This is Part 4 of my notes about my recent open heart surgery. To read what has come before use these links: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
After my surgery they moved me into the Cardiac ICU unit. There were certain criteria they would use to determine when they could move me into the step down unit. I must say that if I had to have bypass surgery this was the hospital to have it in. Their cardiac facility is consistently rated one of the best in the world. The room was very nice, the people were tops, it was a good place to be. But I wasn’t in a good place to be there (sigh).
After bypass surgery there was a huge incision up the middle of my chest. Just below that there were tubes (I had three) that look like aquarium tubes that drain fluid from the lungs and heart. When I went to breathe it was not possible to suck in more than a tiny bit of air. My air intake hit a point of pain where the air tried to expand my lungs against the tubes and incision, and that just wasn’t happening. They had me on oxygen. And despite their best meds I was in pain. A lot of pain.
The thing I remember most about the first 48 hours after surgery was the clock. There was a clock placed prominently in front of me on the wall. I remember each hour – every hour – hour after hour – telling myself I had to soldier through. There was no sleep. There were constant blood draws and vitals checks around the clock. I’d watch the hour go by, first 10 minutes, then 20. I had no appetite. I didn’t need to be occupied or entertained. I hurt. And my mind was trying to get a grasp on what had transpired.
During the first 48 hours, actually within 12 hours or so, they moved me from ICU to their step-down unit. They told me I was doing well and that everything had gone well. That news mixed with my own thoughts about what I was going through, and that kept my thoughts whirring. I remember the overnight hours. I had a window in my room that looked out over the nearby trees. The clock kept going, hour by hour, and that was mixed with bouts of prayer and minutes of thinking about my family. I was grateful. I was alive. I have an excellent wife and children. Although this was an extremely difficult time of pain, I tried to bind the pain to motivate me, push me, and ensure I didn’t give up fighting it.
There were milestones that came in the hours I was in the step-down unit. First they were able to remove the oxygen mask. They took x-rays of my heart and lungs which they said were good. They took out the Foley catheter (ow) that was there from surgery. And I got out of bed to go to the bathroom. Then on Sunday they took out the drain tubes from my chest. That didn’t hurt but it felt weird. It turns out that the tubes are secured in place with a single suture to the outside wall of the heart itself. When they took out the tubes I felt a tiny pop in my chest. The surgeon team nurse that was removing them said that was the suture breaking to let them pull out the tube. Ok, that was a little freaky I admit.
Taking out the draining tubes had a huge impact on reducing the pain. It was a little easier to breathe too. So I had surgery on Thursday morning and now it was Sunday afternoon. The nurse told me if everything continued to go well overnight that I would be ready for discharge the next day. That seemed improbable since I had been told it would take 6 months for me to feel human again. And that the surgeon had ordered 12 weeks of short term disability for me. But, then again, by every account I was healing on schedule and there were no complications or problems that would require me to stay in the hospital longer.
In my next post I will write about my discharge. Well, discharge from the first hospital with bed-to-bed transfer to another… but I’ll explain more in the next post.