Sunday, April 1, 2012

DAY 27 - Recovery

The view from my hospital room in the heart care unit was roof tops - flat ones and at different levels.  It looked perfect for a high-rise chase scene, but the only movement I saw was clouds floating by.  Inside my room was not as serene. 

Several days after open heart surgery the dressings on my chest  were removed.  The nurse remarked that it looked very good.  She said I was lucky to have a surgeon with small hands because it was the smallest incision she'd ever seen.  When I  got a good view of my chest for the first time, I almost went into shock.  If that was what good looked like, I didn't want to ever think about bad.  Had someone glued a 4 1/2-inch dirty reddish-brown rope to the center of my chest?  My whole chest was ugly.  Black and blue bruises spotted my skin.  A half-dozen sensors were stuck in random places that connected to a heart monitor.  Two drainage tubes protruded from my stomach area and wires from the temporary pacemaker were poking out.  I thought the cut would have been lower like totally between my boobs so it could be passed off as cleavage.   I had no idea the incision would start less than 3-inches from my throat.

Just as the scar doesn't look anything like I expected, the pain was also a surprise.  There was none.  How could my skin have been sliced open, my breastbone sawed and pulled apart and my heart have been cut into and I don't feel anything?  Paper cuts hurt worse than this.  Each patient was given a pretty heart shaped pillow to hold against their body to ease the pain when they'd cough or sneeze.  I used mine to prop up the portable heart monitor case that seemed a little too heavy to be considered portable. 

Even though there was no pain from the heart surgery, I still paid my dues in the pain department.  Once the blood clots formed in my lungs the pain in my right lung was constant and stabbing.  Who knew that blood clots could be so painful?   

The temporary pacemaker and the drainage tubes were pulled out and eventually the bruises faded.  Some random marks remain as does one of the drainage port incisions that, due to a fold of skin over the scar, looks exactly like a second belly button.  It's  right in line and about two inches above my real belly button.  Yeah, real cute.  Like I've always wanted another navel.   The dirty rope stuff on my incision was an adhesive that held the skin together, rather than stitches.  It started falling off after five weeks and now I'm left with a deep red line.  Thankfully it's flat but there is a small pocket of swelling where it starts at the top.  I've always thought that scars on guys were sexy, on old ladies, I'd say they look more Frankensteinish. 

Today was a step backward.  I experience total exhaustion and nausea most of the day.  I pushed myself to set a few more bricks in the greenhouse and did some potting in the plant yard.  Like yesterday I walked the incline from the cabin to the barn.  I also had a shepherd's moment when I walked the goats to the upper pasture where they grazed while I sat on the ground and took in the view and the clouds. It was very peaceful and relaxing.  

Meds:   Coumadin, Furosemide, Bupropion, Multaq, aspirin 81mg, Namenda, Metroprolol, Zantac, multivitamin, vitamin D, I-Caps, 2 bananas (potassium)

2 comments:

Harold/AQ said...

It's all recovery, Peggy. Some days are more productive or rewarding than others, but it's all recovery. Keeping good thoughts for you and all who love you!
Harold

auntie said...

Think of those scars as trophys. Every time I look down at all the scars all over my body I get depressed. My husband calls them trophys won in the service of God and my family.
Progress is slow, yes but every step forward is one less you have to take. Prayers are still coming your way.