vadimstudio.com Blog

September 26, 2008

Good Vibrations. Part II

Filed under: By Michael Caceci — Administrator @ 3:09 pm

  Michael Caceci

In my previous blog I introduced you to Whole Body Vibration training (WBV), and the neural mechanisms that make it work. I also promised to introduce new ways for you to incorporate this modality into your routine. One way WBV training maybe able to help liven up your routine is with flexibility. According to a study done by the Norwegian University of Science and Technology whole body vibration (WBV) training may increase the range of motion (ROM) in the hamstrings, when it is combined with a stretching program. The study was done on a group of 19 undergraduate students that consisted of 12 women and 7 men.  Everyone’s hamstring ROM was tested prior to beginning training. This was done to ensure that everyone had approximately the same ROM in their hamstrings to start. Upon completion of the pretest the participants were seperated into a WBV group and a control group. Both groups performed the same warmup and stretching protocol. But  prior to stretching,the WBV group stood on a vibration platform for 30 seconds in a squat position with their knees bent to 90 degrees. The stretching sessions were performed 3 times a week for 4 weeks. The subject’s hamstring ROM was tested after every training session, and the results were compared after the 4 weeks of training. In the WBV group significant increases in ROM were seen after only a week as compared to the control group which took 2 weeks to show any significant improvement. The WBV group also received improvements in ROM in weeks 1-3. In contrast the control group only had improvements in week 2. So, if you are looking for a way to optimize the time you spend stretching or you need to increase your ROM in a short amount of time, WBV training maybe able to help you achieve your goals.

September 22, 2008

Can artificial sweeteners cause weight gain?

Filed under: By Tamra Rosenfeld — Administrator @ 4:55 pm

  Tamra Rosenfeld

If you have been consuming foods or beverages with artificial sweeteners to lose weight you may want to think again… Although these foods contain no calories or fewer calories than food with sugar you may be craving more food later. 

A recent study by Perdue University’s behavior research center compared rats given foods with sugar with rats given foods with artificial sweeteners.  The rats given the artificial sweeteners later consumed more calories and gained more weight than those given sugar.

Even though these foods or beverages do not add calories to your diet, the body is tricked into thinking that it had something sweet, and as a result your appetite can increase. 

Try these suggestions to reduce added sugar and artificial sweeteners from your diet:

1.      Beverages without artificial sweeteners or added sugar include:

·        Unsweetened iced tea with lemon,

·        Water,

·        Seltzer,

·        Flavored seltzer water (Poland spring makes one with no sugar or artificial   sweetener)

·        Mixing unsweetened fruit juice with water. 

2.      Blend plain, non fat yogurt with fruit puree such as unsweetened applesauce or add  fresh fruit.

3.      Limit diet and regular sweet snack foods and snack on fresh veggies, fruit, low fat cheeses.

4.      Try adding cinnamon, nutmeg, and raisins to oatmeal, cereals.

September 19, 2008

A LAYMAN’S PERSPECTIVE OF CORONARY BYPASS SURGERY

Filed under: By Paul Jason — Administrator @ 12:32 pm

   Paul Jason

Chapter 15:                                         The Wonder Drugs
   

I guess it’s common knowledge that advances in medicine have managed to increase life expectancy in the United States over the past hundred years.  In 1900, the average American lived to the age of 48 years .  By 2000 , that life span had soared to over 70  years (80.0 for white females, less for others;  74.5 for white males, less for others). Of course, part of that increase is attributable to the manipulation of numbers.
 
Early in the last century, diseases like tuberculosis, pneumonia, dysentery, influenza and diphtheria stole many young lives, thereby skewing the statistics.  Even then, men and women lucky enough to advance beyond their adolescence and ultimately reach the ripe age of 50 years had a fairly good chance of surviving to the age of 70.  Now, thanks to major advances in immunization and child care in general, the number of infants who survive their twentieth birthdays has vastly improved.  Thus, the average life expectancy has risen accordingly.
 

But, that is only part of the story.  Modern medicine has also learned how to deal much more effectively with the ailments which accompany advancing age.  Today, many people are alive who would have succumbed to their illnesses if we turned the clock back twenty or thirty years.
 

The critical issue has become, however, not whether modern medicine can keep us alive, but rather, what kind of quality of life can we expect from modern medicine if we are allowed to remain alive through the benefit of incredibly sophisticated surgical techniques and “illness-specific” drugs.
 
As I mentioned in the Preface, during the ten-year period prior to my bypass surgery, I used prescription medication to reduce my total serum cholesterol level, which in 1989 was discovered to be 254 mg/dl (milligrams per deciliter).  In 1987, authorities in this field had announced that the maximum acceptable serum cholesterol level was 200 mg/dl, regardless of age or sex.
 
My Primary Care Physician at that time prescribed the medication Lopid to accomplish that goal.  I also read Robert E. Kowalski=s New York Times bestseller “The 8-Week Cholesterol Cure”.  Kowalski scared the hell out of me and had me baking my own low fat oat bran muffins and eating them by the gross which, at times, was “gross”.  However, my own body was simply manufacturing too much cholesterol and Lopid and oat bran together could only bring my level down to around 220 mg/dl.  And that, in spite of the fact that I walked, as I discussed previously, nine to twelve miles a week during approximately seven months out of the year.
 
To make matters worse, my “low-density lipoprotein cholesterol” (LDL, the so-called “bad” cholesterol) was always too high, and my “high-density lipoprotein cholesterol” (HDL, the so-called “good” cholesterol) was always too low.  The end result was that the ratio between my total cholesterol and my HDL always exceeded the number that Kowalski said was critical:4.5.


 

Thus, when the newer medication Zocor came onto the market, I discussed with my physician changing to that medication.  He advised me that there was, at the time, a dichotomy within the medical community as to whether or not Zocor should be taken together with Lopid, or whether it should be taken alone.  His position was on the side of the dual medication; therefore, sometime in 1993, I began a regimen of both Lopid and Zocor.  That combination brought my total cholesterol level down to around 200  mg/dl, the level deemed to be the absolutely maximum acceptable level.  However, the ratio between my total cholesterol and my HDL remained unsatisfactory.
   

