Lung Days

99% of the time, I live quite normally. As I noted on my home page, the whole point of this blog and project is to encourage people with chronic diseases and incurable conditions to find life in their days and do what they can to find joy in things. I went from being miserable and caught up in the fear and anger that goes with such a diagnosis to living again, upon hearing the song “So Alive” by the Goo Goo Dolls. No matter how you feel about the band, I know what they did for me. Most of the feedback I have been getting about these posts has been positive so far, and I appreciate that. But there have been a few naysayers who don’t like the Goo Goo Dolls or the perfume I wrote about last time or whatever.

Those people either aren’t reading the posts, are reading them but not getting the point, or are reading them, getting the point, and are simply trolls. I respect the opinions of you, my readers. But this is not a space for negativity and nastiness, and I will not tolerate it. Want to be that way? Move along. There are plenty of other websites and blogs out there. You are wasting your own precious time reading something you don’t agree with, and those of us who probably don’t have a lot of time left certainly don’t have it for you.

Now that I’ve made that statement, I will move on to the point of this post: lung days.

Lung days are days when I am forced to be aware of my condition, when the disease announces its presence and reminds me it is always there. Last Sunday was such a day.

I went to OrangeTheory that morning, feeling very good after a solid night of sleep and lots of hydration. I started on the rowing machine and did very well. Then I moved to the floor, where we were to do planks, alternating shoulder touches while in the plank position, then double crunches. My heart rate was up because of the rower, but I got through the first round of the exercises with only a minimal amount of pressure in my chest area. During the second round, I felt as if all the air was being squeezed from my lungs, and when I flipped over to do the double crunches, I felt the blood rush to my head and more pressure in my chest. And on the third round, the pressure became too much and I blacked out. I was only out for a few seconds, but it was enough to scare everyone around me and embarrass the heck out of me.

With pulmonary hypertension (and the valve disease it has caused in my case), certain movements can cause this to happen. I was told never to do chest presses while laying on a bench. At least not with heavy weight. I have to limit overhead presses too. I have trouble with pretty much all inverted yoga poses, including down dog if I hold it too long.

I put a lot of strain on my arms when in a plank position, and my tightened core also diverts blood back through my vena cava to the right side of my heart. The pressure becomes too much and my heart can’t pump enough oxygenated blood (thanks to the narrow vessels in my lungs), or compensate for the increased pressure. I get dizzy, my vision gets fuzzy, and everything goes black. This is really the first time it’s happened; I have come very close to passing out in the past while doing the chest presses during Body Pump before being diagnosed many years ago.

The OrangeTheory instructor was wide-eyed when I returned a few days later and made a modified routine for me. So did the instructor at Crunch Fitness today. It’s kind of embarrassing. And it’s another sign my disease might be progressing.

Or maybe I just worked too hard that day, and the disease is unchanged.

Those of you with chronic conditions understand how frustrating limitations can be. But despite the emotions that go with having to modify my routine while others carry on getting stronger and more fit, I have learned to feel the “twang” of fear and sadness, then let it go by. I decided to keep going to the gym and keep race walking and hiking despite my slowness.

It would be easy to back down in the face of this new development, to retreat back into that place of darkness and fear. But the song “So Alive” is not about that. It always comes to mind when I am challenged with a new symptom, along with other songs from the “Boxes” album. “Over and Over”, “Long Way Home”, and “Soul in the Machine” can all set me straight and give me courage to push onward.

If you want to exercise, please make sure it is okay with your doctor first. Although I am a nurse with many years of critical care experience, I am not qualified to decide what you can and cannot do. My own doctor advised against swimming, pressing weights overhead (or doing chest presses with heavy weight), and avoiding high altitude. But studies have shown exercise to be both mentally and physically beneficial in pulmonary hypertension.

I will keep doing what I do and will try not to scare any coaches, gym instructors, or fellow hikers anymore.