Ouch!

Ouch.

Ouuuuccccchh. Did I mention – ouch?

Ok, so they tell you heart surgery is going to hurt, but I don’t think it can be comprehended how much, until you have been through it. So it hurts. A lot. Let’s leave it at that. And move on.

I haven’t blogged for a while, for a variety of reasons.  I’ve been in pain. I’ve been extremely tired. The meds have been messing with my ability to type – anyone that has texted me will already know this. I’ve also been forced to adopt a seriously slower pace of life currently. Everything – and I mean everything – is a huge task right now, from cleaning teeth to standing up.

In line with this and my now much slower, calmer zen lifestyle, I have decided that I will continue to write for a bit, but less regularly – perhaps until I return to work. That seems like a good point to stop.

So then – the operation. The day for the operation was a bit of a whirlwind before going under. I won’t lie, I’m not proud about it, but I was fairly convinced I wasn’t going to wake up. Brave faces and funny award-winning blogs aside when I went under really thought I was going to die. Perhaps it was the drugs or the stress, I don’t know.

But, I didn’t. I woke up. Bruised, battered, cut up and full of tubes. And the surgery went well. Very well apparently.

It took significantly longer than expected – a little over 8 hours and I can’t believe how hard that must have been for those waiting.

After I woke up, there were times, heavily doped and sedated that I thought was dead, although I was confused why the afterlife looked like a hospital and was so dark.  But slowly, slowly, I have been coaxed back to the land of living.

So then post-op. What happens?

You wake up in Intensive Care (ICU) confused, in horrendous pain and with multiple tubes in/out of you. I’ll avoid the really gory details and save these (including pictures for those with the constitution).

The first thing you notice is that you can’t speak. At all. The breathing tube prevents even the smallest squeak despite me trying. I could signal with my hands, just about.

Then they start very slowly removing things over a period of days.

Breathing tube – (so you can speak) is first

Morphine drip – exchanged for fentanyl button

Drains – maybe 50mm plastic tubes removing fluid straight in your chest – these hurt coming out.

Access lines – 3 in arm / 3 in wrist / 1 in neck

Catheter – yuck

Pacing wires – a reserve that was never used and were left in (whilst they had access), just in case the heart needed some pace making later.

Fentanyl button – removed a few days later and switched to Oral pain killers.

After two days in intensive care, I was moved to a private room with a  lovely view of the river to start the real recovery. More on that later I think including militant nurses and the worst shower the world.

For now – some initial closing observations:

• Morphine – was not that fun at high doses – the fentanyl button whilst enabling me to effectively silence boring people was not as fun as I hoped.
• This hurt far more than I can ever describe, but the recovery comes quicker than you could think possible.
• Little things are amazing – going to the toilet, cleaning teeth, eating, standing up, sleeping.
• Crying – heart surgery brings about random confusion and crying about nothing – at any time.
• Fucked up dreams – my dreams, which were already dark have gone to a new level of bat shit mental – not bad, just crazy and hugely vivid and lucid.
• Paranoia – I was fully convinced my second or third ICU nurse was trying to kill me. I have no idea why, and she kept asking why I was anxious – I just couldn’t wait for her to go (she was lovely, all the nurses are) – I was certain she was out to get me. I feel bad now.
• Energy levels – cycles are so odd. Goes up and down in a heartbeat (!).
• I can feel my heart pumping better – it’s weird. But it’s like it’s been kick started back to life and it wants out my chest. Last night I thought I heard blood swishing in my neck artery.

I’ve been super lucky to have amazing people including a world leading surgery team for my care and I am hugely grateful. My surgeon is a genius. And a bit of a nutter.

I am number 19 in the world to have this surgery.  It’s apparently working very well so I expect there to be many more in future.

Lastly, thanks for the messages, for visiting and the support.

Thanks also to all those who signed up to the meal rota. If anyone else wants to help, this really is the main thing we can think of that will hugely help us – take a look at the logistics blog post for the link.

I am hoping to be released today and I haven’t seen my daughter in a week. I miss her a lot, although that’s much better than the alternative.

Look forward to seeing you all soon.

Howard

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