Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa Scooter and Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle.

Post-Heart Attack Breakfast

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Breakfast of cereal, toast and fruitDaily Choice for a Post-Heart Attack Breakfast

A heart attack almost two years ago has transformed breakfast.  The once daily stops at McDonalds for a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit with a hash brown chaser has been replaced with something more predictably healthy.  Less fat.  Fewer calories.

Just about everyday now starts in the same breakfast arena; shredded wheat sweetened with raisin bran floating in skim milk, blueberries when I remember them, some sort of toast with barely a teaspoon of Promise margarine, fruit, at least one glass of water and a small handful of pills.

Luckily my culinary palate is simple and requires little variety.  It gets me going and fuels what comes next.

Vespa GTS scooter along highway at sunriseStarting the Day

At the end of February in central Pennsylvania and I’m riding to work in the morning in 50F air.  The sun was beaming through the clouds to offer a fine greeting for another day.  Riding in these circumstances is just plain, unfettered joy.  In less than 130 days I won’t feel the pressure of the clock as I ride into retirement.

I’m thinking a disciplined approach to a post-heart attack breakfast will help keep the days going smoothly.

Vespa GTS scooter near Penn State's Beaver StadiumRoad to Work

Riding across a familiar gravel road on the way to the office I just had to stop to admire the views.  Beaver Stadium, home to Penn State’s Nittany Lion football team looms on the horizon.  I’ve stood in this spot many times.  It hasn’t grown old yet.

Perhaps it never will.

2017 Brave, Bold Blogger Challenge

This post is part of a month long writing prompt challenge conceived by Kathy at Toadmama.com.

The Big Pinch

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Vespa GTS scooter at a medical facilityMedical Vespa

After a week of no riding, I made my way to a Saturday afternoon visit with a local medical facility to have some blood drawn for tests.  I’ll be visiting my cardiologist for the first time since I had my heart attack last year.  Only makes sense to see how the red stuff is doing in response to changes in living.  Diet – check.  Exercise — check.  Stress reduction — check.  Sleep.  Well, sort of check.

Haven’t ridden since that little jaunt.  Back is still stiff and there’s enough sudden weakness that leaving the Vespa in the garage makes sense.

The only thing noteworthy about the trip was the big pinch.  Sitting in a chair in the lab the phlebotomist had my arm tied off with a piece of rubber tubing, wiping throbbing veins as she scrubbed skin with alcohol, all part of a familiar drill.  And then, as she focused her gaze on the vein she says, “Big pinch”.

Big pinch?  What?  My mind races immediately wondering what is about to happen.  Every other time I’ve had blood drawn they say “Little pinch”.  Little.  As in small, insignificant.

Little pinch.  Not big pinch.

As my mind is racing I see the blood filling glass tubes.  Wait.  What?  That’s no pinch.  Didn”t feel a thing.

After a short interrogation she tells me she doesn’t like to disappoint anyone so she crys, “Big pinch!”.  No one is disappointed when there’s no pinch.

The highlight of my riding week…

Accepting the Path Ahead

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yellow lines down a country roadWhile the road may appear straight and the destination clear, there are endless possibilities for interruption – a tree limb, a vestige of a truck tire, a distracted driver or a sudden dash of a deer. A routine ride can suddenly become a tragic event. I’ve considered many possible challenges on the road and have worked through strategies to address them. Finding a measure of calm and focus is important and I have developed a sort of fateful acceptance of what I might face on the road and in life.

That fateful acceptance was tested when I walked into the Emergency Room at Mount Nittany Medical Center on Thursday evening.

Vespa GTS 250ie scooterA few days earlier I had been riding the Vespa on a few errands with a minor detour to enjoy some of the more open areas of the valley. After a long day a ride offers an opportunity to clear away the noise of the day and focus on what’s in front of you, excluding everything that doesn’t matter to the riding task at hand.

Standing in the emergency room I tried to summon that ability to focus on the task at hand and push the anxiety and fear aside for the moment. As succinctly as possible I described the events of the day to the triage nurse that brought me to her. Extreme fatigue in the afternoon, early to bed only to awake to pain in my left arm, nausea, heartburn, and shortness of breath. At home my blood pressure measured 200/105, a marked departure from my usual 120/70.

