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Back at the Cottage

 

Back at the Cottage

Wednesday, July 27, 2022

19:46

Back at the cottage, I feel like I’ve lost a week of my life, but being in isolation will do that to you. Not only do I find myself having to come out of a place of physical isolation, it’s the mental isolation I experienced, too. I find myself looking at places and things that seem at once familiar, but surreal as well.

 

I’ve become quite weak. Muscles atrophy quickly when not used. Between being sick and in isolation meant I didn’t exercise at all for a week. Not only have I lost strength, I have become clumsy and a little off balance. Because I’m still recovering from the infections, I have to move ever so slowly in anything I do otherwise I become breathless. Bending over is definitely not a good idea. I could see how that action could lead to passing out. A friend also with PF said, “just don’t bend over” to which I replied, “you mean like they tell you in prison?”. Not sure that line went over like it was supposed to. If I really need something that would normally require bending over, I can squat to reach it, but it still makes me take a few moments to catch my breath.

 

Now I’m learning to live with oxygen at home. This means wearing tubing that blows oxygen into your nostrils and is held in place by placing one part of the tubing over each ear (see photo exhibit A). It’s not comfortable and the tubing does rub against the skin where it touches. Irritating, but necessary. A respiratory tech from Vital Aire came to the cottage to help set things up. I learned all about operating an oxygen concentrator. We placed it in a central location at the cottage with enough tubing to reach the important parts of the cottage: the bathroom and my bed, in that order. It’s a noisy machine with a low frequency moan that sounds something like a generator. It’s not quiet and unfortunately takes something away from the tranquility of this place.

 

Perhaps the most important caveat of being on oxygen at home is I cannot be within ten feet of an open flame, which means sadly no candles, no BBQ, no incense, no smokers, and Johnny Storm, The Human Torch, can’t visit anymore.

 

I don’t yet have a portable oxygen concentrator. I’m tied to the cottage for now. I’m hoping to get one next week. For the time being, I was given a couple of tanks so I could travel in the car to appointments. One tank is good up to five hours, the other for two hours at a low flow level. We had a 5-hour tank that was down to half. We made into town and back before the tank red-lined. I can breathe without oxygen for short periods of time, 15 minutes to half an hour, without anything serious happening, but I have to remain still and calm. If I am off oxygen, it means not yelling at the SUV with NB plates crossing into our lane in the five roundabouts on St. Peters.

 

It is an interesting life adaptation being tied to oxygen. I can’t just walk outside when I want to anymore. I’m limited to the length of the leash. Wearing the tubing is only one part. Dragging 14 feet of tubing around behind you means it gets caught on things and people inadvertently stand on the tubing. Having oxygen being blown into my nostrils is something I’ve grown used to more quickly than I would have thought. It’s life saving and I’m grateful to have it and to be able to afford it.

 

Being at the cottage is a tonic. I know being here will help restore my health and well-being.

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