Tag: brain stroke recovery

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Kitten Recovery Updates: Last Day of Medication

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Kitten Recovery Update after the Surgery.

Today marks a small milestone in our cat’s recovery:
the last morning of two-pill duty.

I handled the medication this time while my wife was in a meeting. The process went smoothly—no dramatic protests, which I now consider a professional achievement. The pills still left her quite sedated, though she has started to wake up gradually.

For now, she remains firmly attached to my lap.

She clearly senses that something is not quite right and continues to seek constant comfort. She alternates between my wife and me, as if conducting a careful study on which human provides the best emotional support.

Encouragingly, her appetite has returned in full force. In fact, she is eating more today than in the past couple of days, which feels like a clear sign of recovery. Either that, or she is preparing for her grand comeback.

We have also noticed something interesting—her onesie appears to be getting “smaller.” More accurately, she may be getting slightly rounder due to limited movement and strong eating habits. My wife has documented this phase thoroughly with photos, ensuring this chapter of her life will never be forgotten.

Yesterday, she attempted a bold escape and managed to free herself halfway out of the onesie. We found her looking quite proud—and slightly disheveled. Thankfully, her incision remained untouched and looked fine upon inspection, so we simply reassembled the outfit and tightened the collar strap.

So far, that adjustment has worked. No repeat escape attempts last night… although we remain cautiously optimistic.

Going Forward

She still needs to stay on restricted activity for about another week to allow proper healing and for the sutures to absorb. The vet suggested a range of 10 to 14 days, but based on her current energy level, we suspect she will be ready closer to day 10.

That said, readiness will not be decided by enthusiasm alone. We will carefully check her incision before granting full freedom.

At the moment, she is growing more restless. Being confined to one room does not align with her usual lifestyle of running, jumping, and general chaos.

For now, however, patience is part of the treatment plan—for both the patient and the caretakers.

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Kitten Recovery and Her Onesie, Determined Little Patient

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Kitten Recovery and Her Onesie

This morning began with a small but impressive discovery:
Our cat had partially escaped her onesie.

When I walked into the room, I found her with both front legs free, looking rather proud of herself. Fortunately, the incision remained covered, and after a quick inspection, everything looked intact. No licking, no damage—just a bold attempt at freedom.

Our cat is nothing if not determined. Once she decides something must happen, she commits fully. The onesie, apparently, has become her current adversary.

After reviewing the situation, I suspect the issue came down to user error—specifically, ours. The collar may not have been tightened enough. The onesie includes an adjustable cord, so we secured it more firmly this time. With luck, this will prevent future escape attempts… though I would not underestimate her creativity.

She only has one more day of mandatory pain medication. The vet mentioned we can request more if needed, and we will keep that option open. The challenge, of course, is that cats are experts at hiding pain. They prefer subtlety, which makes observation a bit like detective work.

At the moment, she looks mildly miserable in her onesie.

On the bright side, her appetite remains strong—perhaps too strong. Since we are limiting her movement during recovery, she is gaining a bit of weight. A well-fed but slightly annoyed patient is still a good sign overall.

We even took a few photos and shared them with friends and family. Objectively, she looks very cute in the onesie.

Subjectively, she strongly disagrees.

Now we are counting down the days. In about ten days, she should be free from her temporary outfit. While the onesie is practical and undeniably adorable, I am quite certain she will celebrate its removal with great enthusiasm.Until then, we remain on escape-watch, adjusting straps, monitoring recovery, and negotiating daily with a very determined little patient.

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Kitten Recovery After Spay Surgery

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

This morning began with a delicate operation: administering two pills to our cat.

Surprisingly, she handled it quite well. After a small meal, she climbed onto my lap and stayed there for most of the day, as if she had officially decided I was her recovery station.

My wife returned to work today—duty called, especially during audit season—so I took full responsibility for medication duty. I had been observing her technique closely, and today I attempted it myself. Thankfully, it worked. No dramatic protests, no long negotiations—just a quick, efficient delivery.

