So, now I'm here at my sister's and probably did too much today. But, overall, I'm having to take less pain meds, so I guess that's progress.
With my sister, Peggy, I'm able to piece together what happened. Peggy's an RN on an oncology ward and has had 2 MI's herself, even though she's almost 4 years younger than I am. She's my one relative that's lived through the heart attacks. Well, my dad lived through his first one, too, and so did my mom. My little brother (9 years younger) Andy, lived through his first one, too, but only by 11 months. Anyway, Peg could explain things and share what happened from her point of view. It's a wonder that I was so deeply in denial all these years. I absolutely wouldn't take my family's cardiac history seriously. Well - that's not right. I took it seriously - it scared the hell out of me - but I refused to believe it could happen to me. I told Peggy that - for being so close to dropping dead - I should have had more symptoms. She pointed out that I HAD had symptoms, but that my response was to blow them off or explain them away. And my GI troubles didn't help b/c I could and did attribute some of the signs as gut stuff or GERD.
She wasn't hesitant to point out the various things I'd told her in the past year - like my having a little chest pain while dragging my rolling bag from the office to the parking lot one day and how I had to stop several times to catch my breath and to wait til the pain subsided. She had a lot of other examples.
My brother-in-law, Dan, has had quadruple (?) bypass surgery after experiencing cardiac arrest and having multiple stents put into place. Not even a year later, all but one of the bypasses had failed and he had to have more stents put in. He also shared that one of his wires in his chest has broken and pokes him from time to time. He doesn't want to fix it b/c he says that they'll have to partially re-open his chest. Shit, I didn't even know that COULD happen!! How does he live with all this? How does he handle it, emotionally?! He says he's needed stuff to help him sleep ever since this started b/c laying there in bed thinking about all the possibilities was hell. So the answer to this re-definition of self isn't going to be simple or easy. Fancy that.
I miss by Cece terribly, but I appreciate that she's relieved of the stress of taking care of me and trying to be in two places half the time.
Still nothing as far as my daughter going into labor. I hope she doesn't fart around and not have it until I have to leave. On the other hand, every day that goes by I'm a little stronger and can be more help to Jenny instead of someone else to take care of.
My sister doesn't have a lazy-boy so I'm sleeping on a regular bed with tons of pillows. It's not quite as comfortable as the lounger, but still worked all right. I'm waiting for the day when I can actually sleep on my side again. I'm not a natural back sleeper, but that's my only choice right now.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
Here in NC
Made the plane trip ok, though it was a bit of a nightmare. That was Saturday. US Airways not all that good at taking care of its wheelchair passengers - much less those that have a layover.
Here at my daughter, Jenny's. She moved her large lazy-boy into the TV room. It's more comfortable than my chair at home. Although she's 9 months pregnant herself, she's taking pretty good care of me. But I miss my wife already and feel displaced. Yesterday found myself crying off and on - without any reason I could put my finger on except that I felt lonely and sorry for myself b/c of everything that's happened. It's so hard to come to grips with what's happened to me. I'd give anything for this not to have happened. Now I know what my sister was trying to convey after she had her massive heart attack.
Surprisingly, felt pretty good physically Sunday. I thought the trip would really set me back but I didn't feel all that bad the next morning. I went for a long ride with my daughter who's taking care of her friend's animals while her friend is out of town. Now, I WAS hurting when I got back from that. Daughter doesn't seem to appreciate how weak I still really am. When I asked for a glass of water, she grumbled saying that I ought to get it myself b/c it would help me. Maybe she's right, but I'll stick to my doctor's instructions to do what I can, but back off and rest when I've done more than enough for the day. I wish it was already behind me - say like 6 months or so. I wonder, though, how long it'll take me to feel better inside?
My cardiologist, Dr. V., thought I was pushing it by coming up, but bowed to the cardiac surgeon's opinion. But he also said he wanted me to enroll in cardiac rehab. He said that most of his patients enjoy it. I'm open to going, if only to meet others who've gone through the same thing.
I wonder how much time I have left? How much did this affect my lifespan? I fear having to have stents or more surgery down the road. I don't think I could do this again. So many "what if's" rattling around in my head. Blah blah - I wish I could turn it all off!!
Incision site still giving me the most pain. I'm able to breathe in much more fully now, though.
I know that I'll be turned over to my sister's care in the next day or to, but don't know how or when that's going to happen. It's about an hour from sister's house to daughter's. Hate not being able to drive - but can see why that's out of the question. Not all that much I can do with my arms that doesn't put a serious hurting on my chest. Yes, I did bring my hospital bear; Bruna. She's my little security blanket and buddy.
Sorry I didn't blog for a few days. I admire my friends who blog on a daily basis. Not sure if I can be that consistent, but I'll try.
I've never been away from my Beloved this long. Even when I made these reservations when I was (thought I was) perfectly healthy, being away for a full 12 days gave me pause. Now, without her and without my sense of self . . . it feels really weird. Will I ever feel normal again?
