Reading my daughter's post about her labor and delivery, I felt inspired to put my hospital experience down in 'ink'. Like her, more to just express the thoughts and feelings of the time, not to bore someone with medical tales.
It was March of 2011, and I was in
Chandler Regional Hospital for open heart surgery. I had a condition called
IHSS, and the procedure would be to open up my chest, disconnect my aorta, and do some internal work on the wall of my heart.
When I was first diagnosed with the condition, I was completely in denial, and I kept thinking that the entire situation would just go away. But as the winter months flew by, and my March time period got closer and closer, I became much more scared and nervous. To make matters worse, a few weeks before the surgery I developed a sinus infection and was on anti-biotic. For some reason, my wife was in a real hurry to get me in the surgery, so right up to the day of the surgery I thought my sinus infection was going to cause me to have to reschedule, and I knew that that would really disappoint my wife.
The morning of the surgery finally arrived, and we had to be at the hospital very early to check in. I still had symptoms from the sinus infection, so I suppressed them as much as I could that morning. Again, I did not want to have to postpone and aggravate my wife. So, knowing I was going into a major surgery with a cough, and that I had already cheated death a couple times in my life, I really felt that I would not survive the surgery. Through my daughter's help, I had written up my last will and testament before the surgery.
At the hospital they called my name and I was taken back to the surgery prep room. I stripped and they laid me on a table. A technician shaved my chest and thighs, and they gave me some medicine. It was odd being shaved all over. They also prepped and cleaned me. The surgeon and the anesthesiologist came out to meet me and chat with me. I did not tell them about my cough. Soon, they were wheeling me into the operating room. I had several IV's hooked up to me, one of them must have had the medicine to put me to sleep. I remember meeting the surgical staff, and I remember the bright lights, and that is all I remember as I was soon under the influence.
I don't remember anything more about the surgery. The next thing I remember is waking up in the ICU. I had a respirator in my mouth, and they were working on getting it out. I could see my wife, my oldest daughter was in the room too. I remember only being able to nod my head, and I remember feeling very emotional seeing my wife and daughter there all concerned. I remember that the next few moments were very tense as they removed my respirator and checked to see if I could breath on my own.
As it turned out, and unbeknown to me, I had been in surgery for 7 and 1/2 hours. After the initial procedure was done, they determined that my
heart valve was damaged and had to be replaced with a mechanical valve. 1 funny side to that was that I tick like a clock now.
My wife was alone in the waiting room for those 7 and 1/2 hours. She had preferred to wait alone, but I know she did not expect the surgery to go that long. I feel for her, she has been through a lot with me as her chosen husband. Through the surgery, through the following ICU, recovery, through the 6 days in the hospital, through my subsequent home convalescence, through physical therapy she has not wavered or faltered. She is my champion, my rock.
P.S. I always find humor in all situations, major surgery being no exception. After the surgery, while I was in ICU, I really wanted to get out of there and up to a room. One of the conditions to get out of ICU was I had to be disconnected from my catheter. My recovery nurse had unhooked me and handed me a container and told me I had to make water. I tried and tried, but the dang plumbing was not working. He came in and checked a few times, but no go Mario. Finally, he came in and told me that he'd have to hook me back up. The thought of having that tube shoved up me and stuck in ICU for another day was killing me. I asked him to give me a few more minutes. I prayed, I begged, I thought of pools of water, finally a few dribbles came out. I can honestly say, I have never been prouder in my life when I held up the jug with the dribbles in it to my nurse, my face was beaming. Who would have thought how joyous a little pee could be.
Cheers, nca
