Category: Hospital

Surgery Day

Up at 4am.  To the hospital before 5:30.  Let the games begin!  We do not sit around and wait for long.  We are taken back and put in a prep room.  Nurse comes in and asks questions and is way too cheery for that time in the morning.  Then she leaves us so Ken will be able to get “dressed”.  More like UNdressed.  Gown and socks only.

Let the fun begin!  Vitals checked, tons of questions asked and answered.  Then the shaving starts.  Yes, I said shaving.  TEEHEE!  Ken got almost all of his front half shaved.  Neck down.  He had already shaved his face the night before.  He made sure to tell the young nurse who was shaving him that he was a bit ticklish on his tummy.  She was avoiding that while others where coming and going and talking to him.  This process took the better part of an hour.  The whole time she worked hard to keep the more private parts covered.  When she did get to shaving the stomach area, it was VERY amusing.  Ken had to clench all up and make faces while trying not to laugh.  Trust me, there were some escaping giggles.

More vitals and questions before he was taken away from me and I went to the waiting room to collect my beeper.  The beeper was my life line to Ken.  Now, I will not say that I was scared or even really worried just yet.  I had instructions on how the day would go and what to expect.  I knew there was a board in the waiting area that told you where your person was in the process.  I had a color coated card to be sure I could read it.  I had a beeper that would go off any time there was news and I needed to talk to someone.  I also had three of the most awesome friends waiting for me.

Lisa, Teresa, and Kerry were waiting for me when I came out.  They drove over from Illinois the night before and stayed near by.  I was so glad to see their sleepy faces!  After greetings and a little discussion they went down to the cafeteria with me.  I would not have made it through without the distraction they brought me.  It went a little like this…  I would check “the board” and one of them would check on me.  The beeper would go off and I would go find out what was going on, and they all watched my every move.  Once they knew life was good, they went back to the jokes and the stories.  The teasing and the laughter.  Yes, that is what friends are for!  Eventually his sister, Vicki, showed up too.  She was there for the talk with the surgeon and this was very helpful.

When surgery was over they told me they would come get me when he was settled and I would be allowed to visit for 10 minutes every hour.  Only 10 minutes!?!?!  OK…I guess.  I was retrieved and went back for my first 10 minute visit.  He was aware and looked at me and squeezed my hand.  That was all I could ask for at that point.  After my 10 minutes I went back out to say good bye to my fantastic friends.  I could not thank them enough for what they did.  Then his sister and I sat and waited until the next visit time.

More waiting and progress stories to come.

Missy  🙂

Surgery makes one a busy person

It’s been two weeks since my last post.  Where does the time go?  Well, I’m gonna tell ya.  The last week before surgery was a plethora of appointments.  Some very valuable and important, some just seemingly dumb.  An example of the valuable:  an appointment where Missy and I went for almost half a day and met with a nurse and got the full low-down on what will happen and what to expect.  This was our chance to ask any questions we wanted.  We used our chance, you bet.

An example of the seemingly dumb:  I had to go to my family doctor for a pre-surgery physical, and get their clearance.  Ummm, why?  The family doc checked my vitals such as blood pressure, temperature, breathing, etc… things that the cardiologist and the surgeon and everyone else had been doing on an almost daily basis for the last two weeks… then they asked a bunch of questions from a checklist, AND it also cost me over two hours off work and a $30 co-pay.  I’m sorry, but I feel that I got no benefit out of that whatsoever.

One week of the last two weeks was occupied by my actual surgery and hospital recovery.  Yes, it finally happened!  Last Tuesday, September 11, 2018, was the big day.  I had fully intended to pick up the blogging a few days afterward, most likely in the hospital.  I mean, how hard can it be to bang on a keyboard and blog, right?  Apparently, harder than it sounds.  I simply did not feel like it.  I slept.  A LOT!!!  I came home two days ago, and even now I tire very easily.  Not sleeping as much, but something as simple as typing something can be exhausting.

So, anyway, the day of surgery comes.  I have to be there for check-in at 5:30 am.  I get up at 4:00 am, take a shower and scrub with some special cleaning solution pre-injected into a sponge, intended reduce the risk of infection by removing as many organisms from your body as possible.  I had shaved my beard the previous night, for the same reason.  First time I had done that in over ten years.

Anyway, we get there, check in, and am led to the back for prep.  I’m introduced to several nurses who have various roles.  The whole vital sign check… which will become a ubiquitous facet of life for the next week, along with repeating ny name and birthday… and other sundry tasks, including… the body shaving.  Yes, the body shaving.  I was not allowed to do this myself, again to avoid infection if I were to nick myself.  A young girl got the joy of shaving me.  I will say they were very cautious and very respectful, during this process.  I remained covered as much as possible at every step.  They used a special electric razor that virtually eliminates any risk of nick or cut.  Now, I was informed early that half my body would be shaved.  Which half, you ask?  Surely the top half, it is heart surgery, of course.  No, the front half.  The imagination runs wild.

End result it that, with the exception of a tuft around the “twig & berries”, the front half of my body was silken smooth, first time since probably babyhood.  This included my left armpit, by the way, but not the right armpit.  Had something to do with them taking an artery from the left arm, or something like that.

This last description is for the benefit of a co-worker of mine who was intensely interested in this aspect.  Which is ok, because once you get discharged from the hospital you have no modesty left anyway.

So, 7:30 gets closer and I get a visit from the anesthesiologist and the surgeon.  We all talk some, and I get wheeled from the prep room into the surgery room, all the while asking questions like how many surgery rooms they have total (12), how many are pretty much dedicated to heart only (2, but 2 others are purely dedicated to cancer), do they ever have all 12 going at the same time (yes, but not often), and so on.

And that’s where my memory ends.  There is a several hour void until after everything is said and done.  We’ll pick up post-surgery in the next post.

