The calendar alert on my phone startled me: “SIX WEEKS!”
Wow. Time flies when you’re healing.
So yes, today marks 42 days since my open-heart surgery and five weeks since I was discharged from the hospital.
On that sunny June 6 as Rebecca pushed me in the Wolverine maize and blue wheelchair outside to the car, I gazed up at the clear blue sky and cried tears of joy.
Lisa, the attendant who assists departing patients, gently put her arm on mine. She actually remembered us from five days earlier when we had checked in at the University of Michigan Frankel Cardiovascular Center in Ann Arbor.
“You good, baby?” she asked with the sincerity of a close friend.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I replied, mustering a smile between happy sniffles.
So good. I’m alive, and I’m going home.
God bless America.
I didn’t do much that first week at home. Thank goodness for my wonderful partner, sisters and friends. One particularly ambitious day, I set the table for dinner. Well, that was exhausting!
It was a pretty rough couple of weeks, and I was exhausted most of the time. I slept a lot in a recliner. Most of my activities of daily living required help.
Eating breakfast, showering and then getting dressed qualified as a high-impact Jazzercise workout.
On a scale of 1-5, my pain was a 4. Extra Strength Rapid-Release Tylenol was, and continues to be, my friend. The ticking clock was not.
“Is it time yet? Can I take two more Tylenol, please?” I’d beg Nurse Ratched, knowing it was too soon. So, I’d wait. Maybe I’ll pee a few more times and forget about it.
***
Fast-forward to July 2 and my follow-up visit with the surgeon in Ann Arbor. No tears this time. Just some unexpected nerves and lots of smiles all around.
The checklist was all good: EKG in sweet sinus rhythm, normal chest X-ray, good breath sounds and a nicely healed incision. No more lasix, potassium or coumadin. And the doc’s blessing to ditch those @&$#! support stockings! Amen to that.
“I’m done with you,” said Dr. Steven Bolling, the renowned heart surgeon who repaired my severely regurgitating mitral valve.
Glad I brought you a box of Sanders dark chocolate salted caramels, you charmer. Did I mention they’re for your nurse, Marguerite?
To date, Bolling has performed about 7,500 cardiac surgeries, of which 5,000 involved heart valve procedures. Make that 5,001.
Then, before narrowly escaping my grateful bear cub hug of thanks, he couldn’t help himself.
“Why are you sitting like that?” he asked, scrunching his right shoulder exceedingly lower than his left like Quasimodo.
“No, no, no. Don’t sit like that. You’ve got to move. I know it hurts, but you’ve got to move. Are you moving? Are you walking?” he added.
Yes and yes.
Two Michigan medical students with barely formed heads stood stone faced in the corner of the exam room observing their brilliant mentor.
“Are you getting all of this?” I asked the Doogie Howser bookends.
And with those marching orders, I was released — for time served, no doubt.
***
Yesterday was my follow-up visit with my cardiologist. Actually, it was with her physician’s assistant, another kind soul named Lisa. (Aside: They often call PAs “physician’s extenders.” Reminds me of bra extenders. Look it up.)
Anyway, Lisa was quite impressed with my recuperation so far and that I’ve managed my pain with Tylenol.
“Thoracotomy procedures are among the most painful surgeries because they cut through muscle, fat and tissue,” she consoled. “It’s pretty brutal when those nerves start to wake up. Just give it time, and keep up the good work.”
Better get another box of chocolates.
Next up: Cardiac rehab begins July 24!
(Copyright 2018)