Of course both of these medications had side effects and I had to have my blood drawn and tested periodically to confirm that I was not experiencing any negative liver function disorders.
 

Also, somewhere along the way my doctor suggested that I commence ingesting a quarter aspirin (81 mg) every day as a heart attack preventive.
 
Then, in mid-1998 , I heard about the newest cholesterol drug, Lipitor.  I questioned my new Primary Care Physician about it and he agreed that I should try it and see what positive (and possibly negative) effects it might have on me.  Thus, in October, 1998,  I ceased using Lopid and Zocor and began using Lipitor. The effects turned out to be all positive.  My total cholesterol dropped to around 180 mg/dl and the ratio between my total cholesterol and my HDL improved as well.
 
Nevertheless, as you now know, all of the progress I made in my battle against Coronary Artery Disease as a result of these medications did not prevent the necessity of my having to undergo quadruple bypass surgery in April 2000.
 
In the years leading up to Y2K the only regular medications prescribed to me were Lopid/Zocor/Lipitor, which I took together with one-fourth dose of a regular non-prescriptive aspirin.  Since the surgery, on the other hand, I have been on a regimen of six prescriptive medications, plus aspirin.
 

Let me give you the names of the drugs first and then I will describe them and their side effects in greater detail.  I do not mean to imply that all post-coronary bypass patients take these same medications or even any of them; I only mean to tell you that my physicians, in whom I have confidence, have recommended this menu of drugs for my short and long term welfare.
 
The drugs, in alphabetical order, are: Altace , Atenolol ,  Colchicine , Folic Acid , Furosemide  and Lipitor.
 

All of these drugs (including the aspirin) are “wonder drugs”: it’s a wonder that I can remember to take all of them every day (except for the Furosemide, which I take every second or third day); it’s also a wonder that I can keep track of when each prescription needs to be re-filled, since I seem never to be able to get all of the prescriptions to expire on the same day of the month.


 

My pharmacy encloses a computer-generated sheet entitled “Patient Prescription Information” every time I have a prescription filled.  The sheet provides the common brand name(s) for the drug; how to use it; its side effects; precautions; drug interactions; and actions to take in the event of an overdose or missed dose.  Using that information, and with the aid of some additional research, I thought I might attempt to give you some insight into some of the medications used by post-bypass patients.
 
Enzymes are a group of specialized protein molecules that control biochemical reactions in the body.   Altace is a member of the class of drugs known as ACE inhibitors,  which are designed to inhibit certain enzymes in the body from narrowing the blood vessels, thus helping to lower blood pressure.  The good news is that it seems to work very efficiently to accomplish its stated mission.  The bad news is that Altace seems also to have the ability to produce rather undesirable side effects like dizziness, headaches, diarrhea, constipation, nausea, fatigue and/or dry cough.  The user may also develop chest pain, tingling of the hands or feet, yellowing of the eyes or skin, persistent sore throat and/or fever.  In the event the user turns out to be allergic to the medication, reactions could include rash, itching, swelling, dizziness or trouble breathing.  Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?  I began with a dosage of 5 mg per day (one small capsule).  After a year, that dosage was reduced to 2.5 mg a day.
   

Aspirin (acetylsalicylic acid) has been available commercially for over one hundred years.  But it was not until the early 1970s that it was discovered that aspirin inhibits the body’s production of hormone-like substances called prostaglandins,  which assist in the contraction of vascular smooth muscles and the dilation of blood vessels.  Thus, aspirin can prevent blood clots by preventing platelets from releasing  thromboxane, a member of the prostaglandin class, which causes the platelets to clump together in a blood clot; that is, aspirin serves as an anti-coagulant.
 

In 1985 the U.S. Food and Drug Administration approved the use of aspirin to prevent heart attacks in patients who had either suffered a previous heart attack or suffered from unstable angina.  Aspirin may also serve to reduce inflammation in the blood vessels.  Current research indicates that blood vessel inflammation can lead to hardened and narrow arteries, thereby precipitating heart attacks.
 

However, with long term use, aspirin can have some unintended side effects.  Even at low doses, aspirin can cause gastric irritation, increased occult blood loss and, occasionally, serious gastric bleeding.  There is even a relatively minor increased risk of cerebral hemorrhage from sustained use of aspirin and, at high doses, dizziness, ringing in the ears and vomiting has been known to occur.  To counteract some of these side effects, it is recommended that the aspirin tablet used be of the coated variety, designed to eliminate stomach distress and/or damage.  My cardiologist instructed me to take one 325 mg (full strength) Ecotrin tablet every day, indefinitely.  Ecotrin is an enteric-coated aspirin.
       


 

Atenolol is part of a group of medications known as Beta Blockers.   Beta Blockers can control angina (chest pain), high blood pressure and irregular heartbeats.  Atenolol slows down the intensity of the heart=s contractions and reduces its oxygen requirements and the volume of blood it has to pump.  It also serves to increase the diameter of the blood vessels, thereby reducing the pressure needed to move blood through the vessels.
   

Atenolol can cause the user to experience dizziness, lightheadedness, drowsiness and/or blurred vision. Because it reduces blood circulation to the extremities, the patient’s hands and feet may become more susceptible to cold temperatures.  In addition, the patient could experience easy bruising or bleeding, swollen hands or feet, confusion, depression or sore throat.
 
Allergic reactions to Atenolol may include rash, itching, swelling, dizziness and difficulty in breathing (difficulty in breathing!!).  Women are cautioned that this drug should be used during pregnancy only after consultation with their physicians regarding the possible risks involved.  I started with a dosage of 25 mg per day (one tablet).  After one year, that dosage was reduced to 12.5 mg per day.  The only problem is, there is no generic 12.5 mg tablet on the market.  Therefore, every month I bring home thirty 25 mg tablets and diligently cut each of them in half.
 

