- Ticker-ing Away
Last night was not a good night. In fact the past week has been becoming more and more of a pain as each day passed. I cannot begin to wonder why it is that I have more problems at night, I just assume the air is heavier or something. Beyond that, I do not even want to know. It is enough for me that for whatever the reason, my heart seems to work better in the daytime than the nightime. I am afraid if I knew the reason why, I might never sleep at night again. I have a hard enough time with that now.
Prior to March 2004, I never gave my heart a whole lot of thought. I had had a few problems, but I figured it was nothing serious. In fact, on Sunday, March 7th, 2004, I felt good enough to take a vigorous bike ride in the rain (it is Washington, if you don't go out in the rain, you may never go out!) , I pedalled only about 6 miles, but I felt great! It was nice. The following morning I had every intention of enjoying the day, but was sort of dreading the Appointment I had coming up with the cardiologist on the 11th. I woke up and the heart went into arrythmia, and I packed a bag, just in case, took a shower, and sat on the back porch and had a cigarette (yeah, yeah, real smart, I know!) as I waited for the ambulance. They took me to the hospital, and I was cardioverted (shocked) to get the heart back into rythym. Anyway the cardiologist met with me after the procedure and decided since I was already in the hospital, we would just do the procedure a couple days early. He gave me the choice whether I wanted to wait till Thursday, or just get it over with. There have been many times since that I thought I should have run screaming from the hospital at that moment. The next decision I made changed my life forever.... "Sure, Doc, lets get it over with." How was I to know that the uncomfortable and invasive test called an angiogram was actually going to find anything. Every other test, including the one with the radioactive dye injected into the bloodstream I had passed. I guess I figured they would find nothing with this test as well.
An angiogram is in invasive technique, but the results are absolutely conclusive, where a tiny incision is made in your femoral artery at the uppermost inside of your thigh, and a special catheter is inserted which will be fed from the groin, directly into the ventrical of the heart.
Sounds like fun, huh? You betcha! So I was stripped and put in a gown, and put on a guerney (sp?) and wheeled into an operating room. A cold operating room. The test was done, and the doctor explained that there were three blockages, but even then it really did not register what he meant. While the incison was being stitched up, and pressure applied, the Cardiologist conferred with a heart surgeon, and another cardiologist. Pretty much the moment he informed me I would be going in for triple bypass surgery early the next morning, the lights went out. I really do not remember much about the hours that passed (about 16 hours) between the test and the surgery. I only know that for the first time in my life, I was scared for my life. I think I may have been given a sedative, because I really am foggy about the events of that time, and what I do remember is only that I was very vocal to my wife about being afraid. That, and falling out of bed.. lol.
The surgery was textbook perfect, I am told. In spite of my sleep disorder, I came through fine. (Obviously or I would not be here today typing this!) After the tubes were pulled out of my throat, and nose, I was able to move a bit, and was allowed to sit up in a chair, and was given some stale graham crackers and a cup of decaff coffee. To me, it was the best thing I ever tasted. I actually savored it! I had made it! What I did not realize is that the worst was still to come. The Healing process. No one really prepared me for what was to come and the whole emotional thing that comes with it.
Over the next few days, a lot was going on. I kept getting out of bed because I hurt, the nurses kept putting me back in bed. They finally got tired of that, and I slept in the chair when I slept. My compression bandage was removed (glad for that, it made my arm ache), my stomach tube was pulled,(ouchie!
) my catheter removed, (double ouchie!!
) and I was slowly graduated to more solid food, if either word is applicable in the hospital... solid, or food... neither word truly describes whatever it was they served me. I do recall one night I saw the menu was roast beef, and I was looking forward to that. My tray arrived with some mashed potatoes and a bowl of broth. I asked "Where's the beef?" (pun not intended) and they pointed to the bowl and said "right there." I pretty much knew it was going to be a long recovery.
Over the course of the next few days I was poked, prodded, and violated in pretty much every way I thought possible. That was until my doctor ordered suppositories. (Too much information? Yeah.... I thought so too. Moving on.....) They had me up and walking with a walker, dragging my IVs along behind me, and were doing test after test, and xrays, and of course there were the pills which seemed to never end. In all I spent six days in the hospital. When I returned home, my healing became much more interesting. In part, I think, because there was no more morphine. I was on some wonderful pain pills, but they did not truly kill the pain, merely dulled it.
At home I faced new challenges.
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