Yesterday was Christmas Day, a quiet day of necessary solitude and rest. If you were spending the day alone or managing illness, I hope you found some measure of peace.
Today is Boxing Day, and for those of us with severe chronic conditions like LVSD 20% and NYHA Stage IV heart failure, this day isn't about sales or leftovers. It's about a critical step: the Reset.
The high emotional energy and disruption of the holidays—even when observed quietly—can throw off the delicate balance of heart failure management. The smallest deviation in fluid intake, stress levels, or rest can have serious consequences when your Ejection Fraction (EF) is only 20%.
Back to the Blueprint: Re-Establishing Control
For a traveler, resilience means repairing a puncture and getting back on the road. For me, resilience now means getting back to the strict routine that keeps me stable and out of the emergency room.
This is my Boxing Day Reset Checklist:
The Scales First: This is the most crucial step. I check my weight first thing this morning. Any unexpected spike is a direct signal of fluid retention, a red flag for my heart, and requires immediate action (often a call to the care team and a diuretic adjustment). This measurement dictates the next 24-48 hours.
Medication Re-Verification: Holidays often mess with timing. I meticulously check my medication boxes to ensure I am perfectly back on schedule. With Stage IV heart failure, my medications are the only 'travel guides' I trust.
Appointing a Digital Delegate: I check in with my Community Care Team contact, giving them a quick summary of how the resting day went, confirming if my breathlessness or fatigue spiked, and thanking them again for their support yesterday. Communication is my ultimate safety feature.
Flushing the Emotion: Yesterday required emotional energy. Today, I flush that out by allowing for extended, guilt-free rest. My physical 'job' is to lay still and let my heart do the absolute minimum work.
Finding Strength in the Repetitive
The traveler longs for novelty; the chronic illness patient thrives on repetition.
In a normal life, repetition feels boring. In the context of severe illness, repetition is protection. The monotony of the low-sodium diet, the exact time of the pills, the careful measurement of daily fluid—this is my shield.
It takes immense strength to choose stability over excitement, especially after the world has just celebrated the latter. But today, my strength lies in my discipline. I choose the routine that honors my heart and keeps me safely at my home base.
If you are reading this, and your recovery requires a strict routine, embrace it. It is not a prison; it is the blueprint for your continuing journey.
What is one piece of your daily routine that you rely on the most to help stabilize your physical or mental health?
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