I lived.
I am at home recuperating from AVR (aortic valve replacement) with re-do Sternotomy. It was a helluva a couple days in the hospital following nearly 6 months of jockeying around with an insurance company.
I won’t say I feel great. But considering how bad I did feel, I am really happy to be home with normal smells, tastes and the possibility of some more consistent rest.
I am in some pain but not much. I have an incision in sternum and an in my groin. The sternum is wired together as it will be for the rest of my life with either these wires or ones from another operation. I have had those other wires for 13.5 years. You have an initial period of limitations followed by none as long as you follow the program and not overdue it.
Basically you cannot move any more than 5 pounds in each hand for 6 weeks. And you can’t swing a golf club, do pull-ups, or swim for 3 months. I can manage all that.
Mostly I am tired. Your body is apparently smart enough to put it’s energy back into repair.
This is my second sternotomy so I know what to expect but the reminder that everything will make you tired is a bit of distant memory.
I am emotional. I’m reading Boys in the Boat and I get all weepy. Every little tiny human gesture makes me blubber, a bit and say “that’s humanity. that’s beautiful.” This happened before too but it feels a little more uncontrollable right now. I know this my mother’s revenge on me. Good one, Noreen. I never saw it coming.
Energy
The willingness to sit here and type this is minimal. I could not give a shit about “work” or really anything more indirect than the pure joy I get from a piece of fruit.
I also remember that feeling and my docket is pretty clear. In fact, if it took me three days to write this, what do I care?
The feeling of a supportive family and friends is a wonder and I’ll take what I can get. Just don’t expect much in return right now.
Time in the hospital is broken into 12 hour chunks. And Surgery is separate from Hospital. You are in surgery then you are in hospital. Nurses just want to know what day you are in. Second day post surgery might be one way to say it. When you say, “it’s my third day.” They say, “It’s only your second.”
It’s one of the first places you see them making things easier for you. I was in ICU Wednesday, following surgery. By late in the midnight, out came my breathing tube. Worst part of the whole thing.
Thursday, I was still there in “Day 1”. Before I could move, I had to have my Foley catheter removed and that means getting up to pee yourself. I got a reprieve until noon thirty. You are full of fluids so you will pee. But now, it’s on you to get up.
Friday I was downgraded form ICU to floor care. You get a different nurse, who have more patients and cannot pay as much attention to you, because you are not as ill. When a bed is ready, you get moved.
By Friday afternoon, I was moved to a cardiac care floor, out of ICU care.
I walked all the way from 5 South to 5 North, following me with a wheelchair. I got a sponge bath. I was soooo happy.
After that, I knew I was on a checklist. Pee, poop (which means eat) , wires, tubes. Walking. Wipe my own butt.
Walking
My first attempt to walk was back in ICU. It was with a PT. I did everything right and in due time. Then I just passed out. It made a lot of people nervous. I just found myself back in bed with about 4 or 5 people over me looking really concerned. Probably dehydration.
I am now walking at home for barely 6 to 7 minutes at a time. This is one of those sober up moments. You can’t do more.
And that’s brings me to the end of today.