Discharge!

The next morning I get woke up by a nurse at 6:00 am with a single pill for me to take.  Yes, I was a bit annoyed, especially when they bring the rest of my pills with breakfast two hours later.  My surgeon is supposed to visit a couple hours later, as well, so I go back to sleep.  About an hour and a half later I wake up with my surgeon standing over me, smiling, and ready to talk.  Oh, ok, let’s talk.

A bunch of people come in and out over the next couple hours, each with a different task.  My proclamation of sarcasm seems to have worked well for making friends with my assigned nurses, gave us something to talk about and they better understood my corny jokes.  Consensus is that I’m ok, for now, and no reason to keep me any longer.  Also no reason to move up the surgery date, and we keep the appointments I have planned for the next week.  I’m ok with that.  As much as I want to get it done, I also want the time I had set aside in my mind to get things done beforehand.  Stuff with work, personal tasks, a couple more paychecks if I have to be honest, stuff like that.

We finally, get clearance to check out and go home, so Missy and I get around, get dressed, and do just that.  Not without eating lunch out, of course.  Now I have to make a comment on the hospital food.  Maybe I’m in the Twilight Zone, or something, but my experiences so far have been positive.  The food I’ve had so far, and with my thyroid surgery about five years ago, has actually been pretty tasty.  Last night I had meat loaf and mashed potatoes with gravy and green beans and some frozen cherry yogurt push up thingy that was pretty good.  Breakfast this morning was french toast… no bacon :(… with sugarless syrup that was surprisingly good, milk, and cereal.  I was pleasantly surprised.  I have a friend who has been having some medical issues and been in and out of the hospital and can’t seem to get a good meal.  She does things sometimes like have pizza delivered.  (We have our Toastmaster meetings in this hospital, as well, and I’ve seen pizza delivery people here, too.)

So, we go home, I go back to work the next day, and take it easy during the weekend.  The next week will be a few appointments and things are about to get busier.  Much busier.

Uh oh!

…I woke up on a Wednesday morning, August 22nd, and didn’t feel right.  Discomfort in my chest, shortness of breath, and the slightest exertion such as tying my shoes wore me out.  People always ask me about chest *pain*, and maybe one’s personal definition of pain applies here, but I’ve never felt chest pain, only discomfort.  Which I normally blow off as acid reflux, which I have too, and which mimics the same symptoms.

Anyway, I get ready for work, and am sitting on the side of the bed contemplating what to do.  I finally decide that I’m going to call in and go back to bed.  I can sleep it off, I tell myself.  So, I do that, and also text Missy to let her know.

Missy is suddenly worried.  The doctors said after the angioplasty that if I experience ANY signs of pain or discomfort to get myself to the ER, either by ride or 911.  She tries to call.  No answer.  Keeps trying.  No answers at all.  (I was sleeping.)  Fearing the worst, the worry gets to be too much so she leaves work and heads home.

I wake up about 9:30am as she’s crawling into bed with me.  I eventually wake up fully, and she asks me whats going on.  I figure there’s no way I can my usual uncommunicative self, so I fill her in.  She’s now riding that fine line between feeling relief that I’m “ok”, and feeling upset because I worried her so much.  She also insists that I go the the ER… so we get dress and I go to the ER.

We get to the ER… she drove… and I walk up to the window and am greeted by three ladies.  One asks what I’m there for.  I say that I’m having chest discomfort and am going to have by-pass surgery in 2 to 4 weeks.  They immediately burst into action.  The one takes my info, another one offers me a wheelchair, and a third speaks into a microphone on her chest, something that was all code but obviously about me to get people in the back into action.  And action it was.  I didn’t even have a chance to sit down even if I wanted to.  I am escorted to a room where they begin to undress me from the waist up, and start poking and prodding and asking questions, about four people total, if I recall correctly, and even more enter and do their thing and leave at various times afterward.  I bet I was worked on and talked to by over a dozen people just in the ER.  It was actually kind of impressive in its efficiency.

I get my chest x-rayed.  There are various tests, many involving the drawing of blood, I take my first ever nitro glycerine pill, more questions, and I swear every person who wondered within a 100′ radius felt the need to break out their stethoscope and listen to my lungs and heart.

I going to have to apologize because I don’t always remember all the technical terms and names of the tests, but they did one checking for some anti-body or something in my blood, and it checked out fine, but they had to wait I think three or four hours to do again, which checked out fine.  Meanwhile, my cardiologists partner was on duty that day, and I met her and she was helping to try and figure out what might be wrong, and whether or not I might have to stay.

At the end of it all, she says that she’s not comfortable with my lack of diagnosis, she can’t rule out anything, so she’d like to keep me overnight for observation.  Ok, I suppose.  (I always wonder what they’d do if someone refused.  I’m sure it happens.)  They get some paperwork done, and wheel me, in my bed, upstairs to my room for the night.  For this trip, and my x-ray trip, they always seem to have the most petite young women wheeling my and my huge NASCAR-looking bed around the place, yet they seem to be used to it and aren’t struggling too much.

Anyway, I get the most awesome room.  For a hospital and in Cedar Rapids, anyway.  It’s a corner room, with a clear view of the s-curve of the adjoining freeway, and lots of light and a very airy feeling.  I ask if I can request the same room for after my surgery… they laugh.  My new assigned main nurse asks me to tell something about myself so she can put something on my white board to help people connect.  I say that I’m very sarcastic, and it works, because that little tidbit does help spur conversation during my stay.

Missy and I settle in for the night.  Missy goes home to take care of a couple things.  My son and my sister visit, and we have the most wonderful conversation for about an hour, just catching up.  It almost feels like a night out at a hotel, except for the constant checking on my breathing… I’m tellin’ ya, every person that walks by.