Both pills were painkillers with sedative effects, which meant our usually energetic kitten transformed into a very quiet, very sleepy version of herself. She did not even purr while I petted her, which felt unusual enough to double-check that she was still, in fact, our cat.

She spent most of the day asleep on me.

As a result, I skipped my push-up session—clearly, I had been reassigned as “human heating pad.” However, I still managed to complete my planking and stretching, so I consider that a partial victory in discipline.

At this stage, she needs constant reassurance. We gave her another dose of medication later so she would remain calm through the night. She clearly senses that something is different. She is less alert, more subdued, and far sleepier than usual. For a naturally athletic and energetic cat, this must feel like an entirely different life.

For now, we are keeping her in my office to limit her movement. If she suddenly remembers that she enjoys running and jumping, we would prefer not to witness that experiment.

We also dressed her in a post-surgery onesie to prevent her from licking the incision. She is still adjusting to the concept of “wearing clothes,” which she does not fully appreciate. At one point, she attempted to reverse out of it—a bold but unsuccessful strategy. The onesie, however, does its job well. It allows her to sleep comfortably and eat more easily compared to the cone.

When my wife returned home, she immediately took over comforting duties. Our kitten clearly wants to stay close to someone at all times. At one point, my wife tried moving her to the bedroom, but we quickly relocated her back to the office—she was already showing signs of wanting to resume her normal, highly active lifestyle.

For now, rest remains the priority.

The good signs are there: she is eating well, sleeping deeply, and gradually settling into recovery mode.

With a bit more rest—and perhaps fewer wardrobe complaints—she should be back to her usual energetic self very soon.

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Kitten Spay Surgery Day: A Stressful Morning with a Happy Ending

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today, it was our kitten-spay-surgery-day, and it was a very important and slightly dramatic day for our kitty.

This morning started as usual. She woke up with me and immediately led us downstairs, full of energy and expectation, ready for breakfast. Unfortunately, she did not realize that today came with… restrictions. Because of the surgery, she had not been allowed to eat after 8 p.m. last night.

So while she confidently marched toward her food bowl, we had a different plan.

The moment she entered the room, I gently (but decisively) placed her into the carrier. She looked at me with the kind of betrayal usually reserved for tragic novels. I felt terrible—but we still had to take her to the vet.

Thankfully, my wife had the day off for Presidents’ Day, which made everything easier. She could stay home and pick our kitty up as soon as the clinic called.

After we dropped her off, the waiting began.

I felt worried, but my wife looked even more concerned. She mentioned the paperwork we had to sign before the procedure—the standard forms that politely remind you that even routine surgeries carry risks. Rationally, we knew this was normal. Emotionally, it still made the situation feel heavier.

A couple of hours later, we finally received the call:
the surgery went well.

Relief arrived instantly.

The vet told us she would be ready to go home in a few more hours. Those hours felt long, of course—but I still had things to do. Now I had a clear deadline, so I quickly prepared and went out for my run.

After finishing my run and showering, it was finally time to bring her home.

When we picked her up, she was wearing the classic “cone of shame” and still a bit groggy from the sedatives. She looked mildly offended by the entire situation and will probably hold that opinion for the next few days.

Fortunately, my wife ordered a surgical onesie, which should arrive tomorrow. Once that comes in, our kitty can retire from cone life—something she will deeply appreciate.

For now, we also have to give her medication over the next few days. Luckily, my wife has experience. She used to work at a cat shelter during university, so she has mastered the art of administering pills to cats—quickly and efficiently, ideally before the cat fully understands what just happened.

Her method is simple:
be fast, be calm, and leave the cat slightly confused rather than suspicious.

In the end, the difficult parts are temporary. The long-term benefit—no future discomfort from heat cycles—is permanent.

