February 2016 – Own Less. Do More.

Katy Perry had Left Shark.

Tim has Left Adrenal Gland.

It produces too much aldosterone, which is why it’s being ejected from the game next month. Ready for a little medical education in an RV lifestyle blog?

I’ll try to make this very long story (6 months worth of doctor’s appointments, imaging, testing, and waiting, to which I obliquely referred in this post) a little bit shorter:

Although Tim had no obvious lifestyle or dietary risk factors (genetic factors are an unknown because he was adopted), he was diagnosed with high blood pressure a little over ten years ago, in his late 30’s, and has been on medication ever since.

Within the last 3-5 years, he’s also had very low potassium levels, as in, “Sir? Are you sure you’re feeling OK? Because your readings are barely above the mandatory hospitalization mark.” Hello, gigantic horse pill potassium supplements.

Then last summer, right about the time we moved into the RV, Tim internet-stumbled upon a rare condition called Primary Aldosteronism, and asked his doctors to start the testing process.

“In primary aldosteronism, your adrenal glands produce too much aldosterone, causing you to lose potassium and retain sodium. The excess sodium in turn holds onto water, increasing your blood volume and blood pressure”

High blood pressure. Low potassium. Ah haaaaaa.

“Diagnosis and treatment of primary aldosteronism are important because people with this form of high blood pressure have a higher risk of heart disease and stroke. Also, the high blood pressure associated with primary aldosteronism may be curable.”

Ohhhhhhh. So… curing it means no more meds?

“Options for people with primary aldosteronism include medications, lifestyle modifications and surgery.”

Turns out that surgery is indeed an option for Tim, as the left adrenal gland was determined quite clearly to be the culprit. Had both glands been overproducing aldosterone, then the only recourse would have been daily, lifelong medication in the form of a hormone blocker — because like kidneys, you can live with one adrenal gland, but not with none.

Anyway, once the pesky left one’s out, Tim will be able to discontinue his potassium supplement for sure, and his BP meds can either be significantly reduced or eliminated entirely. So it’s a good thing, and we’re thankful we’ve got the military healthcare benefits to make it happen.

What it means though, is that we’ll be putting off our rolling adventures for another few months. Surgery is scheduled for 3/23, and it’s followed by 4-6 weeks of recovery and follow-up appointments to make sure the remaining adrenal gland picks up the slack, so San Antonio is home through at least the end of April.

Two really cool things

We’re talking laparoscopic, robot-assisted surgery. Robot, y’all. Oh, how I wish I could watch!
Tim’s surgeon is the same doc who saw me for follow-ups after my breast cancer surgery two years ago, and he remembered me when we showed up for Tim’s consult on Thursday. I greeted him with a cheerful, “Hi, Dr. N. You’ve seen me before. Quite a lot of me, actually!” He looked at me for a second and then said, “Oh I remember you. You’re the funny one.”

And then he drew a diagram for us, right there on the examining table paper:

The four dashes on the right side of the drawing, at the lower end of the kidney, represent 8-12mm incisions where the laparoscopic stuff goes in. If for some reason things go sideways, the doc will make a traditional incision instead, and take care of things "the old way." This will mean more pain and a longer recovery for Tim, so we're hoping all goes well with Dr. N and the Robot. — The four dashes on the right side of the drawing, at the lower end of the kidney, represent 8-12 mm incisions where the laparoscopic instruments go in.
If for some reason things go sideways during the operation, the doc will make a traditional abdominal incision instead, and take care of things “the old way.” This will mean more pain and a longer recovery for Tim, so we’re hoping all goes according to plan with Dr. N & the Robot.

And what other things aren’t working? As if a human gland weren’t enough?

Lola. She has retired as our hiking dog, and she still willfully ignores her bed in the most in-your-face way possible. — Lola.
Due to her age and kidney deterioration, we opted against surgery for her torn ACL. Thus, she has officially retired as our hiking dog. Also, she still willfully ignores her bed in the most in-your-face way possible.

The RV clock/thermometer. It was in here when we bought the thing, and has since decided to ignore new batteries, and submit us to 105 degrees all the time. "Honey, the thermometer's broken. We need a new RV!" — The RV clock/thermometer.
It was in here when we bought the thing, and has since decided to ignore new batteries, and make us think it’s 105 degrees *all the time*.
“Honey, the thermometer’s broken. We need a new RV!”

Not the RV I’m sitting in. Our big booger weighs about 12,000 pounds when it’s empty.

I’m talking about this little red myPod, which we saw yesterday at the Austin RV Expo. It weighs 500 pounds! I most certainly do not, but I could still probably pull this cutie my own self.

Not sure I could lift it, but I'm rather confident it would fit in the bed of the BFT. — Not sure I could *lift* it, but I’m rather confident it would fit in the bed of the BFT.

When we hit the convention center floor in Austin, two things made it different from last week’s show in Houston (wrote about that one here and here):

To save time, we were prepared with a list of only three units we wanted to see and learn more about. A fourth got thrown in at the last minute, which means that somewhere in Austin, a Winnebago factory rep probably woke up with one helluva hangover this morning. Have I mentioned that Tim asks a lot of pointed and technical questions?
It’s Austin, not Houston. And by that I mean ATX has its own vibe, and it was palpable even at something as mainstream as an RV show.
Not just garbage cans, but bins for compost and recycling too. And a man wearing a kilt at not-the-highland-games-festival. And two rows of adorable little Airstream bubbles, as opposed to the two units in Houston.
Never change, ATX. Never change.

I was amused by this. It’s a staging area for staging items. And apparently no RV kitchen is complete without a basket of fake fruit on the table, you know, to tempt other people into buying it. Us? Not so much. “Yes, that plastic banana looks lovely, but do tell me, does this rig have a 6-point leveling system? And what’s the R-rating on the insulation? OK, now how’s the frame constructed?”

Found some swag I liked, but did not buy. Photos are enough. Own less, and all that.

Tim, as mentioned, is the data head at the RV show.
I wear socks that fit my attitude.

The attendant at the door stamped our hands to make sure we could come and go. It occurred to me that last time I was in Austin sporting a hand stamp, I was the Longhorn in the family. (And the stamp definitely did not come from an RV show.)

And speaking of Longhorns, that’s ours in the center. We treated him and his buddies — friends since freshman year of HS, and now all freshmen at UT — to dinner. They uh… they can put down a lot of barbecue, it turns out.

Not just my reflection in an RV, but a lesson. If you visit an RV dealership on your way to an RV show, and just happen to mention that’s where you’re headed, the sales dude just might hand you a couple of complimentary tickets. That little excursion saved us 12 bucks!

Until next time, ATX!