Tag: Stroke Recovery

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Internet Outage and Limited Date, and We created Backup Plans

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

We have now survived almost four days of Internet outage and limited data.

At this point, we are not entirely sure whether the internet outage was caused by the weather, nearby construction, or some secret anti-streaming conspiracy. All we know is that our internet disappeared, and my wife and I immediately entered “rationing mode.”

We tried to avoid using anything that would consume too much data.

The surprising part? We discovered that we use far more data than we realized—even without watching videos or playing games. Apparently, modern life quietly consumes the internet in the background whether you notice it or not.

We also learned that our phone plan belongs to an ancient era of AT&T history. Our plan is so old that they do not even offer it anymore. It includes very limited data, and once we pass 2GB, the speed slows down to something roughly equivalent to communicating through carrier pigeons.

Today, my wife had a rare scheduled day off from work, so we decided to make good use of it and visit the Indian restaurant where we celebrated our anniversary. Her day off had nothing to do with the internet outage, although I suspect the timing felt particularly welcome.

Technically, she could still use her work hotspot, but she does not like relying on it too much. She prefers to save her personal data for work-related needs, especially when internet outages decide to turn life into a survival exercise.

Eventually, we decided it was time to upgrade the phone plan.

The new plan is much more forgiving. Instead of becoming unusably slow after 2GB, it simply lowers our priority after 3GB. In other words, if another outage happens, we can still function like normal humans instead of internet archaeologists.

It was oddly interesting to see how much data we had used in only four days. Even without videos, we had already burned through nearly 1.6GB.

While we were at the AT&T store, I took advantage of their very strong Wi-Fi and downloaded a few audiobooks. I had been avoiding downloads because we were treating our mobile data like a wartime ration.

So even though our home internet still has not returned, at least we now have a better backup plan.

And honestly, that feels strangely comforting in a world where losing internet for four days somehow feels like being transported back to the early 2000s.

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Living with Kidney Disease and Anemia

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today, I want to talk about how I am living with kidney disease and Anemia. Recently, I was told that I have a red blood cell count problem.

It has been 11 years since I first learned that my kidneys were not functioning properly. Since then, I have spent a lot of time negotiating with my kidneys—and, unfortunately, they are not very cooperative negotiators.

When your kidneys stop working properly, a lot of other things become more complicated. Kidneys do much more than simply “filter the body.” They influence energy, muscle recovery, blood pressure, appetite, and what you can safely eat.

For me, food restrictions have become a regular part of life.

I have to watch protein and potassium carefully. I also need to limit foods high in phosphorus. There is something strangely ironic about being told that white bread is a better choice than whole wheat bread. Green vegetables, chocolate, nuts, dairy—many of the foods people describe as “healthy” suddenly become foods that require careful planning.

I can still eat some of them in moderation, but I have to pay attention.

The protein restriction creates another challenge: muscle recovery. Since I cannot eat large amounts of protein, I struggle more with building muscle and repairing it. If I push myself too hard during exercise, I end up with muscle soreness that lasts longer than it should. Fatigue becomes part of the package.

And now there is the red blood cell count issue.

Apparently, healthy kidneys produce a hormone that tells the body to make red blood cells. When the kidneys stop producing enough of that hormone, anemia often follows. So while my low red blood cell count sounds dramatic, the cause is actually fairly straightforward.

The good news is that this part has a relatively simple solution.

For the next two months, I will visit the hematology clinic every two weeks. They will draw blood, check my levels, and give me an injection to stimulate red blood cell production.

It is not exactly how I would choose to spend my free time, but it is manageable.

The doctor told me that it will probably take at least a month before my blood counts start responding to the medication. Until then, the plan is simple: keep doing everything else I am already doing, show up for the appointments, and stay patient.

I am especially curious to see whether this treatment affects my running.

If my red blood cell count improves, my body should carry oxygen more efficiently, which could help my muscles perform better during exercise. Perhaps my runs will feel easier. Perhaps I will recover faster.

Or perhaps I will simply stop feeling like my muscles filed a formal complaint every time I overdo things.

Honestly, that alone would be a victory.

