Car accident leads to week-long headache

I was in the back seat of the first car

I haven't complained lately about the drivers to Dana-Farber, because actually they've been fine. I have to complain about my ride, however, last week, when another driver on the rainy and windy day, swerving to avoid a car that had hydroplaned, hit the car I was in instead. I was amused by the idea of getting my blood sucked out on Halloween but it wasn't to be.

We were on the ramp at Exit 14 – almost there – so at least we were not going fast. (Most everyone goes further to avoid Route 9 but this driver, Michael, says they are the same.) In any case I was sitting in the back, on the passenger's side (that was another stroke of good luck) and minding my own business eating an apple when I felt an impact from the left side of the car, and my head banged against the window. The car got pushed off onto the side of the road. I got out, as did the girls in both cars. I called 911. Michael called his dispatcher, angrily talking up a blue streak in Russian. (I hope the hit on the head hasn't made me spew out cliches because I realized I just used two of them.) I wish I knew what he was saying. The one behind us said she had just called her mother. I thought maybe she should have called 911 but I did it. She said it was her first accident. I told her nobody died and just breathe. I remember being in an accident and it being my fault and being screamed at and it not being helpful, years ago. You don't cause an accident on purpose so I wasn't really angry but I'm pretty sure I was in shock. 

A paramedic arrived and asked me if I knew my name and then asked if I needed an ambulance. He said he had to get out of there as quickly as possible because it wasn't his jurisdiction. (Sorry for the inconvenience!) The police officer who came said the paramedic could leave. He got everyone's information and said everyone should get off the road. 

Nice setting for rainy day run

I called the Kraft Family Blood Donor Center, where I was scheduled to receive ECP, the light therapy on my blood, and Ellen, the PA, said they couldn't possibly do it because they use a blood  thinner, heparin. Michael said he would take me to the Brigham and Women's emergency room. He got all discombobulated and said he didn't know where it was. I said I could get it on my phone. Then he said he knew where it was, but instead he took me to the Beth Israel Deaconess Hospital ER. Then he turned around and headed towards the Brigham when I said that wasn't it. I could see it on the left but we were stuck in traffic so I said I would just get out and walk the block. (Probably not a good idea.) At check-in, the guard had me stand on line. (Still a New Yorker.) I said I thought I was in a little bit of shock and had been in a car accident and maybe someone could take my information. The next person saw me and got me into triage. My blood pressure was 200 over 83 or 84. I started crying. The nurse took me to a bed in a line of beds in a corridor.

A couple of doctors checked me out and didn't see the need for CAT scans or anything invasive. A doctor gave me some Ativan and two Tylenols and an ibuprofen and said to check in with my primary. The docs said I would need to wait a week to go back for the procedure. I was out of there on time for the frazzled Michael to pick me up. His car was damaged on the drivers' side but it was drivable. I'm lucky that I wasn't sitting behind him because then the impact would have been worse.

Healthy car lunch

I've had a headache on and off all week. My efforts to write have not been fruitful; I get a headache when looking at the screen. I did have to do interviews for the story I'm writing for Chicago Health Magazine, on Parkinson's Disease. There is no real evidence to support a causality between head injuries and Parkinson's, although there is some speculation, but that didn't stop me from going partway over the cliff. Back at the newspaper, we un-woke-ily said we had the disease of the week when we wrote about various horrible things that happened to people. So...here comes another cliche, it is par for the course for me to think I'm going to get Parkinson's. I have had worse head injuries though and so far so good.

I called my internist's office on Monday. I used to see Dr. Berger, now retired, who showed up on the tennis court at the Enfield Tennis Club's Friday mixer last week. He is the doctor who diagnosed me with leukemia. It was definitely interesting to see him the tennis court. I didn't end up playing with him or against him but I might some time. In any case I talked to the secretary for the doctor who replaced him and told her I was considering going to my chiropractor. She said she didn't know about the ER visit and said it was a good idea to go to the chiropractor. Then I got a call from another woman, at the same office, (first Lisa, then Meg) who said she knew of the ER visit and wanted to know if they could help me. Insert eye roll. 

On Monday, Keith McCormick, my chiropractor, did some tests and adjusted my neck. My blood pressure was still high but not crazy like it was. He said the high BP made sense since I've been in pain. He said I probably had a slight concussion and a case of whiplash. I have called the internist's office and left a message for Meg, to see if they want to see me. As it stands, I was scheduled for acupuncture today so I went ahead and did it. I'm going back to see Keith on Friday and going to ECP tomorrow.

I got two calls from Pilgrim Insurance Company, representing the driver of the car I was in. First Greg, then Joanne. I talked to Joanne. She wanted to know what happened. I asked what she knew. She said she didn't know I had gone to the ER and she wanted to know how I got there. PEOPLE. Wasn't there a report? Just talking to her increased my headache, which I thought acupuncture had ameliorated this morning. I told her that my chiropractor said I had a concussion. She said, "JUST a chiropractor? They have different training." I sensed she was getting at something, like, maybe the exam didn't count. I said I have also checked in with my primary. She asked about loss of work. I said I'm a freelance writer who needs to look at a screen and it has been hard to work. She gave me the claim number and said to send the company all my bills.

