I have a vivid memory of waking up post-op.
There was a tube in my throat and even though I was getting air from a ventilator, it feel like I was not breathing.
That was a terrible few seconds until my mind cleared and the realization of what was going on sunk in.
A nurse started speaking to me as soon as my eyes opened. She explained where I was and what was going on. She said she would remove the tube and not to worry, then began doing so.
All told, it was probably only a matter of seconds from waking up not breathing on my own to having the tube removed but it seemed timeless.
It was an indescribable feeling that was quickly replaced by a whole new set of sensations when I took my first deep breath on my own.
It wasn't really painful, I was still too drugged and dopey to feel much pain but it was unpleasant. I felt like I needed to cough but couldn't get enough volume of air into my lungs to do it.
Then I fell back asleep or into a dreamy doze. People came and went but I couldn't really focus on what was happening.
The next time the world came in to clear focus I was out of the Post-Op Intensive Care Unit. It was the day after surgery and I was in a ward with a handful of others all just starting to come around too. This was an intermediate stop before being put in a Cardiac Recovery ward.
I felt like crap to put it bluntly. My lungs felt like they were full of liquid, my chest hurt and my mind was still foggy from the anesthesia and painkillers. My only task that day was to try and cough as much as I could to clear my lungs. Easier said than done.
The unit nurse would come around every few minutes to encourage a cough and see how I was doing. I hadn't had anything to eat yet, only liquids. I felt nauseous but gamely tried to eat a cracker. That didn't work out too well and the pain as I emptied my stomach was shocking.
Throwing up seemed to mark a turning point and even though I was miserable, I started to come around. My mind was clearing. I hurt but it was bearable. The lungs were the worst because the only way to clear them was deep breaths and coughing which expanded the chest and the split sternum. That was the most painful part of the ordeal.
The next day, or maybe later that night, I was moved to the Cardiac Recovery Ward. It was a normal hospital ward with six beds and a nurse on duty day and night.
We were all in rough shape I guess. Each of us had undergone the same surgery within days of each other.
That is where the real recovery began.
Thursday 30 July 2009
Monday 20 July 2009
The Day of Heart Bypass Surgery
Luckily we had made the decision to spend the night in a hotel just across the street from the hospital. It had stormed all night and the roads were really a mess. I got up at 4:00 AM, showered, then used the special antibiotic for one more good cleaning of my chest, groin and legs.
Truth be told, my memory is vague about what actually happened that day. I remember the quality of the light and the feel of the cold on my skin but I don't remember walking across the street to the hospital or whether we were able to drive. There are funny gaps in my memory about the whole process.
One way or the other I found myself registering in the cardiac clinic at 5:00 AM on the morning of Monday, December the 22nd. Because of my pre-admission clinic the past Friday, things should have gone smoothly but due to the weather, things were a bit confused.
They couldn't seem to find my paperwork although my name was on the surgery schedule. It was just that someone was running late and hadn't logged onto their computer yet but to me it seemed to amplify my stress.
I couldn't bear the thought of leaving and having to reschedule this whole thing. The decision was to carry on as if everything was normal and when the administrative staff got through the snow, it would all be straightened out.
They showed me to a room to change into a Johnny shirt and my things were put into a bag for my wife to look after. I didn't know which way was front or back but trust me, it isn't a very pretty sight whichever way it goes on.
When I was changed they led me to a gurney and laid me down behind a screen. Within minutes another of the cheerful young women that populate hospitals showed up to shave my chest and other areas yet again.
My wife, Laura tells a story of another person sitting in the waiting room. He was being admitted to have a spinal fusion operation. As they pulled the curtains around my gurney he leaned over and nudged his companion.
"He's having open heart surgery" he whispered. They both cringed and said "ugh!" in perfect unison.
It strikes me as funny because the thought of spinal surgery makes me cringe, even after what I've been through.
Any way, at some point I was given a sedative to relax me while I waited for things to begin. Also at some point the admitting nurse popped her head in to tell me that the pre-admission clinic had sent along my paperwork and things were all good to go.
Laura and I chatted while we waited but I was slowly fading into oblivion. An IV must have been inserted because I remember looking at the baby blue plastic collar on the needle and wondering who decided what colour they should be. The rest is gone until I woke up in Post-Op.
Laura tells me I missed a lot of comings and goings but in truth, the last lucid memory I have of that day is being shaved by the cheerful young woman who some how knew either me or my parents or something. I never did get it sorted.
Truth be told, my memory is vague about what actually happened that day. I remember the quality of the light and the feel of the cold on my skin but I don't remember walking across the street to the hospital or whether we were able to drive. There are funny gaps in my memory about the whole process.
