There was quite a bit of foot traffic coming away from the city. Since the government had shutdown all the Smithsonian museums and public restrooms were closed. I suspect that many of these folks were not having a very good time.

As I arrived at the east-facing side of the Lincoln Memorial I could hear speeches and cheers. Then I saw it. Tens of thousands of people lining the reflecting pool. The crowd was significantly smaller than last year but much, much larger than I was expecting.

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If you look really closely you can see my friends Joe and Veronica and Justin. Okay, maybe not. They were there though. I am sure there were other people I knew too.

As I passed in front of the memorial (to the left in the photo) I saw counter protesters with anti-abortion signs. It seemed that every one of them had a smiling Women’s March participant standing right in front of them holding a sign or wearing a t-shirt with a pro-choice message. Many of these counter-counter protesters were carrying Planned Parenthood signs. Somehow despite their differences of opinion, they seemed to be showing mutual respect. Whadda ya know about that!

I made my way down Constitution Avenue, amazed at the throngs coming and going from the Mall. I took the road around the Ellipse, a park situated between the White House and the Washington Monument, so I could get to the pedestrian plaza on the opposite side of the White House. I decided to stop and take a picture of the White House on the near side. I had taken the Ellipse road counterclockwise. It is a one-way street going clockwise so I was expecting to pull off if I encountered any cars.

The White House grounds is bound by a tall black metal fence. The security perimeter is further extended near the Ellipse by a jersey barrier that cuts off half the roadway I was on. I was inching my way along the remaining traffic lane. I could have gone onto the sidewalk but it was packed with tourists taking photos of the White House. I stopped in the road and reached into my handlebar bag. I pulled out my phone when I heard a man say “MOVE ALONG.” There was no “sir” at the end of the command. This was clearly meant to intimidate me. I turned and saw a Secret Service man (If it’s secret why did he have the words SECRET SERVICE in big white letters on his shirt? Maybe he should get one that says OBVIOUS SERVICE. Just a thought.) He was perhaps in his late twenties. He had on body armor of some sort and was holding an automatic (or semiautomatic) weapon in his left hand. It was pointed at the ground.

My brain went to work. Do I look like an evil doer? A desperado? Do assassins kill with cell phones while holding a bicycle between their legs? Why the hell does he have a weapon that could wipe out me and everyone within 20 feet of me? Why does he have it out?

Then my mouth went to work. I put my phone away and looked Mr. Secret Service in the eye and said “This is America.” I left off “You fucking Nazi.” Call me Mr. Restraint.

I went on the sidewalk and took my picture. In retrospect I wish I had taken a picture of him. I have a bad feeling that I’ll be reading about him in the paper someday when he uses that weapon against a harmless tourist from Des Moines.

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After this pleasant encounter I made my way up the 15th Street cycletrack to the other side of the White House. Pennsylvania Avenue is closed to motor vehicles. Today it was occupied by a hundred or so people expressing their support for the Dreamers. There were plenty of police around. None of them seemed to think they needed to bark at people or hold an uzi in plain sight. This made me feel a little better.

I made my way back down the cycletrack to the Pennsylvania Avenue cycletrack At 4th Street I took a right to head toward the waterfront and the bustling new development called The Wharf. At a stop light I heard a voice coming from my left. A bike had just pulled up along side me. I turned and saw Rachel M. I know you! She hadn’t recognized me. She was just making idle chatter. So we rode side by side to M Street. She turned left to explore the Anacostia River Trail. I turned right for the Wharf.

When I got there, I stopped to check my phone. When I got off my bike my middle and upper back went into spasm. Since an apparent back spasm a month ago had been the rather unpleasant first symptom of pulmonary embolisms, I decided that it would be wise to head for home. Slowly.

After a couple of miles, my back loosened up. I rode down the trail, weaving in and out of the humanity. Feeling better I diverted away from the river to ride through the Del Ray neighborhood. Everyone was smiling. People were drinking coffee outside. It felt like April (except there was no baseball).

I arrived home without any lingering pain. It’s pretty pathetic when you consider it a good day when your body doesn’t reject you.

But it was a good day. I even managed to get a little tan on my face. In January.

Play ball. This is America after all.

 

 

I Am Going to Kill My Body

It’s been four weeks since my cardiovascular system mutinied. I feel perfectly fine. I plan on going for a long-ish ride tomorrow. I plan on not dying.