Colchicine  is  used  to  prevent and/or  treat gout, a  condition characterized  by the sudden onset of severe pain in  the joint  of the big  toe, or, sometimes, in the ankle,  wrist,  knee or elbow.  The pain  intensifies and  the joint becomes very sensitive to  the  slightest
external pressure.  As I explained in Chapter 6,  I experienced gout for the  first time in  my life  during those few days I spent in the hospital prior to my surgery.  I suspect it may have been precipitated by the introduction of thiazide or a thiazide-like diuretic into my IV as a blood pressure medication. Thiazide diuretics are recognized as a cause of hyperuricemia which, in 70 to 95 per cent of all cases, is the result of the underexcretion of uric acid rather that the overproduction of uric acid.             
 

Colchicine has the ability to produce the following side effects: nausea, stomach pain, vomiting, diarrhea, yellowing of the eyes or skin, sore throat, easy bruising or bleeding, muscle aches, numbness or tingling of the arms or legs, fatigue, rash and/or itchy skin. Oh, and one more happy note: alcohol can decrease the effectiveness of Colchicine, so the patient should “limit” alcohol consumption while taking this medication.  I take one 0.6 mg tablet every day.
 

Folic Acid is a vitamin.  It is found naturally in leafy green or yellow vegetables, beans and orange juice.   Folic Acid helps to regulate levels of homocysteine in the blood.  A high level of homocysteine is an independent risk factor for arterial disease.  A usual dosage of Folic Acid, contained in many non-prescription vitamin supplements for example, is 400 mcg (micrograms). I consume two 1 mg tablets a day.  That’s 5 times the amount of Folic Acid contained in the vitamin supplement.  At 1 mg  (the standard therapeutic dosage), it requires a prescription. Fortunately, Folic Acid has minimal side effects; but some patients do suffer allergic reactions like rash, itching, swelling, dizziness or trouble breathing.
 


 

Furosemide is a member of that group of drugs known as “water pills” or diuretics.  It is a potent diuretic , which means that it acts to decrease the amount of water retained in the body by increasing urination.  Thus it counteracts edema (fluid retention and swelling of the hands and feet caused by heart failure or other diseases) and high blood pressure.  Its side effects are interesting, if not familiar by now: dizziness, lightheadedness, increased sensitivity to sunlight, blurred vision, loss of appetite, itching, stomach upset, headaches and weakness, muscle cramps, pain, nausea, vomiting, dry mouth, thirst, unusual bleeding or bruising, rash, yellowing of the eyes or skin and/or ringing in the ears. 
 

And whereas the effectiveness of Colchicine is decreased by the consumption of alcohol, the side effects of Furosemide may be intensified by the intake of alcohol.  Women are cautioned that this drug should be used during pregnancy only after consultation with their physicians regarding the possible risks involved.
 

During the first year after my surgery I took one 40 mg tablet of Furosemide every other day.  After one year, I reduced that intake to about every third day.  During the first six hours or so after ingestion, the drug induces sudden, strong urges to urinate.  This will occur repeatedly during that time frame.  It is a highly unpredictable phenomenon.  Needless to say, you will want to be sure that a toilet will be accessible and available to you at all times during that six hour period once the pill has slid down your throat.  If you don’t follow this advice, then don’t say I didn’t warn you.
 

Finally, Lipitor is one of the statin group of drugs which are being used to help reduce cholesterol and triglycerides (fats) in the blood.  It works by inhibiting cholesterol synthesis in the liver. Lipitor, too, can produce some of the nasty side effects I have alluded to above: headache, nausea, diarrhea, constipation, gas, stomach upset, joint pain, muscle pain, weakness, fever, unusual tiredness, chest pain, swelling in the arms or legs, dizziness, yellowing of the eyes or skin, dark urine, vision problems and black stools.  As if that wasn’t enough, allergic reactions can include rash, itching, severe dizziness and/or trouble breathing. Frequent ingestion of alcohol may increase the possibility of serious side effects.  Also, as with all statin drugs, liver function must be monitored periodically through blood tests to be sure the medication does not have a negative impact. 
 

Lipitor does have one idiosyncracy, however: you cannot eat a grapefruit or drink grapefruit juice while using this medication.  I don’t know why; you just can’t do it.
 

Finally,  this drug cannot be taken during pregnancy since it may cause fetal harm.
 

There, that’s the whole of it.  Based upon an orderly cataloging of the side effects I have described, you may have surmised that I walk around lightheaded; am unable to focus on the world around me; run to the bathroom at least once every hour; have yellowed eyeballs and rashes all over my body; appear slightly swollen; am prone to nausea, with ice cold hands and feet; given to scratching myself in the most intimate of places; chronically tired, slightly feverish, possessing no appetite and complaining constantly of muscle cramps.
If that’s your conclusion, I’m here to tell you that you are . . . wrong (. . .or at least I think you’re wrong!).

To be continued…
 

August 11, 2008

Barbeques and Carcinogens

Filed under: By Tamra Rosenfeld — Administrator @ 9:56 pm

  Tamra Rosenfeld

The way you barbeque may release harmful cancer causing agents (carcinogens) into your food.  These carcinogens are released when smoke is created when fat drips onto a heat source.  These carcinogens cover our food when the smoke rises. Another carcinogen is created when meat is overcooked or charred.  Here are some tips to reduce carcinogens when you barbeque:

•           Cook meat at a lower temperature to prevent charring.

           Marinating meat allows it to tenderize, adds flavor, and reduces the cancer causing elements.

           Make kabobs to reduce cooking time and to cook meats more evenly.  

•           Precook meat prior to barbequing and finish on the grill for flavor and grill lines.

•           Cover the grate with punctured aluminum foil to prevent flames from touching the food and drippings.

•           Trim fat from meats, cook chicken with the skin and then remove the skin prior to eating.

•           Grill plenty of vegetables – grilling vegetables does not release cancer causing compounds.  You can even grill fruit too!