Here at my daughter, Jenny's. She moved her large lazy-boy into the TV room. It's more comfortable than my chair at home. Although she's 9 months pregnant herself, she's taking pretty good care of me. But I miss my wife already and feel displaced. Yesterday found myself crying off and on - without any reason I could put my finger on except that I felt lonely and sorry for myself b/c of everything that's happened. It's so hard to come to grips with what's happened to me. I'd give anything for this not to have happened. Now I know what my sister was trying to convey after she had her massive heart attack.
Surprisingly, felt pretty good physically Sunday. I thought the trip would really set me back but I didn't feel all that bad the next morning. I went for a long ride with my daughter who's taking care of her friend's animals while her friend is out of town. Now, I WAS hurting when I got back from that. Daughter doesn't seem to appreciate how weak I still really am. When I asked for a glass of water, she grumbled saying that I ought to get it myself b/c it would help me. Maybe she's right, but I'll stick to my doctor's instructions to do what I can, but back off and rest when I've done more than enough for the day. I wish it was already behind me - say like 6 months or so. I wonder, though, how long it'll take me to feel better inside?
My cardiologist, Dr. V., thought I was pushing it by coming up, but bowed to the cardiac surgeon's opinion. But he also said he wanted me to enroll in cardiac rehab. He said that most of his patients enjoy it. I'm open to going, if only to meet others who've gone through the same thing.
I wonder how much time I have left? How much did this affect my lifespan? I fear having to have stents or more surgery down the road. I don't think I could do this again. So many "what if's" rattling around in my head. Blah blah - I wish I could turn it all off!!
Incision site still giving me the most pain. I'm able to breathe in much more fully now, though.
I know that I'll be turned over to my sister's care in the next day or to, but don't know how or when that's going to happen. It's about an hour from sister's house to daughter's. Hate not being able to drive - but can see why that's out of the question. Not all that much I can do with my arms that doesn't put a serious hurting on my chest. Yes, I did bring my hospital bear; Bruna. She's my little security blanket and buddy.
Sorry I didn't blog for a few days. I admire my friends who blog on a daily basis. Not sure if I can be that consistent, but I'll try.
I've never been away from my Beloved this long. Even when I made these reservations when I was (thought I was) perfectly healthy, being away for a full 12 days gave me pause. Now, without her and without my sense of self . . . it feels really weird. Will I ever feel normal again?
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Wednesday on the move
Saw Dr. H. yesterday and he was pleased with my progress. YEA! He's totally OK with my going up to NC - just says get a wheelchair and let them "baby" me. He picked the loose pieces of glue from my incision and it looks much better now. You can see where the actual scar line will be. I wonder if I'll ever get used to it?? The men I've talked to who've had bypass surgery haven't worried a whole lot about their scars. Seems to be a female thing. Or maybe they (men) just hide it.
I have mixed feelings about going to NC. I know my darling doesn't have anyone else to "watch" me next week while she's working and she doesn't feel comfortable leaving me alone all day. So my sister and BIL babysitting me makes her feel more secure. I like the idea myself. Plus I can never see enough of my sister - who has many health issues of her own.
I'm mostly over feeling unwanted by my daughter, realizing that she has her own fears about becoming a single mother and having a mother who - instead of taking care of her - might need caring for herself! Who knows, it's entirely possible that she won't even have the baby until after I go home. Who can predict these things? I certainly had no idea when I made the reservations that I would be 3 + weeks from bypass surgery!
I'm having to think about getting all my stuff and medicines together for the trip. How daunting!! Went to my primary doc this morning. As expected, my blood pressure was up after having Dr. H. take me off my Diovan since the surgery. Dr. W. (primary) got me right back on it and I took one when I got home. Seems that surgery makes the blood pressure go down. Maybe all the extra fluids they give you?? Or maybe it's just the shock to the system. Dr. W. wrote me another script for my pain meds in case I run out before I get back. Also stocked up on my anti-depressant (Cymbalta). God knows I'm having a tussle with depression. Of course, that's probably completely normal in this situation.
I got into my waterbed for the first time since the surgery yesterday. Figured Lola would haul me out if I couldn't get my own ass out of the bed. I've slept in a waterbed so many years, though, that it wasn't difficult for me to get out of the bed. It DOES, however, put a lot of pressure on the arm and shoulder closest to the outside of the bed as you roll out. As I lay there in my bed, looking out the window at my mango tree, my thoughts went to that fatal Thursday morning (April 28th) when I woke up with those pesky palpitations that started this whole mess. Who would have thought I'd be laying there today weeks later with my chest having been opened up?? I felt a wave of sadness run through me so strongly. That "nothing will ever be the same again" blue feeling. I know I should be grateful to be alive - and I am. But still. Still. I still wonder in awe "how could this have happened to me?" I'm mortal; like the rest of you. Didn't I know that?? Yes, but. . .
