Heart Newsreel

Today we met a new physician on my husband’s growing heart failure team.  She oversees the cardiac rehabilitation program, working with the four nurses who monitor him during his treadmill sessions.

“You shouldn’t be doing so well, according to your earlier charts,” she told him, wide-eyed and incredulous as we entered the office.  “I couldn’t have expected you’d progress like this!”  

Really?  We didn’t know!

The visit was a breath of fresh air blown right smack dab into some serious business. We spoke with her for almost forty-five minutes, and were grateful she addressed aspects of his ongoing journey that had not yet been brought to light.

She optimistically touched on futuristic goals he’d assumed were gone forever: golf and water skiing.  If eyes are indeed the window of the soul, then I could see light shining down somewhere in my husband’s heart, pouring out like reflected sunlight and spilling into the room.  He was delighted to know she thought it not unrealistic to hope, and even plan, for such activities.

“You must learn to listen to your body, though.  "Your body will tell you when something is wrong.”  Throughout our discussion she repeated this at least half a dozen times, nose-to-nose and eye-to-eye like an old-fashioned schoolmarm driving home a lesson with a switch behind her back.  “Pay attention,” she told him.  “If you’re even slightly short-of-breath, your body is telling you to stop what you’re doing.  And you should let your cardiologist know.”  She looked right through him.  “You’ve got to pay attention.”

She also praised him, and applauded his disciplined approach to drug therapies and an almost-squeaky-clean diet.  “Your lifestyle is definitely helping, probably a lot,” she said. When we brought up concern over exercising regularly after cardiac rehab ends in April, she gestured emphatically and laughed.  “Whoever can go gluten-free, dairy-free, and sugar-free can surely get in some exercise somehow!”

At her suggestion, we will be purchasing a pulse oximeter (the little thing like a chip-bag-clip that pinches the tip of your finger to read oxygen levels) and a medical alert bracelet (a bracelet holding a tiny copy of his current medical records that can stay on his person at all times and be helpful in the case of an emergency). 

We were renewed and re-motivated by this appointment, ready to continue on doing our best. To celebrate, this afternoon I tried a new alternative cookie recipe and added it to our growing repertoire, a heart-happy, chocolate chip cookie made with almond flour, stevia, and ground bits of raw, unprocessed cocoa beans (cocoa nibs).  They’re not clones of the infamous Toll House cookies, but who needs those anyway?  Toll House cookies go down smooth, but they’re addictive; we eat too many and then feel sick and grumpy.  (Be honest now.  Isn't that the truth?)  The cookies I made today are soft, protein-and-antioxidant-packed, low-carb, and tasty in their own right.  They’re real food without so much addictive draw, but gorging on them (it’s always a possibility when they’re so delicious, right?) would be a lot more user-friendly than glutting on Toll House cookies.

While I’m on the topic of dessert, and who doesn’t like the topic of dessert, here’s more! Yesterday the heart patient complained that he oh-so-desperately craved just one measly slice of the big chocolate cake I made for our grandson’s Scout auction (see blog for 2-15 for a picture).  As the highest bidder, he purchased it for $50 and then gave it to the Scout and his family with his saliva flowing, tastebuds screaming, resolve wavering. 

After this noble act, I rewarded him by baking an allowed chocolate cake (almond flour and stevia again) lavished with a thick slab of alternative chocolate frosting made with raw cashews, coconut oil, dates, and cocoa.  It was incredible.  Something off the front cover of Southern Living or Taste of Home with taste-appeal that could equal that of recipes in the cookbook entitled, Death by Chocolate.  It was that good.