August 8, 2008

A LAYMAN’S PERSPECTIVE OF CORONARY BYPASS SURGERY

Filed under: By Paul Jason — Administrator @ 6:20 pm
  Paul Jason  

Chapter 14: “Get Out and Stay Out”
 
By the fourth day after the surgery, Saturday, April 8, 2000,  I could get on and off the hospital bed myself, but with great difficulty and pain.  My left leg was swollen to a girth one and a half times the size of my right leg, from the inner mid-thigh down to the ankle.  My breathing was shallow, and my wired chest was very unstable.
 
You may remember that I said in an earlier chapter that the thoracic surgeon told me that, barring unforeseen complications, I would be discharged from the hospital four and one-half days after the surgery. Well, on that fourth day one of my physical therapists came to visit me. She said that her mission was to be sure that I could walk, and that I knew how to negotiate steps.  She explained that since my left leg was temporarily incapacitated, I would have to go up and down steps one at a time, leading always with my stronger right leg.  So, for example, if I were to go down a flight of stairs, I was to descend from step to step by lowering my right foot to the step first, and then bringing my left foot down.  Conversely, to mount a flight of stairs   I was to ascend to each level by stepping first with my right foot, and then bringing my left foot to that level. Sounds easy enough (a child can do it), until you take into consideration the feeble breathing, general weakness and aching chest factors.
 

I believe that it was sometime during that fourth day that a PA (Physician’s Assistant) appeared in my room and announced that he was there to remove the tubes that were still protruding from my body.  I had tried to ignore them during the past couple of days, while the inevitability of their removal buried itself within the recesses of my mind. Moreover, they were camouflaged amongst the millions of little surgical strips that covered my wounds.
 

To the best of my recollection, I still had two tubes right below my breastbone which had served to drain the fluid that collects around the heart after this surgery, and a third tube located just below and to the left of my breastbone, in the rib cage area, to drain any fluid which collects in the chest cavity.  What these tubes drained into I cannot tell you.  In fact, that’s the very point: there are so many things hanging from your body during those first days; so many debilitating things going on with your body and mind; so many thoughts and pains darting back and forth,  that simple, probing questions that curious minds usually entertain, such as where those drains empty, are blotted out from conscious thought.   
 

Up to that moment it never occurred to me that anyone other than my surgeon would be removing from my body anything that had been inserted during surgery.  But that PA was on a mission and anything I had to say on the matter was of no concern to him.  Not knowing whether I should brace myself, I asked him if this was going to hurt; “Not much” he replied. Easy for him to say.  I was laying on my bed. With aplomb, he grabbed hold of one of those tubes and started to pull. I couldn’t look.  From the sensation it felt like he withdrew two feet of tubing, although I’m sure it was much, much shorter. Then he went on to the second tube, and then the third.  I couldn’t believe what was coming out of me.  He dressed the wounds and left. The whole procedure probably lasted five minutes.


Well, it was becoming apparent that they really were determined to discharge me on the next day.  I couldn’t believe it.  Could I really function outside the confines of this hospital so soon?  Given the state of my mobility, I questioned how I would be able to get home and into the house.  My “significant other” was making arrangements to come to the hospital with a friend and to drive me home.  How would I get to the car?  How would I get into it?  How would I get out of it?
   

Sunday morning, April 9, 2002,  it started to snow.  That’s right, snow. A little late in the year for snow in New York City, but you can look it up.  I limped out to the hallway window (remember, the dividing curtain in the center of the hospital room was never drawn back,  so I could never see the room window) and watched the flakes coming down… slowly at first, and then more frequently.  By 11:00 a.m., snow was beginning to accumulate on the ground.
 

“They’ll never release me on a day like today,” I thought to myself.  “How can they expect me to go outside, as unsteady and unstable as I am, and travel home? What happens if the car gets stuck in the snow?  I’m not physically capable of maneuvering myself out of any  situation.”  These thoughts raced through my mind.
 
My significant other had the same thoughts, and she called me to express them.  Should she drive the long distance to the hospital in this weather?  Should I be exposed to such harsh weather so soon after such critical surgery?
 

I hobbled to the Nurse’s Station and made inquiry regarding my impending discharge. “Oh, yes” I was advised, “you are scheduled to leave the hospital as soon as your cardiologist arrives to examine you.”  My cardiologist?  Well, thank God . . . I can’t imagine that he’ll let me out in this weather.
 

How wrong I was. In fact, it was not my cardiologist, but one of his partners, who appeared that day.  I expressed my concern as he was examining me.  He declared me fit for discharge, downplayed my fears, and told me to go home.  He wrote prescriptions to be filled at an outside pharmacy that day, wished me well, and left.  Boy, I wished I was as optimistic as he was.
 

I guess the moral to the story, if there is any, is that modern American medicine is controlled by the insurance companies, HMOs, managed care services, etc., and that, short of a catastrophe, my post-operative days in the hospital were pre-ordained and carved in stone.
 

The “Discharge Plan/Instructions” sheet that was delivered to me by an RN indicated that my blood pressure was currently 102/60, my body temperature was 99.4 degrees F. and my pulse was 84.  All of my medications, their dosages and frequency of ingestion were listed there.  It also advised me to call for medical assistance if I experienced chest pain, palpitations, dizziness, redness or discharge on my incision sites, fever, “etc.”  In case of an emergency, call 911.  An emergency?  How the hell would I know what an emergency is.  To me, this is an emergency!!!


Tired, weak and faced with the inevitable conclusion that the insurance company bean counters would dictate my exit from this medical facility, I phoned my significant other, told her what had happened, and asked her to please come and get me.

To be continued…

August 5, 2008

Shake Up Your Routine With Whole Body Vibration Training.

Filed under: By Michael Caceci — Administrator @ 3:53 pm

   Michael Caceci

 Part I.

