Slow to Recover

In better days, playing Euchre with the family

After Wednesday morning’s harrowing start, deprived of oxygen and power for looks like over five hours, I am on the path to recovery. That path has been and is long, winding and very slow to navigate.

When I think I am rebuilding my energy – splooosh! There it goes again.

Now mid afternoon on Thursday. My function is square on nil. I am somewhat better, but far from the most diminutive of where I was on Monday and Tuesday.

My Help At Home aide will be in for a couple of hours this evening. This will get me set for the night, get some cleanup completed and my supper, hot out of the microwave. 

Dave and Linda will be over later to keep me company for the night as I recuperate. Usually it is only Dave, who sometimes stays and sometimes gets me settled and set before returning home. Tonight it will be an overnight.

Had my quarterly review with Area 7 Council on Aging and Disability Wednesday. Seems I qualify for an Assistant to come help me on Saturday night when I have no professional help.

Going to see if I can get Help At Home to switch to Tuesday and Thursday instead of Sunday and Thursday. Dad and Susie say they can take care of Sunday since they come to town for church.

That’s the way it is in Mark’s Den as the mercury drops into the teens tonight.

And how is your Thursday going?

Cathie (Kev’s Mom) and I standing behind the newlyweds, Kev and Hailey in Austin, Texas

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I am Mark Ivy, a born and bred Hoosier. I am father to two wonderful sons, Dave and Kev, of whom I am very proud; two terrific daughters-in-law, Anna and Hailey; three beautiful granddaughters, Dylan, Alaina and Amelia. On May 9, 2017, my lung specialist hit me with the news I had maybe six months to live if the chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), the damage caused by the histoplasmosis described below, ran its normal course. I am now on hospice at home. Content and ready to cross over the river to the other side. On September 2, 2014, I was diagnosed with disseminated histoplasmosis, a fungal infection, discovered by a biopsy of my larynx. The infection is fatal if left untreated. For 2 1/2 years I lived under a death sentence being misdiagnosed with a non-specific bacterial infection which left my right lung a "dried up sponge" and non-functioning. I was aggressively treated for the infection with antifungals. The treatment ended October of 2015 and fortunately did not take two years. I suffer from chronic Horton's Syndrome. The effects vary widely causing various problems. Statistically, Horton's affects only 0.1% of the population. Major depression also attacks me regularly.