Our kitty may be annoyed today, slightly dramatic tomorrow, and mildly judgmental for a few days…

But soon enough, she will forget all of this and return to her usual energetic, pouncy self.

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Managing Anemia and Kidney Health After Stroke

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today’s adventure involved meeting a new doctor, a hematologist for managing anemia and kidney health after a stroke. After breakfast, I prepared myself for the short but slightly ceremonial journey to the medical complex via Uber.

This appointment began with my nephrologist. During my last visit, he informed me that my red blood cell count had dropped. That immediately reminded me of the year I had my brain stroke, when my blood levels also fell dramatically.

For years, I assumed the low blood count came from the blood loss during the stroke. Apparently, that explanation was only part of the story. This time, the culprit seems to be my kidney condition.

When I mentioned this to my wife, she looked noticeably worried—though she tried not to show it too much.

Since my stroke, she has quietly retired me from driving duties. My reaction speed is slower now, and she prefers not to gamble with traffic physics. It was not possible for my wife to take me to the clinic.  She is deep in the middle of a financial audit, which in accounting terms means time no longer belongs to the accountant.

So Uber became my transportation department for the day.

I arrived about fifteen minutes early and began the famous new patient questionnaire, which turned out to be less of a form and more of a short autobiography. Nearly an hour later, I finished writing what felt like my complete medical history.

Naturally, once I completed it, the medical assistant brought me into the exam room and asked all the same questions again.

Apparently, redundancy is a cornerstone of modern medicine.

Eventually, the doctor arrived. After reviewing everything, he told me it sounded like I had been managing my overall condition quite well. The next step would likely involve treatment to stimulate red blood cell production, depending on what the latest blood tests show.

After the consultation, I went downstairs for the inevitable blood draw. Medical visits often feel like a carefully choreographed sequence: talk about blood, then provide blood.

Now the plan is straightforward. In about two weeks, I will return, and they will likely give me an injection to help boost red blood cell production. After that, they will monitor how well the treatment works.

This is not entirely new territory for me. About ten years ago, I received similar injections for several months when my blood count dropped. This time, the treatment will probably last longer. I will likely visit the hematologist twice a month until May.

Not exactly my favorite social activity—but necessary.

At this point in my health journey, I try to approach these things calmly. One appointment, one test, one treatment at a time. Medicine, much like life, often works best when handled step by step.

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Oversleeping and Still Winning the Morning: A Runner’s Small Victory

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

So this is how I got away with oversleeping and still winning the morning.

This morning began with what looked like a promising start—and then quietly derailed.

I actually woke up before my alarm. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I returned to bed for what I assumed would be a brief rest. Unfortunately, my brain interpreted that as permission for a second sleep session.

The next thing I remember was hearing my wife get up and leave for her morning exercise. Shortly after the front door closed, my alarm went off. I turned it off and thought, very logically, that I would get up after she returned so we would not both compete for the bathroom.

In theory, this sounded like a perfectly organized plan.

In reality, it made absolutely no sense.

My wife usually leaves before 6:30 a.m., while my alarm rings at 7:00. Looking back, the most likely explanation is that I simply fell asleep again and missed everything—including her return from exercise, her getting ready, and her leaving for work.

My wife operates on a far stricter schedule than I do. She arrives at work earlier than most people because she likes to clear her emails before colleagues and bosses begin their day. Meanwhile, my morning apparently turned into a quiet demonstration of the dangers of comfortable pillows.

I had intended to start my day at 7:00 a.m.

Instead, I woke up when my calendar reminder sounded at 8:00.

One hour behind schedule.

Normally, that might derail the entire morning, because my routine includes a long chain of small tasks. If one falls behind, the rest tend to domino into chaos. Today, however, I decided to move quickly and avoid lingering over anything.

Efficiency replaced elegance.

Surprisingly, it worked.

I caught up with my morning tasks and still managed to leave for my run at roughly the time I had planned the night before when I checked the weather forecast.