It may not be conclusive yet, but there is growing scientific evidence to support the efficacy of whole body vibration (WBV) training. A study conducted by the Exercise Physiology and Bio mechanics Laboratory of Leuven, Belgium found that WBV training was as effective as standard resistance training in improving strength and speed in older women. These improvements came without concomitant increases in cardiovascular risk factors. So, for people with physical limitations that make standard resistance training impractical, WBV training offers a healthy alternative to prevent the sarcopenia associated with aging. Preventing the age related loss of muscle mass known as sarcopenia is important, because the loss of muscle tissue could lead to a loss in the ability to support yourself as well as maintain your stability. This loss in support and stability could predispose people to falls. This loss of muscle tissue is also associated with a decline in metabolism. While WBV training may or may not increase your metabolic rate, it could help you maintain the muscle you have. Maintaining the muscle tissue you have would prevent any decrease in metabolism due to its loss.  But to think that WBV training is useful just for the geriatric population would be a mistake, because just about anybody could benefit by adding this modality to their training. Also, WBV training may be useful in improving flexibility and body composition too, but there will be more on this in subsequent blogs. For now, let me start with an explanation of just how WBV training works.

WBV training stimulates muscle spindles. Muscle spindles are special sensory organs that lie between regular muscle fibers. Muscle spindles consist of approximately 4-20 specialized fibers known as intrafusal fibers. Regular muscle fibers are known as extrafusal fibers. A connective tissue sheath surrounds the muscle spindles and attaches to the endomysium of the muscle fibers. Intrafusal fibers are controlled by gamma motor neurons. In comparison, extrafusal fibers are controlled by alpha motor neurons. The central region of the muscle spindle cannot contract, because it contains little or no actin or myosin. The muscle spindle can only stretch, but since it is attached to the extrafusal fibers anytime they stretch the muscle spindle is stretched too. Special nerve endings in the muscle spindle send information to the spinal cord when they are stretched, which informs the central nervous system (CNS) of the muscle’s length. If the CNS detects that the stretch is too much, it sends an impulse to the muscle to contract.

Anyone who has been to their doctor’s office for a physical has seen muscle spindles in action. It is known as a reflex test. When the doctor taps you on the knee he is stretching your patella tendon. The muscle spindles sense this overstretching and send the information to your CNS. The CNS processes this information and then sends an impulse back to the muscle forcing it to contract. We all know what happens when we are tapped on the knee. The quadriceps muscles contract forcing extension of the distal leg. As you can see, stimulating muscle spindles can cause your muscles to contract. If your muscles are contracting they are working. Now you can understand the reason for optimism in WBV training. As I mentioned earlier WBV training can be useful for more than just strength training, but there will be more on this in ensuing blogs. 

  

July 29, 2008

From Flab to Fab

Filed under: By Ellen Bittner — Administrator @ 6:26 pm

  Ellen Bittner

Chapter 4.  Overcoming Obstacles - Part 1: Fear 

As a child, I was considered a “dare devil” and often got myself into situations that would lead to injury.  On one occasion, I decided to slide down the support pole of the slide in the playground.  This resulted in a gash on my chin.  (I still have the scar.)  There were also several instances when I fell off my bike.  Chances are, if I had been riding it in the conventional way I wouldn’t have cut my foot open (which also left a scar), or broken my front teeth.

My daring ways were not limited to dry land.  I also enjoyed exploring and playing at the beach and in the lake, undeterred by the fact that I didn’t know how to swim.  That adventurous spirit continued until one day when I was playing at the lake and almost drowned.  I had jumped off the pier and a passing speed boat created a wake that pulled me under the pier, where I was caught in the undercurrent.  Not knowing how to swim, I panicked.  The more I struggled, the deeper I went into the dark, murky mass of seaweed.  That experience left me with a fear of water that lasted nearly four decades.

As I wrote in Chapter 3, my high school had a swimming pool.  However, although Swimming was part of the Phys Ed curriculum, I didn’t learn to swim there.  Because I had developed a fear of water, and was a “non-swimmer”, I was a part of the class that was “taught” by a student assistant.  This meant that while the teacher taught the “swimmers”, the student assistant supervised the “non-swimmers” in the shallow end of the pool to make sure none of us drowned.  In order to pass the course at the end of the semester, the “non-swimmers” had to jump into the deep end of the pool and grab onto a pole that had been inserted into the water.  The teacher, who was holding onto the pole, pulled us towards the stairs and we climbed out of the pool.  Not only did I not learn how to swim, but this experience exacerbated my fear of water.  And so, for most of my life I shied away from water, unless I was in a swimming pool where my feet touched the bottom and I could stand along its edge.

As I neared retirement and was looking for ways to become more physically fit, I wished that I could swim.  I knew that swimming was good exercise.  It was aerobic and there was no impact on the joints.  However, the few times that I did try a water aerobics class, my fear of being swept away into deeper water kept me from fully participating in the class.

Then, one day I saw an article in the newspaper about a program for people with aqua phobia - a fear of the water.  The article described a new course, SOAP (Strategies for Overcoming Aquatic Phobias) and Water (www.waterphobias.com) created by Jeff Krieger (jkrieger@WaterPhobias.com).  Jeff, who was a guidance counselor and Red Cross certified swim instructor, had originally designed the program for children, in anticipation of the summer camp season.  His unique approach made use of his guidance background to deal with the phobia, before beginning to teach swimming techniques.  I called the number provided, and was impressed with Jeff’s compassion and understanding when I told him about my swimming history and near-drowning experience.

When anxiety took over, and I missed the orientation meeting, Jeff called to encourage me and persuade me to join the first class.  When I arrived, there were four other middle-aged adults.  (To Jeff’s surprise so many adults signed up for the program that he had to divide the class into three groups.)  We sat in a classroom and talked about our experiences, our fear of water, and our expectations of the program.  The pool, the focus of our fears, was nowhere in sight.  After about a half an hour concentrating on our fears we went into the pool area, where there was a large metal tub with five yellow “rubber duckies” floating in the water.  Jeff had us sit in the tub and choose a rubber duck.  We used “our” duck as the focus of a “positive” water experience.  Then, keeping that image in mind, we put our face in the water and blew bubbles.

During the ensuing five weeks, Jeff took us from that large metal tub, and taught us how to be in control and feel safe in the water.  Using foam noodles, he showed us how to relax and float; then he taught us to float and tread water without the aid of a noodle.  A major accomplishment for me was being able to put my face in the water and learning how to breathe.  Jeff also dealt with the emotional aspect of our fears by having us write about our experience in a journal after each class.  (I still have that journal.)  His responses to my entries and his encouragement were very powerful, and played a major part in my progress.  One of Jeff’s favorite sayings was: “Setbacks, no matter how large are temporary; Progress no matter how small lasts forever.” 