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Hematology Follow-Up and a Kitten’s Great Onesie Escape

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today included my hematology follow-up appointment, which meant the usual routine had to make room for doctors, blood tests, and medical logistics.

We first discovered my kidney problem after my brain stroke. At the time, the doctors wanted to try a treatment that would stop iron from leaking into my brain, but one of the requirements for that treatment was healthy kidneys.

That was when we found out mine were not healthy at all.

Back then, my kidney function had fallen close to stage 5.

I have also dealt with anemia since childhood because of a Mediterranean blood condition similar to sickle cell disease. After my stroke, I needed injections to increase my red blood cell count. I went through that treatment for a few months nearly ten years ago.

Earlier this year, my doctor noticed that my red blood cell count had dropped again, so now I am back in treatment mode.

My wife asked me how I did not notice the anemia returning.

Honestly, I did not.

Since I have lived with anemia for most of my life, feeling dizzy from time to time does not feel unusual to me. I know I cannot take regular iron pills because of my blood condition, so I mostly accepted it as normal.

My wife found that strange. She used to struggle with anemia herself, and for her, the symptoms were very noticeable—especially feeling lightheaded after standing too long. In her case, the problem came from not getting enough protein and iron for her activity level.

So now, I am committed to this treatment plan until May. I have to see the hematologist twice a month, which feels slightly ironic because every visit includes them taking three more vials of blood to monitor the blood problem.

Apparently, treating anemia involves donating a surprising amount of blood first.

When I returned home, my wife and I planned to inspect our kitten’s incision. Today was supposed to be the day we decided whether she could finally retire from her onesie.

As it turns out, our kitten made that decision herself.

Sometime between my wife waking up and me getting out of bed, she successfully escaped from the onesie. Apparently, she had officially reached the end of her patience with recovery fashion.

At that point, we looked at the incision, saw that everything appeared healed, and decided not to put the onesie back on.

She has been absolutely full of energy ever since.

Today she has run around the house, reclaimed her territory, and played more than thirty rounds of fetch. Clearly, she feels completely recovered and ready to return to her normal life of speed, chaos, and relentless enthusiasm.

Honestly, seeing her back to normal made the whole day feel much lighter.

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Kitten Recovery Update: Escape Attempts, Endless Appetite, and Onesie Battles

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Another Kitten Recovery Update. Our Kitten has been recovering very well. In fact, she is recovering so well that she is sure she does not have to be in her onesie.

This morning began with breakfast, coffee… and a jailbreak attempt.

The moment I opened my office door, our cat made a bold dash for freedom. After more than a week of confinement, she clearly believes she has served her sentence. Now every door opening feels like a high-stakes negotiation. I have to move carefully, or she will slip past me like a tiny, determined fugitive.

As if that were not enough, she had also escaped her surgical onesie—again.

Impressive, honestly.

At first glance, her incision looked fine, but I plan to do a more careful inspection with my wife later. In the meantime, I reset the situation: recapture the cat, reinstall the onesie, restore order.

Temporary victory.

Her Restless Kitten Syndrome continues at full strength.

After securing the onesie (round two), I gave her another dose of pain medication, followed by food and fresh water. Her appetite, by the way, is thriving. She has already finished four bowls of food—and it is only midday.

At this rate, the onesie is not shrinking. She is expanding.

My wife noticed the same thing last night while adjusting the onesie during another escape attempt. Between limited movement and increased eating, our little patient has entered what I would call a very successful recovery phase.

On the bright side, I have become surprisingly skilled at giving her medication. My wife taught me the technique: distract generously, act quickly, and make sure the cat never fully realizes what just happened. Efficiency is key. Confusion is helpful.

So far, it works.

Despite all the chaos—the escapes, the climbing, the constant supervision—I am genuinely happy we have her. She has added a lot of life (and activity) to my days. I have always been a cat person, and even this tiny troublemaker has completely won me over.

Now we are both waiting for the same thing:
the end of the onesie, the reopening of the room, and her return to full freedom.

I suspect she will celebrate that moment dramatically.