Even better, the run itself went well. My legs felt a little sore at the start, but I still managed to beat my target pace for the first time this week.

So while the day technically began with oversleeping, it ended with something close to success.

Not perfect—but proof that sometimes a late start does not ruin the day if you simply keep moving forward.

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Lessons from an Imperfect Oven from Baking

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

You can learn anything from many things. I learned lessons from an imperfect oven.

Today I set out to bake a lemon pound cake to snack on during the week. I’ve tried this recipe several times before—with mixed results. Sometimes it turns out beautifully, and other times… well, it becomes a learning experience.

I chose lemon pound cake partly because I enjoy it and partly because I have been trying to maintain my weight. Having a homemade snack on hand helps me avoid random snacking.

I started baking in the afternoon, and the results remain uncertain for now. The cake is still cooling after spending about 50 minutes longer in the oven than the recipe suggested.

Here are some lessons from an imperfect Oven.

The main culprit is our oven. It is very old and wildly inaccurate when it comes to temperature. We have discussed replacing it someday, but until that day arrives, every baking project becomes a small scientific experiment.

The second factor may be the silicone loaf pan I used this time. Silicone insulates differently from metal, so the cake may have needed more time to bake through. Once the initial baking time passed, I began checking the cake every five to ten minutes, waiting for the tester to come out clean—or at least mostly clean.

Even after the extra baking time, I still worried the center might be slightly undercooked. However, the top had already turned a beautiful golden brown, and I did not want to risk burning it. At some point, baking becomes a negotiation between undercooked and overcooked.

So I made the executive decision: take it out.

Now the cake sits on the counter cooling quietly, holding the answer to whether this attempt succeeded. I will only know the truth once I slice into it later.

Last time I baked one, I offered it to my wife. She politely ate a slice—maybe half a slice—but sweets are not really her weakness. She is also trying to lose weight, so giving her an entire pound cake might not qualify as thoughtful support.

Which means, realistically, I will probably end up eating most of it myself.

If the cake turns out well, that will be a reward.
If not, it will still count as valuable research in the ongoing science of baking with a temperamental oven.

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Staying Consistent in Unpredictable Weather

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

The weather in Nashville has been behaving like a rollercoaster lately. Yesterday the temperature jumped up by about 20°F, and today it dropped by nearly the same amount. So winter, after briefly pretending to leave, has returned with enthusiasm.

Since my brain stroke, my body does not regulate temperature very well. My practical solution has been simple: adjust the outfit instead of fighting the weather. Even so, the cold this morning made me check the forecast twice just to confirm we were not facing another surprise snow day. Fortunately, there was no snow—at least not today.

Unless we have lightning, ice storms, or heavy snow, I try to keep my running routine. Consistency matters to me, so I run whenever conditions allow it.

When winter temperatures drop too much, I usually wait until the warmest part of the day before heading out. Nashville winters can feel colder than they appear, especially for someone whose internal thermostat does not cooperate. If I can avoid the worst cold, I will.

Cold weather affects my runs more than I would like. My body spends so much effort trying to stay warm that it leaves less energy for actual running. On Saturdays, I usually run 10 km, and ideally, I prefer conditions that are neither too cold nor too hot.

Today, however, timing worked against me.

I delayed the run longer than usual while waiting for the temperature to improve, which started to disrupt the rest of our Saturday schedule. Eventually, I decided that waiting any longer would only make things worse.

So I went out and ran anyway.

Even in the afternoon, the air remained stubbornly cold. My pace was slower than usual, which felt a bit disappointing. Still, I finished the full 10K despite the strong temptation to cut it short.

In winter running, sometimes the real achievement is not speed—it is simply showing up and finishing.