Steve Williams and his Vespa scooterThe solitary nature of riding has been instructive activity and has contributed to the unraveling of personal mysteries and shortcomings. I believe many non-riders think of two-wheeled life as a physical indulgence that’s both ego driven and fraught with danger. And on the surface, I might not disagree. But in a complex, harried world it can provide the mindful rider with a haven for relaxation, introspection and escape from the well-worn grooves of everyday drama.

I think the triage nurse was surprised to see my blood pressure standing at 210/110 and immediately send me to a bed where a technician did an EKG.

Heart function was normal.

Vespa GTS 250ie in the countrysideRiding under a gathering gray sky is probably my favorite time to be on the road. Knowing the weather is changing and not sure what I’ll have to manage triggers a twinge of excitement as I consider how I might be tested. I’m certain it drives my encounters with winter.

The emergency room doctor questioned me on my medical history and symptoms as she worked to determine what to do with the high blood pressure while a nurse inserted an IV line into my arm and injected an anti-nausea medication that I could taste in seconds. Amazing how fast things move in the body. A minute later the nausea subsided and I realized the heartburn was actually pain.

While the doctor and nurse were in the hall discussing next steps I began to sweat and had trouble breathing. The pain in my arm and chest moved from annoying to something I can only assume was reserved for people who have lived on hot dogs, bacon cheeseburgers and little chocolate donuts.

For the first time in my life I pushed the red button.

Vespa and farm treeCentral Pennsylvania’s agricultural landscape is dotted with solitary trees that once served to provide shade for plow horses when farmers stopped for their midday meal. I see them as quiet testaments to life in a world where things change.  Not matter how many times I pass this particular tree I almost always stop.  I did this past week.

The ER doctor looked at me and asked for another EKG and it minutes it was apparent I was having a heart attack.

Things happen quickly in an ER when someone rings the heart attack bell. The rather mellow two person interaction suddenly swirled into a team of people acting in a precision dance of actions as they readied me for something yet to be determined. One person was shaving my arms and groin while another was placing a nitroglycerin tablet under my tongue. Morphine was pushed through the IV port and a cardiologist was on his way.

The pain got worse as I watched the ceiling lights on my way to the Cardiac Catherization Lab.

IV ports in my armsRemnants of my arrival at the ER – ports still in my arms in case they need to push drugs into me in a hurry.

The catherization team was outstanding – friendly yet undoubtedly professionally focused in ways I’ll never understand. They were able to convert what could have been frightening into something surprisingly mechanical. At least for me, they kept me focused on what they were doing so I wouldn’t panic with thoughts that I could die. I remember joking with them, thinking it would have been cool to have ridden the Vespa to my heart attack experience because it would have made a better blog post, but mostly thinking I hope they stop the pain.

A catheter was inserted into my wrist where the cardiologist determined my right coronary artery was 100 percent blocked. I remember feeling a sudden departure of the pain and muttering, “The morphine must have kicked in.”. The doctor said we just restored your blood flow.

I’m not sure how long this all took but afterwards they showed me computer images of my artery before and after a drug-eluting stent was inserted. It looked dramatic to me and I felt like a new man save for some wooziness from the morphine.

Steve Williams in the ICU at Mount Nittany Medical CenterI’ve been in the ICU for about 36 hours now and feel remarkably better. The cardiologist said I’ll probably feel better than I have in a long time since blood flow has likely been restricted for awhile. And it was good to hear that I could resume life as normal. Well, not quite.
I will certainly be able to do everything physically I did before and they actually expect a little more from me. The doctor stressed I am not fragile. Lifestyle changes are part of the adventure ahead that will affect medication, diet and exercise, two things I’ve fought a losing battle with for decades. Now that I have more concrete proof that I’m not indestructible I’ll have to tap into some of the riding focus to take a little better care of myself.

There is much to be grateful for with access to medical care being one of them. Since I got in quickly there was little damage to my heart and the cardiologist expects I’ll not notice any limitations. Accepting the path ahead is already done as I plan some changes. The devil is in the details though and Kim, our kids and friends will help to move things forward as we embark on another adventure.

And if I understand the cardiologist correctly, I can go for a scooter ride on Monday!