When I went into Dr. H.'s office yesterday, the women at the front desk almost literally jumped up and down with excitement, telling me how much BETTER I looked than last week. They were so happy. And all I could think was "who ARE these people?" I didn't remember even seeing them. Cece asked didn't I remember barely being able to walk into the office last Wednesday (all the way from the parking lot)? I pushed and recalled a few things, but still didn't remember the office women or talking to them. That was just last Wednesday. Hell, I've been blogging since then! How strange and how hopeful that so much can change in 6 days!!!
I'm tired a lot, though. Running around to these visits really tires me out. And puts me in pain. I'm able to cut down to 1 pain pill every 4 hours at night but still need the full 1 1/2 during the day to get through. That, like everything else, I have to have patience with. I'm not all that good on patience.
I keep reliving the time in the hospital. Mostly the feelings, since the details are so screwed up in my brain. The unbelievable fear and pain and exhaustion and weakness. What other words can describe it? There must be more b/c I FELT more!! And I remember my fierce determination to LIVE and get well!! And I remember once, some place along the way, thinking that no wonder Mom gave up and just passed on. It was just too hard for her. Had I known how hard it would be, would I have just given up, too? I don't know. I don't think so - but I'm not sure. Anyone who comes through this type of surgery (and I'm sure other types qualify too) is a courageous warrior who at some point makes a commitment to LIVE. I guess that means myself included.
Well, gotta get on that packing list. See if I can get away with a carry on or whether they're going to gauge me to check a bag. Ugh. I hate US Airways!! Flying is a trial nowadays, not the fun it used to me (a long, long time ago). People who've never known the difference would be shocked at how it used to be. Ah, well. It's expedient.
Thanks for listening, y'all. (Not so) D.D. signing off.
I have mixed feelings about going to NC. I know my darling doesn't have anyone else to "watch" me next week while she's working and she doesn't feel comfortable leaving me alone all day. So my sister and BIL babysitting me makes her feel more secure. I like the idea myself. Plus I can never see enough of my sister - who has many health issues of her own.
I'm mostly over feeling unwanted by my daughter, realizing that she has her own fears about becoming a single mother and having a mother who - instead of taking care of her - might need caring for herself! Who knows, it's entirely possible that she won't even have the baby until after I go home. Who can predict these things? I certainly had no idea when I made the reservations that I would be 3 + weeks from bypass surgery!
I'm having to think about getting all my stuff and medicines together for the trip. How daunting!! Went to my primary doc this morning. As expected, my blood pressure was up after having Dr. H. take me off my Diovan since the surgery. Dr. W. (primary) got me right back on it and I took one when I got home. Seems that surgery makes the blood pressure go down. Maybe all the extra fluids they give you?? Or maybe it's just the shock to the system. Dr. W. wrote me another script for my pain meds in case I run out before I get back. Also stocked up on my anti-depressant (Cymbalta). God knows I'm having a tussle with depression. Of course, that's probably completely normal in this situation.
I got into my waterbed for the first time since the surgery yesterday. Figured Lola would haul me out if I couldn't get my own ass out of the bed. I've slept in a waterbed so many years, though, that it wasn't difficult for me to get out of the bed. It DOES, however, put a lot of pressure on the arm and shoulder closest to the outside of the bed as you roll out. As I lay there in my bed, looking out the window at my mango tree, my thoughts went to that fatal Thursday morning (April 28th) when I woke up with those pesky palpitations that started this whole mess. Who would have thought I'd be laying there today weeks later with my chest having been opened up?? I felt a wave of sadness run through me so strongly. That "nothing will ever be the same again" blue feeling. I know I should be grateful to be alive - and I am. But still. Still. I still wonder in awe "how could this have happened to me?" I'm mortal; like the rest of you. Didn't I know that?? Yes, but. . .
When I went into Dr. H.'s office yesterday, the women at the front desk almost literally jumped up and down with excitement, telling me how much BETTER I looked than last week. They were so happy. And all I could think was "who ARE these people?" I didn't remember even seeing them. Cece asked didn't I remember barely being able to walk into the office last Wednesday (all the way from the parking lot)? I pushed and recalled a few things, but still didn't remember the office women or talking to them. That was just last Wednesday. Hell, I've been blogging since then! How strange and how hopeful that so much can change in 6 days!!!
I'm tired a lot, though. Running around to these visits really tires me out. And puts me in pain. I'm able to cut down to 1 pain pill every 4 hours at night but still need the full 1 1/2 during the day to get through. That, like everything else, I have to have patience with. I'm not all that good on patience.
I keep reliving the time in the hospital. Mostly the feelings, since the details are so screwed up in my brain. The unbelievable fear and pain and exhaustion and weakness. What other words can describe it? There must be more b/c I FELT more!! And I remember my fierce determination to LIVE and get well!! And I remember once, some place along the way, thinking that no wonder Mom gave up and just passed on. It was just too hard for her. Had I known how hard it would be, would I have just given up, too? I don't know. I don't think so - but I'm not sure. Anyone who comes through this type of surgery (and I'm sure other types qualify too) is a courageous warrior who at some point makes a commitment to LIVE. I guess that means myself included.