One way or the other I found myself registering in the cardiac clinic at 5:00 AM on the morning of Monday, December the 22nd. Because of my pre-admission clinic the past Friday, things should have gone smoothly but due to the weather, things were a bit confused.
They couldn't seem to find my paperwork although my name was on the surgery schedule. It was just that someone was running late and hadn't logged onto their computer yet but to me it seemed to amplify my stress.
I couldn't bear the thought of leaving and having to reschedule this whole thing. The decision was to carry on as if everything was normal and when the administrative staff got through the snow, it would all be straightened out.
They showed me to a room to change into a Johnny shirt and my things were put into a bag for my wife to look after. I didn't know which way was front or back but trust me, it isn't a very pretty sight whichever way it goes on.
When I was changed they led me to a gurney and laid me down behind a screen. Within minutes another of the cheerful young women that populate hospitals showed up to shave my chest and other areas yet again.
My wife, Laura tells a story of another person sitting in the waiting room. He was being admitted to have a spinal fusion operation. As they pulled the curtains around my gurney he leaned over and nudged his companion.
"He's having open heart surgery" he whispered. They both cringed and said "ugh!" in perfect unison.
It strikes me as funny because the thought of spinal surgery makes me cringe, even after what I've been through.
Any way, at some point I was given a sedative to relax me while I waited for things to begin. Also at some point the admitting nurse popped her head in to tell me that the pre-admission clinic had sent along my paperwork and things were all good to go.
Laura and I chatted while we waited but I was slowly fading into oblivion. An IV must have been inserted because I remember looking at the baby blue plastic collar on the needle and wondering who decided what colour they should be. The rest is gone until I woke up in Post-Op.
Laura tells me I missed a lot of comings and goings but in truth, the last lucid memory I have of that day is being shaved by the cheerful young woman who some how knew either me or my parents or something. I never did get it sorted.
Sunday 5 July 2009
What is Coronary Artery Bypass Graft Surgery (CABG)?
I have taken the story up to the night before my surgery but thought I should stop here and review just what this whole thing is all about.
When blood is blocked from flowing to your heart you need to do something to restore the flow or your heart can be damaged.
One of the ways to solve the problem is to take a vein from somewhere else and use it to bypass the plugged sections of the arteries around your heart.
I asked my doctor if the veins they take for grafting are not needed where they were. He assured me that new paths for blood flow will develop as needed where they take the grafts from.
The surgery itself takes from three to six hours. The breast bone is divided in half and the ribs are spread open to give the surgeon access to the heart. Then you are hooked up to a heart-lung machine.
At that point your heart is stopped! The machine does the work of your heart and lungs to circulate oxygenated blood through out your body.
In my case they took the veins from my leg to use as grafts to bypass the clogged arteries. Once they were in there they found that only three of the plugs needed grafts, the other blockage had been bypassed naturally by a vein growing to accommodate the new demand.
Once the grafts are in place, (after several hours of life being sustained by the heart-lung machine) your heart is restarted. When your heart is beating normally they disconnect you from the heart-lung machine and close you up.
Your breastbone is held together with wire and your wounds are stitched and stapled.
The distinctive scars from this surgery are what give the Zipper Club its name.
Thursday 2 July 2009
Three Days and Counting
So there I was finishing the pre-admission clinic on a Friday and told that my surgery would be this coming Monday.
This was really it. There was a lot to do and not much time before I would be out of commission for months. The first thing I did was to call my wife.
She advised me to stop by the office and explain to my colleagues what was happening. That was good advice. They were supportive and understanding. There was even a good joke or two along the lines of,”So, you really do have a heart then?”
Before long, we were home and trying to absorb what was about to happen. Poor Laura, poor Nancy, my wife, my daughter and I had been through a lot in the last two months. Now we were heading into yet another stress filled and harrowing experience.
The next day, Saturday, was shopping to get everything I would need for my hospital stay and recuperation; things like pajamas, housecoat and slippers; all the accoutrements of the stylish invalid.
Sunday was stormy. I had to be at the hospital by 5:30 AM Monday morning and the weather channel was predicting a big storm overnight. It was dark and blustery all day but started snowing around 4:30 in the afternoon. Worrying about how to get to the hospital before dawn the next morning we explored several options from booking a taxi to asking my brother to drop me off with his four wheel drive. In the end we decided to head across town before it got too bad and stay in the hotel across the street from the hospital. Come what may, I was confident I could get across the street to my appointment in the morning. Oh yeah, they even gave us a discount on our room because I was checking into the hospital the next morning.
With our plans set, my wife and I had a nice dinner in the dinning room then settled in to watch the city filling with snow.
At the pre-admission clinic they had given me a special antiseptic to wash my chest, groin and legs, once the night before surgery and again in the morning before checking into the hospital.
I went to bed early, sticky from the antiseptic and slept fitfully until 4:00 the next morning.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