Today I have a dental checkup. I love Dr. Debian, of Holyoke Dental Associates, and I'll be interested in hearing what he has to say. 

The car accident day had started out well. I figured I should do a little running in preparation for The Hot Chocolate Run. I went 3.5 miles in the drizzle and got a taste of the good feeling of running in the rain. The leaves made a carpet. I was pleased that I had done it and that I hadn't tripped. I made a healthy lunch and sent a photo of it to my friends. I said I had forgotten to put in a fork but was making do. Then I texted that on a more serious note I had been in an accident.

Silver lining: At least the pain in my head has distracted me from my neuropathy.

Adding hills and miles heading toward's St. Patrick's Road Race again

It recently occurred to me that if I can run three miles, I can run another 3.2, in (as I write this), 19 days, 5 hours, 20 minutes and 3 seconds.

That would be Holyoke's St. Patrick's Road Race, the hilly 10K which I used to run all the time but have not run in a couple of years. Last week when I saw my internist, he asked if I was going to run. When I told him that I had gotten back up to three, he said he didn't see a reason why I couldn't do the whole thing even if I walked a little. Doctor's orders? My stamina is good, possibly because I run so slowly that when I did the Hot Chocolate Run, I asked a person on the sidelines if I was walking or jogging. She kindly said I was indeed jogging.

My only problem is my right foot. The big toe and, gasp, yesterday after a five-miler, a twinge in my heel. Working on both of those things.

The other day when I decided to add some hills and get off the route of running around the lakes at Mount Holyoke, I headed out Ferry Street and went to Brunelle's Marina and back, about four miles. It was good to be on the open road, looking at the river and hearing the sounds of birds and wind chimes. I never ran with music because I like to listen to what's around me.

I'm thankful to Carol Constant for giving me the idea that I could run in a race again when she suggested we do The Hot Chocolate Run to support Safe Passage and its executive director, our summer tennis teammate Marianne Winters.

Yesterday Carol and I did five hilly miles. I felt a little bad that my so-called run was equivalent to her fast walk, but she didn't seem to mind, and we spent the time telling some stories. After a bit of this I told her to go on ahead so she could get a real run.

I said something along the lines of "I don't know how I got so slow. I walk much slower too."

This might be comparable to being hit on the head with a hammer and wondering why your head hurts.

Carol set me straight, saying anything I do at this point is great.

I had been having trouble with my blood pressure and briefly went on medicine. I was convinced it was situational (surgery, lack of exercise, Donald Trump) and when two of those things but alas not the third settled down, I got permission from Ellen, the PA at the light therapy at Dana-Farber, to stop taking the medicine and check with my internist. I saw it go down after I started the day with a brief recorded meditation while sitting next to Maddie on the couch.

As all dog lovers know, this is powerful medicine in itself.

A baby visit and a (re) birthday

Musician-in-the-making

A little experiment with my blood pressure monitor shows the effect that reading about politics, and the opposite, sitting quietly, has on me  (and probably on some others).

 When I took it after glancing at all the bad news on Twitter this morning, it was 154/77. I took it about five minutes later after closing the cover on my laptop and sitting for about five minutes, and it was 103/78. I don't know what to make of it when the upper number is high and the lower number is normal, but in any case in looking at the top number I could see the difference.

I'm sure it was fine on Friday because I had such a good time when Nell and Ben came to visit. We took a little walk with Maddie, but it was too cold and windy, so we had lunch and played inside. She enjoyed sitting at the piano that my parents gave Ben on a day that seems like yesterday. I sent it home with them to go with the other instruments in her "band."

She also liked "talking" on two old remotes. I'm not sure why I'm keeping them. Maybe for nostalgia because I don't like the new system with the blue talk-to-me button. Or because they're good pretend phones.

As I've gotten back to exercising, I can feel the repercussions of the three-week gap the most in yoga.

On Thursday after class, I knew that my arms would soon be sore from doing down dog and plank. On Saturday as soon as we did the first pose, I realized how sore my forearms were. I thought, maybe I should leave. But of course I didn't, instead doing child's pose when I needed a break.

I also did legs up the wall when they did box pose for handstand preparation. Way back before leukemia, I had been able to do this with help from my teacher, Erin, who had me put a strap around my forearms to provide a sense of stability.

I am better at acknowledging without judgment "that was then, this is now" with yoga than I am with tennis or running, when I sometimes compare what I used to be able to do with what I can do now. The metaphor of the yoga class is one of sticking around and doing something that's good enough for that moment even if not as advanced as before.

In any case, today at tennis I hit some pretty good net shots and had some long rallies. This is a lot better than I could do eight years ago, when I could only walk around my hospital room or the nurses' station or sit in my chair or lie in my bed while awaiting my new stem cells.

They arrived eight years ago tomorrow.