Well, gotta get on that packing list. See if I can get away with a carry on or whether they're going to gauge me to check a bag. Ugh. I hate US Airways!! Flying is a trial nowadays, not the fun it used to me (a long, long time ago). People who've never known the difference would be shocked at how it used to be. Ah, well. It's expedient.
Thanks for listening, y'all. (Not so) D.D. signing off.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Monday's challenges
Late in posting this today. The chest pain seems to be getting a little better. I'm working on cutting down on the pain meds little by little. I want to be out of pain, but I don't want the dull feeling I can get from the narcotics. Doctors can be annoying (Dr. H.) with their fear and superior attitude about how much pain medication you're taking and what kind. For my actual surgery, they gave me Versed and Morphine. That was going in. I've heard that they used diluidid (sp??) after that for pain relief the first few days in CCU. Then Dr. H. made the unilateral decision to use Oxycodone. That never agreed with me; giving me terrible dreams and in general making me feel disconnected to the world. Maybe I needed something that strong because I was still in awful pain and my body felt all-over savaged. But I asked him to put me on Vicodin shortly afterwards. That's what we've dealt with since that. I've been taking Vicodin (nowhere near the same dosages) for years for chronic neck/shoulder/back pain from several major car accidents. So my body is used to it and I know that my other meds don't interact in a bad way. I'm not sure about the newer stuff they've put me on since the surgery (I noticed they snuck the cholesterol drugs in while I was out of it --- stinkers!!)
Anyway, I'm nearly down to the dosages I used to take before the surgery. I'm so glad!!
Something that has come up is disturbing me. My daughter is having a baby any minute - my first grandchild. She's due the 5th of June. Back in the later part of April BSHTF (Before Shit Hit The Fan), I made reservations to go up to NC on May 28th staying til June 8th. But my daughter is nervous that she'll have to take care of me plus the baby (assuming she has it before I get there or during my stay). I feel like a burden. Daughter wants me to stay with my sister and BIL (Brother In Law) so they can take care of me if - God forbid - I fall apart! I don't know if they're OK with that; plus they live a little over an hour away from where she lives in Fayetteville. I know I won't be in shape to pick up the baby (unless he's really little), but it seems like I can still be there for her. I feel unwanted. I thought about canceling the flight, but I reserved a bargain- basement -no- refund -no -matter -if- God - dies fare.
This week is filled with doctor appointments: cardiac surgeon tomorrow (Dr. H.); primary doctor (Dr. W. - especially important if I want enough pain medication to last while I'm in NC); and cardiologist (Dr. V.) - the one who sensed there was something wrong with my heart despite the inconclusive stress tests he performed in December 2010 - bless his nagging heart. I will, of course, ask all of them if they think I'm fit to go on the trip. I know that I'd be especially safe in my sister's and BIL's hands. Hell, they're the ones who essentially saved my life by insisting I call Dr. V. that fateful Thursday. I guess I'll just have to wait and see and Braille my way through this. My WANT to be better RIGHT NOW is at war with reality. Ugh.
When I compare what I was able to do even a few days ago, much less a whole week ago, I really get a sense of the speed of my healing. I swear writing this blog helps me keep my head on (sorta) straight!
Hopefully, all the drs. will be happy with my progress and give me the go-ahead. I've got to call the airline and find out about things like getting a wheelchair and does that mean any carry-on luggage I have will be taken care of, or will I have to shell out the big bucks for a checked bag. Bastards with those fees!!
Anyway, I'm nearly down to the dosages I used to take before the surgery. I'm so glad!!
Something that has come up is disturbing me. My daughter is having a baby any minute - my first grandchild. She's due the 5th of June. Back in the later part of April BSHTF (Before Shit Hit The Fan), I made reservations to go up to NC on May 28th staying til June 8th. But my daughter is nervous that she'll have to take care of me plus the baby (assuming she has it before I get there or during my stay). I feel like a burden. Daughter wants me to stay with my sister and BIL (Brother In Law) so they can take care of me if - God forbid - I fall apart! I don't know if they're OK with that; plus they live a little over an hour away from where she lives in Fayetteville. I know I won't be in shape to pick up the baby (unless he's really little), but it seems like I can still be there for her. I feel unwanted. I thought about canceling the flight, but I reserved a bargain- basement -no- refund -no -matter -if- God - dies fare.
This week is filled with doctor appointments: cardiac surgeon tomorrow (Dr. H.); primary doctor (Dr. W. - especially important if I want enough pain medication to last while I'm in NC); and cardiologist (Dr. V.) - the one who sensed there was something wrong with my heart despite the inconclusive stress tests he performed in December 2010 - bless his nagging heart. I will, of course, ask all of them if they think I'm fit to go on the trip. I know that I'd be especially safe in my sister's and BIL's hands. Hell, they're the ones who essentially saved my life by insisting I call Dr. V. that fateful Thursday. I guess I'll just have to wait and see and Braille my way through this. My WANT to be better RIGHT NOW is at war with reality. Ugh.