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Warm Winter Essentials: Switching to Insulated Pants After a Cold Season

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Over the years, after my brain stroke, I came to realize it’s important to know the warm winter essentials. Today, I officially retired my old sweatpants and upgraded to a new pair my wife ordered for me. The decision was long overdue. She had noticed a hole in the knee—courtesy of our cat—and gently declared that the pants had reached the end of their honorable service life.

To be fair, I tend to use clothing for a very long time. If something still functions, I keep it. However, the hole had grown well beyond its original “claw-sized” stage, and the fabric itself had become noticeably thin. At that point, even I had to admit the insulation had quietly retired years ago.

My wife specifically searched for something very warm because I am almost always cold. She explained that some pants have better insulation, and my old pair once did too—before age gradually wore it away. Fabric, much like people, loses resilience over time.

Since today was laundry day, it felt like the perfect moment to make the swap. The difference was immediate. The new pants are significantly warmer, have no mysterious knee ventilation, and include a soft insulating inner layer. The warmth was almost surprising.

We also keep the house relatively cool in winter because my wife prefers a moderate indoor temperature. She usually sets it around 65°F (18°C), believing that overly hot houses in winter—and overly cold ones in summer—are not ideal for health. As a result, I normally rely on hoodies and extra layers to stay comfortable.

Since my brain stroke, my temperature regulation has not been the same. Without layered clothing, I often feel cold even on warmer days. At times, I can feel hot and cold simultaneously, which is as confusing as it sounds. It is as if my internal thermostat occasionally sends mixed signals.

One amusing detail: the inside of the new pants is so well insulated that the outside fabric can feel cool to the touch while the inside stays very warm. Apparently, my body heat now creates a cozy zone—because our kitten has started choosing my chest or belly as her preferred resting spot. Clearly, she has conducted her own thermal research and approved the results.

My wife even suggested buying an extra pair as a spare, but I declined. I still have another pair for laundry rotation, and buying too many would feel unnecessary. Warmth is important, but so is practicality.

That said, I must admit: I genuinely like these new pants. Sometimes, a small upgrade in daily comfort makes a noticeable difference—especially during a cold season where warmth quietly becomes a daily priority.

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Managing Potassium, Kidney Health, and Anemia Step by Step

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

After my recent visit to the nephrologist, I learned a few important things about my current health. One of the biggest concerns was how to maintain my kidney health and anemia.

First, the good news: my latest blood panel showed that my potassium levels have returned to normal. That was a relief. The dietary changes I’ve been following seem to be working, so I plan to continue them carefully. With kidney conditions, consistency matters more than enthusiasm. One good result does not mean I can suddenly negotiate with potassium again.

However, the appointment also revealed that I have become anemic.

This part was not entirely surprising. I have a genetic blood condition called thalassemia, which often makes me appear anemic on lab results. My nephrologist already knows this, but the lab report suggests that this time the anemia relates more directly to my kidney condition rather than genetics alone. Because of that, I received a referral to a hematologist.

Hearing the word “anemia” brought back memories of the year I had my brain stroke. At that time, I lost a significant amount of blood, and my kidneys were in stage 5 condition. The combination made the anemia much worse, and I had to receive injections to stabilize my blood levels.

Compared to that period, my situation now is far more stable.

It is possible that my current blood count needs support again, likely through a hormone injection such as Epogen. I took this treatment shortly after my stroke, and it was manageable, even if not particularly enjoyable. Today, the hematologist’s office contacted me to schedule an appointment for next week, which means the next step is already in motion. I may not be excited about it, but it is necessary, and I prefer to address issues early rather than wait for them to worsen.

On days like this, I remind myself to move forward one step at a time.

Objectively, my condition has improved compared to the past. After the stroke, my kidneys were near stage 5. Now they are closer to stage 3, which is meaningful progress. Yes, I am slightly anemic, but many of my other health markers have improved over the past few months.

When I compare the present to where I once was, the difference is clear.
This is not a decline. This is management.

And for chronic health conditions, steady improvement—however gradual—is a victory worth acknowledging.

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