Happy Friday. I believe this is where we left off:
L is for … lasix, also known as furosemide, a diuretic medication used to reduce excess fluid in the body: It’s likely your doctor will put you on a diuretic such as lasix, which can make you pee like a racehorse within minutes of taking it. If you’re lucky, they’ll let you take it in the morning, so by the time you’re ready for bed, most of it will be out of your system. My advice until you’re weaned off this stuff? Never pass up the opportunity to use a bathroom. Reminds me of a joke: Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl going to the bathroom? Because the “p” is silent. Urine my thoughts.
M is for … Macy’s, as in feeling like a freakin’ Thanksgiving Day Parade float after gaining nearly 20 pounds of fluid during my three-hour surgery: Apparently, additional fluid is necessary in serious operations to protect expanding organs. Indeed. I’m not fat; I’m just fluid.
N is for … numb, as in with a thoracotomy incision, zillions of temporarily deadened nerves eventually start to wake up: My wonderful University of Michigan Hospital cardiac nurse, Marguerite, explained it as feeling as if you have a “third boob.” At the time, I had no clue what she meant. But I do now. Best I can say is it’s a sharp, shooting pain in my right side and corresponding breast, akin to stepping on a pile of fire ants. Except it’s in your chest. According to WebMD, your surgical cut will go through three phases: swelling, rebuilding and remodeling. Over time, the feeling should become less intense and happen less often. I’m awaiting that final stage — at about six months post-op — when I’m in the home stretch. Meantime, Tylenol and over-the-counter lidocaine pain patches provide some relief as you’re getting sensations back in your nerves. But they’re not quite as effective as having a fresh cup of hot coffee knocked into your lap requiring treatment for third-degree burns to recently shaved privates. (You know who you are, dear heart. I still love you, but you owe me big time.)
O is for … oy, as in I don’t remember it being this hard the last time I had open-heart surgery in 2001: OK, so I was 17 years younger (age 41) and underwent a textbook sternotomy, which was no walk in the park. But I don’t remember being this sore or crabby.
P is for … well, pee, of course: I have nothing to add, other than I have to pee.
Q is for … quiet, as in something I crave 24/7: Seems the noise around me has increased tenfold since my May 31 surgery. Everything is louder. Conversations, TV (and not just the ads), lawn mowers, barking dogs. I find myself actually “shushing” offenders. WTH? I hear it’s common after heart surgery. Part of the adjustment once you’re in the road to recovery. If you’re a caregiver for a recuperating heart patient, you may want to keep this in mind. Turn down the volume. Quiet, please. Be patient. Wear your headphones.
R is for … Rebecca, as in my shining angel of a caregiver and partner: I’d be lost without you. And now we both know it for sure.❤️
S is for … stool softener, as in take it if you’re having bowel movement issues: You won’t regret it. Your gut will thank you.
T is for … tush, as in well, your butt, and individual flushable wipes for those, um, hard-to-reach areas: Whether you’ve had open-heart surgery via sternotomy, thoracotomy or some other less-invasive approach, you’re gonna find it hard to wipe in those first few weeks of healing. These individual wipes are gentle, effective and they don’t rip off your skin. I tried the PureTouch brand, which were a bit too soapy. Perhaps I’ll switch to Cottonelle, which consistently receive four stars, maybe because they’re alcohol-free and have better TV commercials. “Don’t just wipe … wash with Cottonelle … for a truly superior clean.” OK, I’ll stop.
U is for … urine, as in I’ll never look at liter of Pepsi the same way again: Apparently, since my surgery, I have eliminated more fluid ounces of water weight than pop served at a John Family reunion. They say your body can retain anywhere from 15 pounds to 40 pounds of fluid during a major operation, such as heart valve repair surgery. No shit, Sherlock. My second day in ICU they weighed me, and the springs shot out of the scale like a Road Runner cartoon. I gasped and asked the aide if that number was in kilos. “Um, no, it’s just a lotta pounds,” she said. Holy crap! One of my doc’s overzealous physician’s assistants actually chastised me for gaining too much weight during surgery. Excuse me? That’s like smacking a bullied kid for wetting the bed. I relayed the story to my night nurse, adding that I wanted to tell the PA, “Bite me, Dough Boy, you don’t look like you’ve missed a meal.” She laughed, and that PA was nicer to me the next time I saw him. Granted, my pre-surgery fighting weight was nothing to brag about, but it was well below that of a small car. Google math alert: 1 liter of fluid equals 2.2 pounds of water. So, figure about 9 liters of Pepsi — those really big bottles — equals just under 20 pounds of water. Line ‘em up at your next BBQ. Brag to your grandchildren.
V is for … vows, as in marriage: I’ve always thought it was way too easy to get married. Which may be why America’s divorce rate is anywhere from 40 percent to 50 percent. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. As in, if I am unable to perform three of the five activities of daily living, will you not only wipe my tears, but also my tush when I cannot reach it? I do. Just remember: front to back.
W is for … water, as in drink plenty of it: Hydration is key to your recovery. Drink lotsa water. Coffee, tea, soft drinks, booze? Not so much. Watch the sugar intake from fruit juices, too. Natural doesn’t mean diet. You’ve come this far. Don’t ruin it. Stick to the heart-healthy plan they suggest.
X is for … X-ray, as in getting one while I was still in the hospital: One day, two women in blue picked me up from step-down care to get a complimentary chest X-ray. Their navy hospital scrubs were embroidered with “SWAT” on the breast pocket. What’s that stand for, I asked? “Smart Women Against Testosterone,” one of them replied. “Yeah, sometimes we have to kick down doors,” the other chimed in. Now that’s how you have fun working three, 12-hour shifts. Told them they’d be forever known to me as “Cagney & Lacey,” after the 1980s female-led cop show.
Y is for … yuck, as in unwanted chin hairs and “unibrows”: Women of a certain age will appreciate this one. You know you’re on the mend when seeing your own unibrow doesn’t make you think of legendary artist Frida Kahlo, but instead of “Sesame Street’s” Bert. (In some cultures, the single eyebrow is a sign of virility for men. Figures.) Or, you’re getting better if the sight of spindly hairs forming a goatee on your chin horrifies you enough that you actually give a pluck. Or, when the hair on your underarms and legs grows to lengths suitable for braiding, and you think, “ick.” As the product of an Italian mother and Syrian father, I am, truth be told, a rather hairy girl. So here’s a smart gift idea for your favorite heart patient: Instead of flowers, how about a wet/dry electric razor so they avoid cutting themselves while shaving? (Thanks, Rebecca.) Remember, taking blood thinners such as Warfarin/Coumadin can make you vulnerable to bleeding, even from small cuts. Let the grooming begin!
Z is for … ZZZs, as in catching some: It’s nap time. Have a great weekend!
(Copyright 2018)