When I compare what I was able to do even a few days ago, much less a whole week ago, I really get a sense of the speed of my healing. I swear writing this blog helps me keep my head on (sorta) straight!
Hopefully, all the drs. will be happy with my progress and give me the go-ahead. I've got to call the airline and find out about things like getting a wheelchair and does that mean any carry-on luggage I have will be taken care of, or will I have to shell out the big bucks for a checked bag. Bastards with those fees!!
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Sunday thoughts
I don't know how much sharing about the experience is TOO much sharing. And that's me worrying about my "audience" more than focusing on what I need/want to say. Gotta get out of my own way.
I described up to my first night after the surgery - as much as I can remember it. God is merciful (through the drugs maybe) in letting me forget some of it. It seems all mushed together now, with specific events hard to pinpoint the when and how. I know some people came and went. In CCU, Cece was almost always there. When the hell did she sleep??!! My chest felt both numb and crushed at the same time. I didn't see my chest for days after the surgery. Believe it or not, there was too much to focus on besides the actual scar site.
My chest didn't seem to belong to me anymore, anyway. It had been slashed and yanked open, my heart stopped and placed on the heart/lung machine, then surgeons and others poking around; cutting this, sewing together that. They all saw a part of me I'll never see myself. Then it was all wired and stitched and glued back together to form something that was technically me, but with which I am totally unfamiliar.
I remember the drains giving me a tremendous amount of pain and the Dr. H. being quite surprised at that. CeCe convinced him to pull them out some hours early and when the drainage was minimal and 'normal looking' - whatever that means. The drains left those two holes below the actual entry site that look like fang bites. I've called them my Vampire bites ever since I saw them. Ugly things. They have to heal from the inside out and they used to weep onto my gown and later onto my home clothes. Yuck! They don't hurt though. One good thing. But they DO itch and I've accidentally scratched then a couple of times - then got all nervous about it, wondering if I'd just infected it with some dreaded staph infection or worse. My mind can always think of "something worse." A healthier part of me would calmly re-wash the fang bite with the antiseptic wash given me at the hospital, carefully pat it dry, change my top for a freshly washed one, and tried to forget about it telling myself all will be OK. So far, that's worked best.
Got some friends coming to see me today. Friday a group of friends came and brought me a meeting to my house complete with goodies to eat. That felt so good. I felt my heart (MY heart????) swell with gratitude. Feeling loved always helps (me) to see the brighter side of things.
Lola is coming back to take care of me while Cece works this week; at least for a few days. Then CeCe has arranged for another friend to come help me during the day. I call them my "babysitters." But they've been so much more than that.
But every day I get a little stronger, even the days that feel "bad" - where I hurt more than usual and feel like crying all day. Yesterday I took a shower with Cece standing outside the shower handing me things as I sat on the stool inside the bathtub and washed. YIPPEE!! Another milestone won!!
I WILL get better and I WILL figure out who this new person - with the tampered-with heart - is. I will try to live without fear. . . OK, with LESS fear and more faith. That can be my goal for now. It's enough.
I described up to my first night after the surgery - as much as I can remember it. God is merciful (through the drugs maybe) in letting me forget some of it. It seems all mushed together now, with specific events hard to pinpoint the when and how. I know some people came and went. In CCU, Cece was almost always there. When the hell did she sleep??!! My chest felt both numb and crushed at the same time. I didn't see my chest for days after the surgery. Believe it or not, there was too much to focus on besides the actual scar site.
My chest didn't seem to belong to me anymore, anyway. It had been slashed and yanked open, my heart stopped and placed on the heart/lung machine, then surgeons and others poking around; cutting this, sewing together that. They all saw a part of me I'll never see myself. Then it was all wired and stitched and glued back together to form something that was technically me, but with which I am totally unfamiliar.
I remember the drains giving me a tremendous amount of pain and the Dr. H. being quite surprised at that. CeCe convinced him to pull them out some hours early and when the drainage was minimal and 'normal looking' - whatever that means. The drains left those two holes below the actual entry site that look like fang bites. I've called them my Vampire bites ever since I saw them. Ugly things. They have to heal from the inside out and they used to weep onto my gown and later onto my home clothes. Yuck! They don't hurt though. One good thing. But they DO itch and I've accidentally scratched then a couple of times - then got all nervous about it, wondering if I'd just infected it with some dreaded staph infection or worse. My mind can always think of "something worse." A healthier part of me would calmly re-wash the fang bite with the antiseptic wash given me at the hospital, carefully pat it dry, change my top for a freshly washed one, and tried to forget about it telling myself all will be OK. So far, that's worked best.
Got some friends coming to see me today. Friday a group of friends came and brought me a meeting to my house complete with goodies to eat. That felt so good. I felt my heart (MY heart????) swell with gratitude. Feeling loved always helps (me) to see the brighter side of things.
