Recovering from open-heart surgery is a learning experience. For instance: my oldest brother Carl, now passed on, had quintuple by-pass surgery in 2001 or there abouts. He really didn’t do much in the way of the physical therapy required to make the operation completely successful. Consequently, he developed congestive heart failure and died within five years of the operation.
I don’t judge him for not doing the physical activity, he often said it hurt too much and having gone this far in the recovery myself, that is absolutely true: the pain is incredible sometimes. My right leg and foot are swollen and there’s very little to do to alleviate the pain, short of lying down with my leg elevated. But, the alternative, to do none of it, has consequences I don’t wish to experience five years down the road. So, I deal with the pain of doing the physical therapy.
At the moment, the chest incision is quite uncomfortable. So I’m gonna go lay down.
Nothing like a nap to set things right. That’s one of the crazy aspects of recovering from major surgery; your sleep patterns are staggered. The visiting nurse was here yesterday and her recommendation was that when the body wants to sleep, then I should park in bed or the comfy chair and sleep. Hmmm, a slacker’s dream world, Nirvana, Utopia, Xanadu.
And don’t be afraid to take the pain pills, in full force, to stave off the pain. In that regard, I maintain a one every six-eight hours routine, depending if I’m sleeping when the six hours are up. In the hospital the staff would wake me up at the prescribed time to take medications and that was such a nuisance.
On the other hand, waking up with what feels like a lead weight sitting on my chest isn’t such a treat either, so it’s six of one, half dozen of another, but it feels good to wake up, rather than to be woken up and to be honest, it’s getting much easier to climb in and out of bed; I’ve developed a routine actually: I pivot my body to the side—I can only sleep on my back at this point—so my legs are hanging off the side, then I roll to one side o5 the other and lift my body up, lowering my feet to the floor and voila! I’m sitting on the edge of the bed.
The trick to getting in and out of bed is to do so without causing any harm to the sternum since it takes the longest time to repair itself. So, you have to get in and out without using any upper body muscles and bones, are using them sparingly, so you don’t cause the breastbone to shift out of place.
That’s why the doctors suggest we sleep in easy chairs for the first few weeks; it doesn’t take as much body motion to lift ourselves out of the chair as it does a bed. Still, laying flat in bed is so comfortable, I’ll continue to do both! Versatility!
My friends tell me I look much better than when I went into the hospital, one, in fact, said I don’t look so angry. Really? How can that be, I’m in pain. My skin has color again and thanks to the wonders of hospital cooking, I lost six of the pounds I put on waiting to have the procedure. Thanks to my roommate John, I may put it all back on!
Actually, so many friends have stepped up to help me in many different ways, there’s a great chance I’ll continue to drop weight, maybe not to the level my primary care provider thinks is appropriate, but enough to make life much healthier than it was. Already the doctors have told me my heart is working better than it has been in the 13 years since my first heart attack.
Ah, the doctors. The V.A. La Jolla has great doctors, many of whom actually work at the U.C.S.D. Medical Center. The V.A. itself is actually on the campus of the University of California, San Diego. It’s a teaching hospital so when a doctor came to check on me in the hospital there was always a gaggle of student doctors to watch and learn. Talk about exhibitionism.
On the last day, Thursday, one of the chief residents, I’ll refrain from using her name here, came with her gaggle of student doctors to check me out before discharging me from the hospital. Now, besides the gaping hole in my chest, there are five incisions down my right leg, including one in my groin, right next to Little Timmy.
This particular resident is in her mid-30’s and extremely attractive. I like Playboy models and this woman could easily be a hit in any Playboy publication, seriously. So, she and the students check out my chest wounds, pronounce them a-ok for discharge and then the good resident pulled up my PJ’s to look at those incisions. Good to go once again.
Then she unbuttoned my PJ bottoms to check the incision next to Little Timmy and within seconds of brushing around the wonderfully sensitive areas, the resident had conclusive evidence there was ample blood flow going to my groin. She fought back a smile, remaining quite professional, but the students, who knows what they thought, but I was smiling!
A while later the lovely resident came by with a male student to pull the drain tubes from my chest and she was smiling. A week from today I have a follow up appointment and my hope is, the lovely resident will be one of the doctors doing the examination. Indeed, I’ll have no problem stripping down to be examined!
Now it’s time for another nap. Had a 15-minute walk a little earlier and that still takes a toll. Had a 15-minute walk yesterday with the lovely Ilona and her little guy. She’s been one of the people who have stepped up to assist me as I recover from this surgery. Before walking at Lake Miramar, we stopped at Target so I could get bathroom scale. Thanks Ilona, you’re a sweetheart!
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