Jeff eventually had me feeling comfortable enough in the water that I could swim to the bottom of the pool to retrieve water toys that had been scattered around.  At the end of the six-week program there were several of us who wanted to take the next step and actually learn how to swim.  Jeff put together a “post-graduate” course and created another six-week program for us.  During that time, Jeff taught me a variety of basic swimming strokes and how to dive from a diving board.

It’s been five years since Jeff helped me overcome my paralyzing fear of the water and gave me the tools to be able to “take care of myself” and enjoy the experience.  Since then, a fellow graduate of his SOAP and Water program and I have been swimming regularly at a local Y.  I look forward to meeting her each Monday morning to swim laps.  We continue to motivate each other, as we try to swim faster and further each time.  I have not only overcome my fear of water; I have learned to enjoy swimming and now reap its fitness benefits. 

   To be continued…  

July 28, 2008

A LAYMAN’S PERSPECTIVE OF CORONARY BYPASS SURGERY

Filed under: By Paul Jason — Administrator @ 6:55 pm
  Paul Jason

Chapter 13:   ” Sponge Bath . . . What Do You Think This Is, a Spa ?”
  

 

The remaining days and nights of my hospital stay prior to discharge were filled with restlessness, discomfort, loneliness, apprehension, fatigue and depression. Various members of the “medical team” dropped by intermittently to examine me, but most of the time I was left to contemplate my condition and cope with my pain. 
 

I found that unless I asserted myself, little attention was devoted to alleviating my pain.  For example, from the moment the endotracheal tube was removed the morning after the surgery, my throat was sore - - - very sore.  They had given me ice chips to suck on soon thereafter, but nothing further.  The soreness persisted over the next days.  It was not until the fourth day, when I was complaining about the situation to a nurse I had not seen before, that she offered to bring me some lozenges to suck on.  Lozenges?  “You mean you have throat lozenges to alleviate the pain?”.
 
 ”Nobody offered them to you before?”
 

Well, no.”
 

Sure enough, the lozenges were numbing and soothing.  Why hadn’t anybody brought them before?  After all, every surgical patient who has had general anaesthesia has had an endotracheal tube shoved down his/her throat.  The throat and windpipe react to the intrusion and irritable soreness inevitably results.  Why not provide lozenges as a matter of course?
 

Nevertheless, it is this sort of general indifference which undermines the hospital experience.
 

Lozenges, of course, are just a small indication of this indifference.  Another one of my pet peeves is the fact that once that aide in the CCU had gently cleansed me the day after surgery, no one else ever washed me; no one ever offered to wash me.  As I have described in a prior chapter, lying in a hospital bed can be a perspiring experience.  My ability to get on and off the bed was somewhat limited, and painful.  The first couple of days I was using a bed pan, and I didn’t have enough solid food in me to require use of the toilet.  But, surely, I needed to be washed down, if not for my cleanliness, at least for my dignity.  I always thought that patients in my condition received “sponge baths” in or at their beds.  But there were no sponge baths to be had.  I guess they’re no longer part of the union contract!!
 

Fortunately, my domestic partner came to visit me every day and she washed me down using  wash cloths that she commandeered from a nearby corridor supply closet. (This is but one very small example of what I was talking about in the Preface when I said that  I could not imagine the hardship one would undergo to face this ordeal alone.)
 


Also, by the fourth day, I was able to struggle off the bed by myself, shuffle over to the bathroom a few feet away (when it was available, there being, of course, two other room occupants to share it with, and more when there were visitors), and attempt to wipe myself down with the wet corner of a towel.
 

I understand that there is a nationwide nursing shortage.  I also know that my experience in one hospital cannot serve as the basis of a generalization.  However, I have now taken the time to speak  to other people who have been hospitalized in the New York metropolitan area, and their comments have been similar to mine. Comments to the contrary have been the exception rather than the rule.  And, after all, The Motel Monte is not some backwoods infirmary; it is a major player on the metropolitan New York medical scene.  And it doesn’t require the services of a registered nurse to sponge bathe a post-surgical patient.  Something is wrong, terribly wrong, and I suspect that not enough is being done to address the matter.
 

In a similar vein, I discovered that no one was particularly concerned about the pain I was experiencing.  Unless I persisted in my requests for pain medication, I received no attention or sympathy in that regard.  Now, don’t jump to the conclusion that I’m some pampered wimp, incapable of tolerating a little pain and, therefore, was whining for relief every five minutes.  Quite the contrary.  As one example of my pain toleration, a few years ago I had a lower rear wisdom tooth prepped for the installation of a crown . . . without any anaesthetic.  However, that pain lasted for an hour and then subsided.  This pain would last, unabated, for several days.
 

Since the surgery, I have read about hospital-based programs in pain management in which patients are given limited control over the introduction of pain medication into their bodies.  Whatever the status of those programs, and the medical philosophies that buttressed them, was in April 2000,  in my experience The Motel Monte was not implementing them.  Certainly this is an area of care that requires more consideration, and every prospective surgical patient should make inquiry regarding the status of pain management in the hospital of his/her choice.
 

When I first organized an outline for this book, I considered naming two of the chapters  “You Have Throat Lozenges?” and  “May I Have My Pain Medication Before I Die?”  This was reflective of the anger I felt during the recuperative period whenever I contemplated the hospital experience.  Ultimately, as you can see, these individual ideas became melded into a more generalized statement of dissatisfaction.

To be continued….
 

June 25, 2008

From Flab to Fab

Filed under: By Ellen Bittner — Administrator @ 11:32 pm

  By Ellen Bittner

Chapter 3. Using Weights, Losing Weight

Growing up in New York City, I went to school in a pre-Title IX era.  (Title IX, enacted in 1972, was the first comprehensive federal law to prohibit sex discrimination in educational institutions.  Its major impact was on high school and collegiate athletics, providing girls with equal access to physical education and sports activities.)