My body has recently decided that it’s not through screwing with me. I was up half the night with a pain in my foot. It’s the return of my Morton’s neuroma. (It’s an inflamed nerve that runs several inches between and behind my “ring” and middle toes. It felt like someone was sticking a knife in my foot.

The nerve finally calmed down after a couple of hours. I swear I could hear snickering coming from my foot.

Today I went to the dentist for my semi-annual exercise in mindfulness. I HATE going to the dentist. I get all tense expecting intense pain while my teeth are being cleaned. This is not without reason. I have had some pretty unpleasant dental visits including the time the endodontist prepared to close off the hole in my front tooth from which he had removed my root. The problem was that he removed only half the root. There was still a live nerve in the hole. I literally jumped out of the seat. He said, “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” I kicked him in the balls and said “Neither was that!”

Okay I lied about the kick in the balls. But the pain went straight up my nose into my brain. It was an Olivier/Hoffman Marathon Man moment. (Ironically, I ran marathons at the time.)

The blood thinner has caused my gums to get all inflamed in the past week. I tried a home remedy that seemed to calm things down. I just put mouthwash in my mouth and hold it along my gum line. It stings but the gums waved a white flag.

The cleaning today went much better than expected. Occasionally during the cleaning something would hurt. My hands tensed up waiting for that jump-out-of-the-chair moment. So, and here’s the mindfulness part, I focused on the fact that the pain was insignificant. I consciously relaxed my hands which relaxed my arms and my shoulders. And reminded myself that I am just anticipating pain that will probably not arise. And every time I found my hands clenching, I’d just repeat the routine.

It sounds pretty weird but it worked.

So my body tried to get me again but my brain triumphed. Until the dentist came in and said words I hadn’t heard in ten years: “You have a cavity.”

I go to the dermatologist next week. Do you think maybe I should reschedule?

 

From a Scan to Afghanistan

So it snowed a little the other night. Mr. Outside (that would be me) stayed inside and rode for nearly 90 minutes in the basement.

Big fun.

Not.

Today the temperatures broke 40 degrees. Cowabunga!

I rode 21 miles on my Cross Check stopping so I could get ready to go to the hospital.

We’re having fun now.

I went in for a CT scan of my adrenal glands. (They are located atop the kidneys.) My doctors are looking to rule out cancer because some cancers increase the propensity for blood to clot.

The scan is pretty hot. Literally. You lie on a table that moves into a donut shaped scanner. You hold your breath and the scanner activates. The table gradually moves back out from under the donut. This takes about five seconds. After three passes, a contrasting agent is injected into a vein in your arm. The agent flows back into your heart and then get pumped throughout your body. As this happens you feel eerie warmth spreading through you system. The spreading takes a few seconds so you feel it gradually advancing. Next, you get moved back under the donut for another scan. The warmth dissipates and you get one more pass under the scanner.

I have no idea what the outcome was. The technician is not allowed to tell me. She did, however, seem pretty upbeat afterwards. I’d be surprised if they find any cancer.

Which, of course, leaves us wondering what caused the deep vein thrombosis in my calf that released the pulmonary embolisms into my lungs? Don’t you just love a mystery?

A few hours later I drove to DC to attend a #bikedc happy hour at District Hardware at the recently opened Wharf development along Washington Channel. District Hardware is one part hardware store, one part bike shop, and one part coffee bar with beer and wine. I am not making this up. What a concept.

There were a few dozen people at the happy hour, most of whom are involved in the friendly, somewhat loony winter bicycling competition known as Freezing Saddles. I knew perhaps a third of them. I can vouch for their loony-ness.

One of the attendees not involved in Freezing Saddles recently returned from a year abroad. I met Lis Wilson several years ago at Friday Coffee Club. She’s one of those people that make DC such an incredibly interesting place to live in. Lis recently returned from Kabul, Afghanistan. She spent much of her time confined to a compound for her safety so, although the work may have been rewarding, the living was rather tedious. It was a terrific surprise to see her. She shamed me into forgoing alcohol. L’chaim indeed. Welcome home, Lis. We missed you. Maybe next time you can spend a year in someplace a little less edgy like Omaha. Or Elmira.