Lola is coming back to take care of me while Cece works this week; at least for a few days. Then CeCe has arranged for another friend to come help me during the day. I call them my "babysitters." But they've been so much more than that.
But every day I get a little stronger, even the days that feel "bad" - where I hurt more than usual and feel like crying all day. Yesterday I took a shower with Cece standing outside the shower handing me things as I sat on the stool inside the bathtub and washed. YIPPEE!! Another milestone won!!
I WILL get better and I WILL figure out who this new person - with the tampered-with heart - is. I will try to live without fear. . . OK, with LESS fear and more faith. That can be my goal for now. It's enough.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Slow Saturday
My wife and I discussed a lot of the details of my surgery and hospital stay. So much was going on while I was in my own world struggling and struggling minute-by-minute just to get through. I don't remember a lot of things and things I think I do remember didn't really happen sometimes.
I was in so much fear as they rolled me down to the operating room. My wife and my sister, Peggy, and my daughter, Jenny, and mother-in-law were all there. I'm thinking things like "this can't be happening to me!! No! No! No!" The spiritually aware part of myself is searching for my connection with my Higher Power where there's some hope that this'll all turn out all right. Memories of walking alongside my mother's gurney to surgery five years ago. Mostly just terror.
Then waking up and realizing it was over but being so disoriented that this fact was about the most I could take in. Nurses and people talking and the sounds of medical machines.
Later, terrible agony!! Terror and panic!! I didn't realize it at the moment but they'd given me too much drugs and I wasn't exchanging oxygen and Co2 in my lungs enough to keep me alive. They had a Cpap on my face and I didn't know why?! I couldn't hear the nurse and she couldn't hear my questions over the noise of the machine and when I tried to take the mask off so we could communicate, she asked me if I wanted to die. More panic!! The pain was incredible because they'd used Narcan to reverse the effects of all the pain medications. I'm blind in my right eye and she was on that side so I couldn't see her or understand her or what was going on. She seemed angry at me. Unbelievable agony and terror.
Then, off to the left I see the beautiful heads of my wife and sister (both my health care surrogates). I was SAFE!! My sister took my hand and swept my hair back from my forehead and soothed me while she tried to explain what was happening (she's a nurse and her own husband has had bypass surgery). Meanwhile my understanding wife was dealing with the frustrated nurse, letting her know that I needed to know what was going on; I needed to have things explained to me so I understood and wouldn't panic. She told my nurse that I couldn't see her and was pulling the CPAP away from my face so that I could see and hear her. Also, of course, the memory of seeing my mom on the CPAP Mother's Day morning, the day after her surgery. For her, the CPAP led back to the ventilator that she never got off. The ventilator that I'd promised her I'd never let them put her on.
My beloved wife took my hands and led me on a guided meditation. It was still almost an hour until my next pain medication and would be in agony until then. But she led me to a magic place; I listened and followed her guidance and relaxed. I don't remember most of this except that I felt so safe, and then the pain medication came and life became bearable again. YIPPEE!!
My sister and the CCU nurse were amazed at Cecelia's actions. My sweet Beloved. My Safe Place. How did I get so lucky to have such wonderful people in my life?? My Beloved guided me through the worse hour of my life. My darling sister and daughter were down from NC to see me through this. I had lots to live for and I determined with everything in me that I WAS GOING TO SURVIVE!!!!
I was in so much fear as they rolled me down to the operating room. My wife and my sister, Peggy, and my daughter, Jenny, and mother-in-law were all there. I'm thinking things like "this can't be happening to me!! No! No! No!" The spiritually aware part of myself is searching for my connection with my Higher Power where there's some hope that this'll all turn out all right. Memories of walking alongside my mother's gurney to surgery five years ago. Mostly just terror.
Then waking up and realizing it was over but being so disoriented that this fact was about the most I could take in. Nurses and people talking and the sounds of medical machines.
Later, terrible agony!! Terror and panic!! I didn't realize it at the moment but they'd given me too much drugs and I wasn't exchanging oxygen and Co2 in my lungs enough to keep me alive. They had a Cpap on my face and I didn't know why?! I couldn't hear the nurse and she couldn't hear my questions over the noise of the machine and when I tried to take the mask off so we could communicate, she asked me if I wanted to die. More panic!! The pain was incredible because they'd used Narcan to reverse the effects of all the pain medications. I'm blind in my right eye and she was on that side so I couldn't see her or understand her or what was going on. She seemed angry at me. Unbelievable agony and terror.
Then, off to the left I see the beautiful heads of my wife and sister (both my health care surrogates). I was SAFE!! My sister took my hand and swept my hair back from my forehead and soothed me while she tried to explain what was happening (she's a nurse and her own husband has had bypass surgery). Meanwhile my understanding wife was dealing with the frustrated nurse, letting her know that I needed to know what was going on; I needed to have things explained to me so I understood and wouldn't panic. She told my nurse that I couldn't see her and was pulling the CPAP away from my face so that I could see and hear her. Also, of course, the memory of seeing my mom on the CPAP Mother's Day morning, the day after her surgery. For her, the CPAP led back to the ventilator that she never got off. The ventilator that I'd promised her I'd never let them put her on.