My high school phys ed classes consisted of calisthenics, which included doing sit-ups while a partner held your feet at your ankles; and exercises with mantras such as “I must, I must, I must increase my bust.”  Folk Dance, Jazz Dance, and Swimming (that’s another chapter) were some of the other courses that were available to women at the time.  Girls who wanted to participate in high school sports could become cheerleaders, which emphasized learning chants and dance routines.  This was also a time when women with muscles were considered “unfeminine” and sweating was thought to be “unladylike” (I still have an aversion to sweat.)

The gyms that I joined in later years were not that much different.  These women’s oriented fitness centers emphasized cardiac fitness (which is very important) over strength training, once again conveying the message that women should avoid developing muscles.  Fitness schedules at these gyms included step classes (beginner, intermediate, & advanced), and aerobics classes (low impact, high impact, dance, and hip hop).  I often felt uncoordinated and became discouraged with all of this choreographed activity.  Keeping up with the instructor and the music in these large group classes was frustrating, and I easily became bored with the repetitive routines.

As I aged, so did my body.  Along with peri-menopause came the usual weight gain and other physical changes associated with this “change of life” phase.  In order to avoid the characteristic loss of bone density and diminish the negative affect of my family’s genetics that I wrote about in Chapter 1, I decided to take action to improve my health and extend my longevity.

I had already tried the large fitness centers and knew they hadn’t worked for me.  I also knew that I wanted a fitness program that would help me counter the loss of bone density & metabolic changes that came along with menopause - a program that would involve resistance training.  I came to the decision that these needs would best be served by a personal trainer.

After doing some research on the internet, I went to visit several one-on-one fitness centers.  I spoke with the trainers there to get a sense of their fitness philosophies and approach.  I also wanted to be sure that the trainer I ultimately chose would take my current physical condition into consideration, and not use a “one size fits all” packaged routine.  When I met with Vadim Vilensky at his Fitness Studio, I explained my goals, and told him that I wanted to be healthy, not become a “weight lifter.”  His slogan “Fitness for the Real World” and his experience working with cardiac patients were contributing factors in my decision to work with him.

Most of the fitness centers that I had visited were full of machines.  But, the walls of Vadim’s studio were lined with resistance bands, free weights, kettle bells, barbells, stability balls, and mats.  There wasn’t a machine in sight.  These objects were all so new to me.  At first, I found all of this apparatus intimidating.  Before long, I realized that my body was the machine, and that I would be using my own body’s weight, strength, flexibility, and stability with the equipment.   Once I learned how to use them properly, I bought my own set of free weights and a stability ball so that I could “practice” what I was learning at home.

It’s been 4 years, and I have become much more comfortable and skilled with the equipment.  I have also become more fit, flexible, and athletic.  In terms of “Fitness for the Real World”, some of the lifestyle changes that I am enjoying are:

Then, I would take an elevator, no matter how short the trip;  Now, I bypass the elevator and routinely use the stairs.

Then, I had difficulty reaching my own feet to tie my laces;  Now, I easily squat down (& get up again) to tie the laces of 4 year olds.

Then, I needed to use a shopping cart to carry even a few shopping bags;  Now, I easily carry several shopping bags, or a case of water, in my hands.

Oh, and the business of not wanting to become a “weight lifter”, there have been times when I’ve considered entering a Power Lifting competition.  Who knows, maybe some day I will.

          To be continued…  

 

June 3, 2008

A LAYMAN’S PERSPECTIVE OF CORONARY BYPASS SURGERY

Filed under: By Paul Jason — Administrator @ 7:48 pm
   Paul Jason
    

  Chapter 12:   “Whoops!  We Have a Visitor”
 
Approximately thirty hours after I left the operating room I was wheeled on a gurney up to the “Intermediate Cardiac Care Unit” on the sixth floor.  Unlike my first visit there (prior to the surgery), I was now placed in a semi-private, as opposed to a private, room.
    

It was after midnight when I was wheeled into my new room. The overhead lights were out.  The light on the wall behind the bed was turned on and I was assisted from the gurney onto the bed with considerable pain and discomfort. At my request, the nurse brought me a couple of pillows to prop me up in the bed. My IV was checked, I was hooked up to some monitors, the light was turned off and I was left to my own devices.  The hallway lights, peering into the room, created an eerie environment. 
 

It was a standard type of room that I had been in many times before as a visitor. Upon entering, on the left, was a bathroom.  Beyond the bathroom was the bed reserved for me.  A movable curtain separated that bed from a second, parallel bed, which itself was parallel and adjacent  to the windows. At this time the curtain was drawn, and I could not see who occupied that other bed.  This was probably going to be my roommate for the next couple of days.
 

The ability to find a comfortable position in which to rest abandoned me and I spent the next couple of hours restless and perspiring. . . perspiring so much that I finally felt impelled to ring for the nurse and to request that my bed sheets and hospital gown be changed.  Whether this was precipitated by the emotional anxiety generated by my relocation from the CCU, or the sheer physical exertion of that transition, was unknown and not particularly important at the time.  The fact that I was wet enough to feel very uncomfortable was enough.
 

One of the things that you come to recognize after laying on a hospital bed for a short while is that vinyl liners reside immediately beneath the bed linens.  I’m sure they are there for sanitary reasons; however, they also serve as unwanted captors of body heat and are capable of fomenting linen-drenching perspiration in patients whose body temperatures can fluctuate continually for any number of reasons.
 
Of course the mere changing of bed linens became for me another exercise in pain and discomfort, requiring as it did that I shift myself around the bed to assist in the process.  Nevertheless, having temporarily achieved a drier sense of myself, I managed to fall in and out of sleep repeatedly as the next few hours passed.
 

Then, all of a sudden, at what I estimated was perhaps four or five o’clock in the morning judging from the quietness of the hallways,  the separation curtain rustled, and a short, squat figure appeared from the far side of it. The figure walked right past the foot of my bed, headed straight for the bathroom, and never even looked at me.
 