Many thanks to Lis and the many others who expressed concern about my health. And to Joe and Rachel for organizing this get together. I needed a social fix.

 

 

(Out)side Effects

Following up on yesterday’s post, I bundled up and hit the road today. It was a little over 40 degrees in the direct sunlight and there was no ice on the roads and trails. It took me an unusually long time to get warm. Normally, when I dress properly, I warm up within a mile or two. Today it took about five miles. I did end up riding 32 1/2 miles, but I was cold for the last five miles too.

I wonder if this chill is a side effect of the blood thinning medication, Xarelto, that I am taking. I wouldn’t be surprised because I have had two other side effects in my first 3 1/2 weeks on the drug. I noticed within a day or two of taking the drug that I itched everywhere. This itchiness went away only to be replaced by sharp nerve pain in my feet. These stabbing pains would last only a few seconds. They came and went. Ultimately, they left for good. Around this time, my dosage was reduced by 50 percent.

And my nerve pain was replaced by another side effect.

The other night I was flossing between my two front teeth. The floss broke off. It took several tries to get a smooth, floss-free groove between my teeth. It was as if my teeth were pushed closer together. As it turns out my gums are inflamed and red. The interwebs list bloody gums as a side effect of Xarelto.

I hope this side effect goes away soon. I have a dentist appointment on Friday. Maybe I can learn more.

I am still being asked on a daily basis how I am doing. All is well. There is nothing for me to do but take my medicine and wait for the clots to be absorbed by my body. This will take at least two more months, or more likely five.

It is what it is.

 

Winter Weather Wimp Gets Back into a Routine

I really am a wimp. It’s below freezing outside but there’s no ice on the roads so it’s safe to go riding. But I walk out the door and the blast of cold air pushes me down the stairs in to the basement where Big Nellie and Lincoln in the Bardo await.

I know I am a weenie because my bike commuting friends are out there slogging away to and from work. Although she doesn’t exactly slog, Mary the Coffeenuer is braving the cold and – for the most part – enjoying it. Her latest blog post pretty much is a call to arms, or pedals. So I resolve to get out of the basement as long as there is no ice on the ground. (It’s supposed to snow tomorrow night so this might be a pretty short lived resolution.)

An update on my recovery: I feel fine. I have my energy back. Mrs. Rootchopper says that my left calf looks bigger than my right. This is consistent with a deep vein thrombosis or big blood clot in my left calf. I have used a tape measure and I can’t find a difference. I also don’t feel any difference between the left and right calf.

I have ordered a mirror for my Cross Check just to decrease my chances of being run over by big metal things. And I have purchased a RoadID which is like a medic alert bracelet. It has my name and address, my wife’s contact numbers, my blood type and Xarelto, the blood thinning medication I am on. This is especially important in case I crash and hit my head and am knock out or concussed. Blows to the head can lead to runaway bleeding in the skull which can be fatal within a day or two. I want to make sure that EMTs and ER doctors know about my medication from the get go even if I can’t speak for myself.

Well, that was depressing.

My CT scan for tomorrow has been postponed because my insurance is flinching at having another one so soon after the last one. This is pretty routine.

Later this week I have a dental appointment. Hopefully I won’t need any crowns or fillings because I’d have to stop taking Xarelto for a couple of days and I really can’t do that right now.

I am getting back to the daily routine I was in before all this craziness took over my life.

  • Meditation for 20 -30 minutes – This is a hold over from self treatment of depression. I’m into my fourth year of sitting on a daily basis. Oddly, it’s also the last vestige of a friendship gone sour. Go figure.
  • Reading the newspaper over breakfast – I have been doing crosswords since college. Breakfast doesn’t seem right without a puzzle.
  • Reading – I am an obsessive reader. I can’t imagine living without books all around me. I am working down the pile of books I got for Christmas and as gifts for nearly dying. (I can’t die now, God.. I have four more books on my nightstand.) I should be coming up for air about May 1.
  • Riding – I am still searching for a good substitute for the best bike commute on the planet. And I have to get myself into some sort of decent riding shape because I fully intend to ride to Pacific waters this spring and summer.
  • Learning guitar – I am the least musical person on the planet. And I have small hands. So this is an uphill battle. Still, twiddling away at finger picking is strangely relaxing. And it’s a lot easier to learn these days because there are a bazillion instructional videos online.
  • Listening to music – This is something that has fallen by the wayside with all the bike riding that I’ve been doing over the years. I was browsing YouTube recently when I saw the name Brandi Carlile. I’ve heard her name many, many times over the years and never took the time to listen to her. Doh. She’s been making interesting music for 12 years and six (soon to be seven albums). So I am wearing out two of her CDs and I am about to buy all the others. This will tide me over until the next Neil Finn CD comes out later this year.
  • And doing at least one adult thing –  Today’s was driving my daughter’s car so its battery wouldn’t die. And doing a load of laundry. Hey, that’s two.