My beloved wife took my hands and led me on a guided meditation. It was still almost an hour until my next pain medication and would be in agony until then. But she led me to a magic place; I listened and followed her guidance and relaxed. I don't remember most of this except that I felt so safe, and then the pain medication came and life became bearable again. YIPPEE!!
My sister and the CCU nurse were amazed at Cecelia's actions. My sweet Beloved. My Safe Place. How did I get so lucky to have such wonderful people in my life?? My Beloved guided me through the worse hour of my life. My darling sister and daughter were down from NC to see me through this. I had lots to live for and I determined with everything in me that I WAS GOING TO SURVIVE!!!!
Friday, May 20, 2011
Today is an up day
Dr. H., my cardiac surgeon, assures me I'll have "up" days and "down" days. Guess Wednesday was an up - day because got told that I'm doing well and can use my arms to get myself in and out of the recliner. FREEDOM!!!! I swear when I couldn't get up myself, I had to pee at least 6 times a night. I hated waking my Cecelia or her friend, Lola, (helping to care for me) so many times during the long, long, nights.
So I went home and got up and down from the recliner probably 40 times and walked completely around the block. Then the pain hit around 23:00 with a vengeance. And Dr. H. isn't exactly free with the pain medication. Hell, he's got me on a lesser Vicodin script than did my regular care doctor for my chronic neck/shoulder/back pain exacerbated by the kind of work I do (at a computer all day long or reading). I frankly don't care all that much what it takes: I just want to feel better; feel NORMAL again!!!
Stupid things hurt my feelings. Like I showed my chest to my housecleaner today who hasn't seen me since the surgery. Just pulled up my t-shirt as usual. It's not like I'm prudish or body-shy on a good day (having lived the nudist lifestyle for many years). So why this funny feeling?? A part of me said, "yeah, just look at my tits and chest, after all, they're not a thing of beauty anymore. They're not part of my sexuality anymore, are they? No, they're just 'the scene of the crime' that everybody wants to look at." Hell, I'd want to look too if it were a friend of mine who had the surgery. So who am I to talk? Why shouldn't they want to know what this terrible surgery looks like? They can take a horror-filled look then run safely back to their own unflawed bodies. Well, I WANT TO SAFELY RUN BACK TO MY (PREVIOUSLY FAIRLY UNFLAWED) BODY MYSELF! But there's no place to run to.
God, I sure can be ungrateful.
Friends are coming over to see me tonight and offer their support. Bless them. And I WILL go take that walk in the evening and maybe it won't hurt too much.
So I went home and got up and down from the recliner probably 40 times and walked completely around the block. Then the pain hit around 23:00 with a vengeance. And Dr. H. isn't exactly free with the pain medication. Hell, he's got me on a lesser Vicodin script than did my regular care doctor for my chronic neck/shoulder/back pain exacerbated by the kind of work I do (at a computer all day long or reading). I frankly don't care all that much what it takes: I just want to feel better; feel NORMAL again!!!
Stupid things hurt my feelings. Like I showed my chest to my housecleaner today who hasn't seen me since the surgery. Just pulled up my t-shirt as usual. It's not like I'm prudish or body-shy on a good day (having lived the nudist lifestyle for many years). So why this funny feeling?? A part of me said, "yeah, just look at my tits and chest, after all, they're not a thing of beauty anymore. They're not part of my sexuality anymore, are they? No, they're just 'the scene of the crime' that everybody wants to look at." Hell, I'd want to look too if it were a friend of mine who had the surgery. So who am I to talk? Why shouldn't they want to know what this terrible surgery looks like? They can take a horror-filled look then run safely back to their own unflawed bodies. Well, I WANT TO SAFELY RUN BACK TO MY (PREVIOUSLY FAIRLY UNFLAWED) BODY MYSELF! But there's no place to run to.
God, I sure can be ungrateful.
Friends are coming over to see me tonight and offer their support. Bless them. And I WILL go take that walk in the evening and maybe it won't hurt too much.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
5/19/11
Today is the anniversary of my mother's death. From cardiac bypass surgery following a heart attack. She was 78 and had had her first MI when she was 61 or 62 - I still can't remember. Going into the hospital on May 3rd for bypass surgery on May 4th was traumatic to say the least. I try hard to fight superstition. And, at least I was in a different hospital. JFK had killed my mother and was the main player in my father's and brother's heart-related deaths. I told myself that I, at least, was in North Palm Beach Gardens. A largely unknown risk factor. The only thing I could remember was my mother saying what a bad hospital it was because it had killed off a couple of her friends. But it's where my cardiologists practiced out of and where the cardiac surgeon recommended by my (partially-trusted) cardiologist practiced. So here I was.
