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.