In addition to these daily activities I have a few other things I want to keep doing.

  • Socialize – I am trying to do at least one social thing a week so I don’t turn into a hermit. The weekend before last was brunch with folks from grad school. This past weekend was the wedding of the daughter of a former work colleague. It was at a mosque which made it especially unusual (for me at least) and interesting. This Thursday I am going to a #bikedc happy hour. I am not supposed to drink alcohol while on my medication but I think one drink in a two-week span won’t kill me. Then again, who the hell knows!
  • Advocacy – As a total introvert, I make a lousy advocate. Still, I hope to attend a meeting with National Park Service staff regarding the Mount Vernon Trail on Saturday.
  • Sportz – I don’t watch much sports but the NFL playoffs include the Patriots. I lived in Boston and Providence for 11 years during which time the Patriots were consistently mediocre. Their recent run of excellence has been fun to watch. I only watch during the playoffs. I don’t have time for the other 16 games.

 

 

 

 

 

Whoa Nellie

Many years ago, I was riding my Tour Easy recumbent to Indiana. I had just had the rear wheel replaced in Frostburg, Maryland. After a half hour I crested the aptly named Big Savage Mountain. With about 35 pounds of gear, all over my back wheel, I began the descent from the crest. The bike had a full fairing, a Lexan windshield, that made it super fast on downhills. And within less than a minute I felt like I was riding a bullet. I looked down at my speedometer and saw 48 miles per hour. I was just getting started. I’d never ridden this fast on a recumbent before and all I could think of was: I hope nothing goes wrong or I am a dead man. So, in near panic I yelled:

WHOA NELLIE!

I started riding the brakes to bring me down to a safe speed, all the while hoping the rims of the wheels didn’t overheat.

American sports fans my age well know that “Whoa Nellie” comes from sportscaster Keith Jackson. He was the voice of college football for decades. I don’t remember all that much about college football back in the day but I remember his announcing.

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I named my recumbent Nellie after that crazy descent. (Today I call it Big Nellie because I named my Bike Friday folding travel bike Little Nellie after the kit helicopter in the James Bond movie “You Only Live Twice.”)

Keith Jackson died yesterday at the age of 89.

Whoa Nellie indeed.

Lifting a Fog

For several hours after yesterday’s tentative 20-mile ride I felt fantastic, the best I’ve felt since the roof caved in three weeks ago. Temperatures this morning were in the 60s. I know a sign from the bike gods when I see one. It was time to push things a bit further.

I rode from my house to the Lincoln Memorial and back. For most of the 30-mile ride, I was cruising on flat ground. I felt fine. My lungs and heart felt completely normal. Normal is awesome.

So was the fog. The warm air caused the ice on the Potomac River to create amazing spooky clouds. The southerly breeze pushed the fog up against bridges and buildings. I stopped at the Reflecting Pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial. I could only see a few feet in front of me.

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Mount Vernon Trail heading north out of Belle Haven Park
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The Reflecting Pool and Washington Monument

At the Virginia side of the Memorial Bridge, visibility was nearly zero. I could barely see past my front wheel. I stopped and the wind blew a gap in the fog bank.

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Heading toward Arlington Cemetery on the Memorial Bridge

The ride home was into a steady head wind. If anything would test my heart and lungs. this surely would. After about two miles, I settled into a steady, calm breathing pattern. Dang.

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Fishing in the fog under the Woodrow Wilson Bridge in Jones Point Park

At 26 1/2 miles I decided to try climbing a bill. The Park Terrace Drive hill is well known to local commuters. I can easily break 30 miles per hour riding down it. Riding up it I am lucky to maintain 5 miles per hour. So It was pretty gratifying to see 4.9 on my speedometer only for a moment as I reached the top. It took a few seconds longer than normal for my heart rate to come back down but, having not ridden a hill in over three weeks, I was pretty darned pleased with how it went.