So much was completely out of my control. Have I mentioned how much I HATE things being out of my control??!!! I'm feeling numb, numb, numb. How had this happened? I was the HEALTHY one of the family. I HAD ALL THE BEST GENES!! I'd told myself this for years and refused to take cholesterol meds which had had bad side effects on my sister and mother. I had all kinds of reasons and excuses. They seemed valid. I'd had test after test when any little thing had gone wrong that could POSSIBLY be related to my heart. All because of my family history of heart trouble. It scared me. I hated it. Doctors, it seemed, always brought trouble into your life. They held your life in your hands and they were arrogant about it. I wasn't going to give into them. I was in control of my life. I didn't eat junk. I tried to exercise on a routine basis. Yeah, I carried too much weight. But I kept trying to do the right thing - without taking more medications. Without putting my life more into the care of these uncaring, inhuman persons who represented our health care experts.
So how had it come to this? They said I had three major blockages! Three!! Who were they talking to - they couldn't be talking to me! I'd just had two stress tests with decent results. Some PVCs maybe, but no big deal, right?? RIGHT??!! Yes, my cardiologist suggested I follow up the stress tests with another angio-gram. I felt powerful in saying "no." They could give me no good reason to go through another test. They were all being hysterical. I had (virtually) no symptoms. Why were they trying to scare me?? But now, NOW, they were talking surgery. Three blockages that couldn't be fixed with stents. They were going into my chest; going to CRACK IT OPEN; toy with it, then close it up and it all had to be done RIGHT AWAY!! Were they trying to scare me to death??? How could this be happening?? WHY was this happening?? I was so terrified I just couldn't even think. Couldn't wrap my mind around it. My darling wife, Cecelia, asked the right questions, remembered the answers, started making preparations. Thank God. It was all a blur to me. May had already killed my beloved mother - was it going to get me now? The same thoughts kept whirling in my mind: "I'm the healthy one; what happened?" "how could this be happening to me?" "what did I do wrong? Did I bring this on myself?" My body felt like a foreign land.
Obviously, I lived through the surgery. But my emotions and thoughts are just waking up.
During it was just doing the next right thing to survive. No room to think or feel. Now I want to share what's it's been like and what it's like now. I hope that others who have gone through the same ups and downs of traveling this particular road will relate to my blog and maybe let me know I'm not alone.
In my brain, I KNOW, of course, that there are others - many many others - who have experienced all this. But my feelings . . . my feelings are like wild horses plunging this way and that. I have wonderful, loving, supportive friends and family. So much to be grateful for. I'M ALIVE!!!!!!!
So much was completely out of my control. Have I mentioned how much I HATE things being out of my control??!!! I'm feeling numb, numb, numb. How had this happened? I was the HEALTHY one of the family. I HAD ALL THE BEST GENES!! I'd told myself this for years and refused to take cholesterol meds which had had bad side effects on my sister and mother. I had all kinds of reasons and excuses. They seemed valid. I'd had test after test when any little thing had gone wrong that could POSSIBLY be related to my heart. All because of my family history of heart trouble. It scared me. I hated it. Doctors, it seemed, always brought trouble into your life. They held your life in your hands and they were arrogant about it. I wasn't going to give into them. I was in control of my life. I didn't eat junk. I tried to exercise on a routine basis. Yeah, I carried too much weight. But I kept trying to do the right thing - without taking more medications. Without putting my life more into the care of these uncaring, inhuman persons who represented our health care experts.
So how had it come to this? They said I had three major blockages! Three!! Who were they talking to - they couldn't be talking to me! I'd just had two stress tests with decent results. Some PVCs maybe, but no big deal, right?? RIGHT??!! Yes, my cardiologist suggested I follow up the stress tests with another angio-gram. I felt powerful in saying "no." They could give me no good reason to go through another test. They were all being hysterical. I had (virtually) no symptoms. Why were they trying to scare me?? But now, NOW, they were talking surgery. Three blockages that couldn't be fixed with stents. They were going into my chest; going to CRACK IT OPEN; toy with it, then close it up and it all had to be done RIGHT AWAY!! Were they trying to scare me to death??? How could this be happening?? WHY was this happening?? I was so terrified I just couldn't even think. Couldn't wrap my mind around it. My darling wife, Cecelia, asked the right questions, remembered the answers, started making preparations. Thank God. It was all a blur to me. May had already killed my beloved mother - was it going to get me now? The same thoughts kept whirling in my mind: "I'm the healthy one; what happened?" "how could this be happening to me?" "what did I do wrong? Did I bring this on myself?" My body felt like a foreign land.
Obviously, I lived through the surgery. But my emotions and thoughts are just waking up.
During it was just doing the next right thing to survive. No room to think or feel. Now I want to share what's it's been like and what it's like now. I hope that others who have gone through the same ups and downs of traveling this particular road will relate to my blog and maybe let me know I'm not alone.
In my brain, I KNOW, of course, that there are others - many many others - who have experienced all this. But my feelings . . . my feelings are like wild horses plunging this way and that. I have wonderful, loving, supportive friends and family. So much to be grateful for. I'M ALIVE!!!!!!!
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