At first, in the dim light, I couldn’t decide whether I had just seen a man or a woman. A woman? I didn’t know they have co-ed hospital rooms.  I mean, I know that many colleges have had co-ed dormitories since my kids went to school.  But, even then, that sometimes means that alternating floors within a dormitory building are designated for girls only and for boys only and, at other times,  that rooms occupied by girls are located on the same floor as rooms occupied by boys.  I never heard of situations where one girl and one boy are assigned to the same room.  Hmmmm.  But, then again, in those college dorms, on those co-ed floors, I also know that some (maybe all) of the bathrooms in the hallways are co-ed.  Hmmmm.   But, I still didn’t think that hospitals have co-ed rooms.  Never heard of it; never saw it. 
        

The bathroom door opened, the figure trod back in front of my bed, never looking at me, passed to the other side of the curtain and got back in bed.  This time I was convinced - - - it was a woman!
 

And then another thought hit me.  This person was walking without any difficulty. How could that be?  I was in the ICCU.  I had to presume that all of the other people on this floor have undergone some type of cardiac procedure.  When that happens, you walk around with an IV dangling out of you, or some sort of monitor hanging around your neck, or bent over from the stitches they put in you, or something like that.  But this person had none of those impediments.  What is she doing here?
 

Before I could ponder the situation much further, I fell asleep again.
 

I was awakened by soft voices.  As I became coherent, I realized that the voices were coming from the next bed.  I looked towards the bed, but the curtain was still drawn.  However, the sun was starting to filter through the windows and the opaque separation curtain, and I knew that I had made it through the night.
 

The voices were Spanish voices.  Soon there was rustling again and the short, squat figure appeared, dressed in a bathrobe.  She plodded past my bed without a glance or a word and disappeared into the bathroom.  After some time, she emerged and then disappeared behind the curtain. 
 

Again, Spanish voices.  Now the curtain rustled a second time.  A man, dressed in a different bathrobe from that worn by the woman, appeared this time.  He glanced at me briefly as he passed my bed, but said nothing.  He, too, entered the bathroom. After a few minutes he  retraced his steps, and went behind the curtain.  It sounded like he got back into bed. Back in bed?  Wait a second . . . I didn’t know they had double beds in here!!  Curiously, as with the woman, there was no IV dangling out of him, and he wasn’t bent over either.  What’s going on here?  Who are these people?
 

Shortly, a nurse entered the room to check vital signs and the daily hospital routine began.  The woman reappeared from behind the curtain dressed in street clothes and went out into the hall.  Neither the nurse, nor anyone else, as far as I could discern, said anything to her.
 


The nurse checked the man in the next bed; there was some language difficulty.  He spoke very little English, and she spoke very little Spanish.
        

When she finished, I fully expected that the curtain would be drawn back so that I could not only see my co-habitant, but so that a little daylight be allowed to shine into my side of the room.  However, my expectations were dashed.  In fact, from the moment I entered that room, until the moment I checked out three and a-half days later, that curtain was never drawn back.
 

And with good reason. This couple had set up housekeeping in that portion of the room.
 
I have good reason to believe that the food service department delivered two meals to that bed at every meal.  The woman spent most of each day there, and slept there every night, sharing the bed with the man.  They spoke only Spanish to each other, so I could never understand anything that they said.  They never demonstrated any interest in speaking to me.
 

I can tell you that no matter how many visitors you have while you are a post-operative patient, there will be many hours in each twenty-four hour day when you will feel alone, isolated and depressed - - - depressed, even if you don’t know it.  Spending those moments in the confines of a private hospital room may provide the sanctuary in which to cope with your inner thoughts and to contemplate the future. But spending those moments within a semi-private room provides the opportunity to share your misery with a fellow human being who is faced with the same feelings of self-doubt.  However, being confined in a semi-private room occupied by three people, as I have described the situation, is demoralizing and demeaning: it lacks the quietude of the first alternative, and robs one patient of the camaraderie inherent in the second.
 
On my second day in that room,  one of their visitors asked me, in English, how I was doing.  I used the opportunity to pursue my natural curiosity.  It turns out that the man had been admitted to the hospital about two weeks earlier to undergo coronary bypass surgery.  However, he had other neglected health problems which rendered him a high risk candidate until they could be controlled.  Therefore, he had been laying around the hospital receiving some medications, being visited by his primary care physician and other doctors, and waiting to be told that the surgery could be performed.  Thus, his wife had moved in with him.
 

Also, by the second day in that room, I was starting to use the bathroom.  Now, instead of sharing it with one other patient, I was sharing it, on a full-time basis, with a non-patient as well. The room began to feel, well . . . crowded.
 


To my surprise, and chagrin, no one on the staff seemed to be concerned about the situation. Not the Administrative Nurse Manager; nor the Associate Administrative Nurse Manager; nor Patient Care Coordinators; nor the Registered Nurses; nor the Licensed Practical Nurses; nor the  Nursing Attendants; nor the Clinical Care Coordinators; nor the Monitor Technicians; nor the  Attending Physicians; nor the Residents; nor the Interns; nor the Physician Assistants; nor the Nurse Practitioners; nor  the  Unit Secretaries; nor the Service Associates; nor the Unit Manager.  No, not even the Registered Dietitian cared.  Nope, not one of them was concerned that three people were co-existing in a semi-private room designed for two patients . . .  and one was a very sick post-operative patient.
 

And so the old saw addressed to good-doers everywhere was visited upon me: “Let no good deed go unpunished.”  This was my fate. Voluntarily leave the CCU one day early, at the request of my surgeon, and join a menage-a-trois!!
 

My reaction to this scenario turned from negative to very negative. I felt as though I were trapped  in some fictional tawdry roadside motel of yesteryear, where rooms rented for one wound up being occupied by two, with curtains drawn and  profiles kept low in the hope that no one would say anything. Befitting the administration of the place, as viewed from my vantage point, I decided, right then and there, to dub it “The Motel Monte” and to use that descriptive name as the title of any document I might later generate about my hospital experience.

 

 

 

 

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