Surgery was scheduled for 7:30 am. We had to be at the hospital at 5:30 am. No food after midnight, little to no water to drink. I had to shower with special soap twice; once the night before, and once the morning of surgery. Boy, I felt squeaky clean and, well, really scared. The weeks before surgery I kept second guessing myself, wondering if I'd made the right decision. I kept going. They had me change into a paper gown lined with icky feeling plastic-y stuff. Bleh. The anesthesiologist came in and talked to me, the surgeon came in and talked to me. A nurse came in and inserted my IV line. Another nurse came in and gave me valium. Everything became surreal and easy. Five hours later I woke up in recovery. It was difficult to wake up because my blood pressure was dangerously low. They pumped me up with as much saline as they could. They gave me ice chips when I asked. That first hour of waking up passed in about 3 hiccups. (Yes, I did have the hiccups.) The second hour in recovery I became more aware. I didn't really care what was going on. I did hurt, some, so they gave me more pain meds. Finally they wheeled me to my room. I heard Rob's voice, and I felt so reassured. Then they moved me from the gurney to my bed. Can we say ouch?
Time passed, nurses came in and out, I got all the pain drugs I needed. The nurses were all very nice. I think my favorite one was the one I had the first night. I guess on the neuro floor, they have only 4 patients per nurse, so it was easy to get help whenever needed. In fact, I don't think I even pushed the nurse call button that first afternoon and night. The pastor from my church dropped by for a visit about the same time that dinner arrived. Oh yah, they told me I was on a general diet, I could have whatever I wanted. So I ordered teriyaki chicken with rice and vegetables. My mouth was still very dry, but I bravely took a bite of chicken. And tried to chew it. And tried. And drank a sip of water. And chewed, and drank, and chewed, and drank. Wow, it's really hard to chew anything when your mouth is parched. And then there's swallowing. I guess after you've been intubated, your throat can be a little swollen. And the huge canker sores that just popped up and became huge while in surgery. One big one on my inner lip, and one on my tongue made chewing even more difficult (but at least they didn't hurt, all those good drugs took care of that). (What are those tubes made of? Am I allergic to it?) Bravely, I decided to try a bite of rice. Silly me! If you can't chew chicken, you also can't make a bunch of grains of rice go down your throat. On to the broccoli. The stem was okay, but all those little florets? ppphhbt. Rob and I enjoyed talking to Pastor J, and then they both left so I could sleep. But first, I asked for more food. This time, I was smart. I ordered homemade chicken soup and a milkshake. Well, I was almost smart. The chicken soup was horribly salty, but I ate it all anyhow. I figured the salt would make me drink more, which would help me hydrate. And the milkshake? Heavenly. I didn't really sleep that night, I was mostly just in a haze. The nurses kept checking on me, taking my blood pressure (around 95/60) and heart rate (generally in the mid 50's). I was only breathing about 8 times a minute, but it was okay. I think for breakfast the next morning I tried some scrambled eggs (ate about 3 bites), canadian bacon (had 1 bite) and applesauce (ate all of it). For lunch I had low-sodium vegetable soup. Bleck. Tasted like something from a can, with NO sodium. I should have combined the two soups! And another milkshake. Yum. Sometime that day S came to visit. That was fun. My friend N called the next night, before she came to see me, and offered to bring me something. I said I didn't think I was allowed to eat "outside" food but the nurse said sure I could. So she brought me a subway sandwich and it was glorious! Right after she left, M came again, with her boyfriend, and also S again. And all this time, I wasn't hurting too much.
The second morning there (Sept 4) the occupational therapist came to see me. She showed me how to put on socks. She made me try it. I could do it, but they were huge, loose socks, so pretty easy to get on. Then the physical therapist stopped by. He made me sit up (log roll style) and then stand up. He gave me the choice of walking to the door or not, and I chose to try it. Success. Then back to bed. Then my surgeon's PA came to visit. She said it was time to take out the catheter. I balked. I asked for breakfast first. I wanted time for breakfast to, errrr...flow out first. So, not too much later, they took it out. It didn't hurt at all, just felt a little odd. What a relief!
When I couldn't avoid it, I asked for help to get to the bathroom. Afterwards, I went for a walk, all the way out of my room and down the hall 20 or 30 feet. It felt like such an accomplishment! And later that day I took another walk, going even further. Eating was getting easier, friends were dropping in, and each time I log-rolled up, it hurt a little less. The next morning: more occupational therapy. This time it was showering. I took the fastest shower on earth. It was odd to be naked in front of two total strangers, but I didn't really care. I washed my hair, sort of, and my face, and said I was done. Got help drying off and got to put on my own pajamas. So much better than the plastic/paper gown! I even got to brush my teeth. Then another physical therapist visited. It was time to try a step. Okay, so I followed her around the hall, the step wasn't where it was supposed to be, so I walked a little farther with her and we found it. I tried the step (did I mention I was using a walker?) and I did a great job. Whew. Up. Down. Up. Down. Done. Bed. I don't remember if it was later the same day or if it was the next, but I had another PT session. This time it was...3 steps! I learned how to turn the walker sideways for stability and go both up and down that way.
During all this time, Rob took some time at home to prepare some meals, and he also went to our church to borrow a walker. What a blessing to have that walker. But he mostly was at the hospital with me. A lot of the time he was on his computer, telecommuting for work, but still, he was there. He's a wonderful guy. (He's even better than a walker!)
It was early on Wednesday that they took the catheter out, and later on Wednesday that they took the drain tube out of me. Yah, that was weird. Then, finally, on Thursday they took the IV needle out! Yahoo! I hated having that thing in me. Lots of visitors that day. Lots of sleep. More milkshakes. They told me I would get to go home on Friday, a whole day sooner than expected. Wow!
The trip out of the hospital in a wheel chair left me feeling woozy, like the world was spinning, but it was such a relief to be going home. Getting into the car hurt, but I did it. And then I went to bed. The first few days and nights were really tough. We sort of compared my needs with those of a baby: I had to be fed, woken every 4 hours for drugs and water, and helped to the bathroom. Rob must have been exhausted. Every evening friends came and visited, and when Rob had to go on an unavoidable business trip, friends came in 3 hour shifts and helped me out. They brought me lunch and dinner, and did kind things like washing the dishes and sweeping up crumbs. The best part was getting to visit. I hope I didn't nod off too much. (Sorry, D.) My daughter M stayed with me two nights, and L came down from WA to stay with me the last night. Then Rob was home again.
Each day I've tried to walk a little farther. I seem to have one good day, and then one hard day. But the hard days are getting a little less hard. My friends and neighbors and family have been wonderful. I couldn't be doing this without them.
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