Sitting at home an hour or so later, I feel even better than yesterday. You might say I feel as if a fog has lifted.

 

 

 

Cue the Gene Autry Music

It was 50 degrees out. The sun was (however briefly) shining. There was just one thing to do.

I went out and I rode my damned bike. And, after a few miles adjusting to three weeks off a conventional bike, I settled right in. I stayed on level–ish ground. My windpipe felt a little raw but my lungs didn’t max out and my heart stayed out of the red zone.

Tomorrow will be another warm day. I might try a few hills and, maybe even, go to the gym.

The only downside to the ride was a bit of lightheadedness. This has nothing to do with the ride; it’s a side effect of the medication that I am on. I need to be vigilant lest I glide off into a roadside ditch or take a dip in the Potomac.

When I walked in the house Mrs. Rootchopper was humming the song that was running through my head.

 

Feeling a bit chuffed, I decided to stop procrastinating about setting up a WiFi mesh network in my house. Our house isn’t big but the router is located in a corner of the family room and barely reaches the upper two floors. Following @darsal’s example I bought Google WiFi. The hardest part was finding hook up points for the nodes in my 1960s house. I had to empty a book case to get to an outlet for one node and pick a suboptimal place for a second node because the best spot was next to a wall activated switch. Then I had to connect the printer to the new network. It all took about an hour and works just as advertised. Ta Da.

Okay, so two things went very right today. I have decided to settle in with a book and some tea lest I tempt the fates.

I could point out that it’s been 22 days since my last embolism (a bit like going to lung confession), but it’s better to focus on the fact that spring training starts in 34 days.

 

Recovery: Back to Normal-ish

Three weeks ago my medical crisis began. Today was a normal day like any other with the minor exception that I rode in the basement rather than outside. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was healthy, well adjusted person. Okay, let’s settle for healthy. We can’t expect miracles.

I was a busy boy today. I made two appointments for scans ordered by my pulmonologist, helped arrange for the appliance guy to come fix our dryer, drove to Marlow Heights to get a second key for the Millennium Falcon, my son’s rattle trap of a car, and drove to REI to try on new shoes. (I didn’t like them.) Then, after a meditation break along the river, it was back home to find out I needed to make another scan appointment. Yesterday’s ultrasound didn’t give a clear enough view of my adrenal gland so we’re doing another CT scan. (Certain cancers cause an increase in clotting so the search is on to find or rule out cancer somewhere in my body.) Next up was a 13 mile ride in the basement while reading my book. (It’s called Ramp Hollow. It’s about how the people of Appalachia came to be in their socio-economic predicament.) Finally, I did my complete set of physical therapy exercises including a shoulder stand.

I don’t want to jinx anything, but I feel pretty normal. The only real way I can tell is to try to do more normal things and see what happens. So I need to take a bike out and ride it somewhere. I suspect that if I can handle 20 miles outside on my Cross Check I’m doing just fine. If I can go up a hill without dying (not literally, I hope)  that would be another milestone. Still another test will be to go to the gym and lift weights. I am not Ahnuld so this is more to see how my heart reacts to pumpitude.

Anyway, feeling somewhat normal is pretty flabbergasting to me. It’s been three weeks since the clots decided to go site seeing in my lungs. I felt truly awful for the first week after the pulmonary embolism(s) came to play.

Since it came up in a recent twitter conversation, I should point out that I plan on riding while on blood thinners. Nothing heroic or adventurous just my usual everyday cycling. With a helmet on, of course. For the short term, I just want to see where my fitness (and balance) is. For the long term, I need to be active or I will lose my mind. (Just ask my wife.) How all this translates to bike tours and events is TBD.

I also intend not to let this medical mess turn me into a hermit. In addition to seeing plenty of medical professionals, I plan on going to several non-medical events in the weeks ahead. There’s a wedding on Saturday, a #bikedc happy hour next week, a meeting with the National Park Service about the Mount Vernon Trail the following Saturday, and the WABA Awards get-together in a few weeks. I doubt I’ll ride to these events. There will be plenty of time for riding when it’s warmer and lighter out. Lord willin’ and the clots don’t rise.