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Restless Kitten After Surgery: Restless Kitten Syndrome

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Our cat has officially entered what I call:
“Restless Kitten Syndrome.”

Today turned into a fairly lazy day—at least for me. For her, it was a day full of frustration, boredom, and creative attempts to reclaim her former lifestyle. Since she remains confined to my room, she has decided that I am now her primary source of entertainment.

And by “entertainment,” I mean climbing all over me constantly.

Right after her surgery, she needed comfort, and we gave her plenty of it. Now, she has upgraded that expectation into a full-time service plan. She demands attention with increasing enthusiasm, clearly confused about why her life has suddenly become so restricted.

From her perspective, this makes no sense.

She wants to run, jump, and play fetch.
Instead, she gets… rest.

The vet gave us strict instructions: no activity. The incision needs time to heal, and one enthusiastic leap could undo everything. Unfortunately, cats are not known for her patience. She is energetic, athletic, and deeply committed to chaos.

To make matters worse, the medication keeps her slightly calmer than usual—but not calm enough to accept this new lifestyle without protest. She knows something is different. She just does not understand why we refuse to play with her.

Naturally, she has found a solution.

If she cannot play, she will use me as equipment.

The highlight of the day came during my planking session. Just as I started, she decided my back and legs made an excellent climbing structure. Now, one might assume that a cat adds useful resistance for strength training.

This is incorrect.

A moving cat adds unpredictability, instability, and a strong desire not to collapse mid-plank and accidentally squash your recovering patient.

I abandoned my first attempt.

I Tried my exercise again.

An hour later—after sufficient cuddling, petting, and emotional negotiations—I tried again. This time, I succeeded.

Victory, under these conditions, feels earned.

At the end of the day, her behavior makes perfect sense. She is bored, restricted, and full of energy with nowhere to go. Attention has become her only available activity, so she takes as much of it as possible.

We are now counting down the days. In about ten days, she should be free from her onesie and allowed to move more naturally again.Until then, I remain:
part caretaker, part furniture, and part jungle gym.

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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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A Cozy Valentine’s Day at Home

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

We had a cozy Valentine’s Day at home this year.

We began the day with a small adjustment to our usual Saturday routine. After breakfast, we drove to the UPS store to drop off a package. Once that mission was accomplished, we continued with our weekly grocery shopping before heading home.

After putting the groceries away, I prepared for my 10K run while my wife focused on her weekend projects. Lately, she has been deep into 5S organizing mode—cleaning, reorganizing, and building systems that keep the house neat without constant effort. Our home is slowly becoming a model of efficient order.

Meanwhile, I set out for my run.

This was actually my first 10K in a couple of weeks, since the last two Saturdays were defeated by snow and ice. It also gave me the opportunity to test a new running accessory: nipple protectors. Not the most glamorous topic, perhaps, but long-distance runners know the importance of preventing friction disasters. The new ones worked well—comfortable during the run and much easier to remove afterward than my previous version. A small but meaningful improvement.

The run itself felt a bit slow, but after the long weather interruption, simply finishing the distance felt like progress. By the time I returned home, I was thoroughly tired.

After vacuuming and showering, I moved on to the next task: grating cheese for dinner.

My wife had planned something special—lasagna. It is one of my favorite foods, though my diet restrictions mean we do not enjoy it very often. Still, every once in a while, she makes it as a treat, and tonight was one of those rare and wonderful occasions.

I was extremely excited about the lasagna.

With most of my tasks complete, I could finally relax for about an hour before bed while finishing the last of the wine I started with dinner.

Earlier in the evening, I had also prepared a small Valentine’s surprise. I brought home a Valentine balloon and secretly slipped into the house to hide it in the closet so my wife would not notice.

She loved it.

Our cat loved it too—though perhaps for different reasons. The balloon floated high near the ceiling, and the dangling thread instantly became her greatest enemy. She tried repeatedly to capture it, but our 12-foot ceiling made victory impossible. The resulting frustration was quite entertaining to watch.

In the end, the evening included lasagna, wine, laughter, and a slightly defeated cat.

All things considered, it was a very lovely Valentine’s Day.

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