dreamy885
Well-known member
I made a post on Pre-surgery and continued it, but I figured it was more appropriate to just start a new post here. (My surgery was May 12th 2017)
Surgery lasted about 6-7 hours, I woke up in ICU, not able to open my eyes, and a mouth more dry than the Sahara desert. I could hear my family and they offered me ice
chips, which I eagerly took. Someone wiped my eyes with a wet washcloth and I was finally able to see a little bit. I wasn't awake too long before I needed to ask for a puke
bag. Luckily I wasn't full-on retching, just more burping up water than anything, so it wasn't too bad. I found myself alternating between whispering, "ice...morphine" and then
burping/throwing up water into my little bag and asking if they would wipe my chin. I was afraid to look at my incision, I of course don't remember seeing my old one fresh and
I thought it would upset me. I was afraid to ask if he was able to repair my mitral valve instead of having to replace it. The aorta needed replaced no matter what and we were
going mechanical (St. Jude) with that one. It turned out that he was able to repair it, thankfully. Two mechanical valves, especially one in the mitral position puts you at a very
high risk of blood clots. They put lidocaine patches next to my incision on both sides, I had high hopes for them but I still felt like I had been sawed in half. It seemed like a very
short time before they told me they were going to want me to sit up on the side of my bed. I thought they were crazy and I had zero motivation to follow through with this absurd
request. Eventually they came in and said it was time, but they basically pulled me up. Then I asked for my puke bag, got sick and laid back down.
I remember the tv was tiny and near the door, hard for me to see. I focused on the clock instead. I thought, the time just needs to pass and I'll feel better. I'd shut my eyes.
Family and nurses would feed me ice chips and jello and pills inside my applesauce. I would rest for what felt like hours, open my eyes to find that only 5 minutes had gone by.
That was a hard time for me, never understood how that worked. My sister stayed by my side, even if she were sleeping, she would hear my quiet requests for more ice and
to wipe my eyes. Just when I thought I was handling the pain okay enough to somewhat rest, they would empty my drain catcher and "milk" the tube and it would send horrible
pain up into my shoulders, matching, if not surpassing my sternal pain. I would complain but it didn't seem to matter, they had to empty it. After two days I learned that it doesn't
hurt if they only empty it and don't milk it, so I started demanding that they only do that. The next day I walked (shuffled is a better word), only made it to the nurses station and
back. The next time I walked I went clear around half the nurses station and back, I was motivated to work hard to get better. I spent two days in ICU and then moved to the
Telemetry floor on Mother's Day, which was perfect because I didn't want my boys to see me in ICU. They took the contraption out of my neck that my sister was disturbed by.
They had to replace it with an IV and my veins weren't cooperating...to avoid being stuck over and over, I told them to put it wherever would work, they chose my left inner elbow.
I don't think I needed my sick bag anymore once I got up to my new room, but I always kept it close in case. They had me on all sorts of meds; aspirin, warfarin, stool softeners,
something to coat my stomach, beta blockers, a water pill, something for nausea, tylenol and for a short time "Roxi." That night into morning was rough, I became very light-headed
and complained to my nurse about it. My bp had dropped to 87/40 something. I believe they cut either my water pill or beta blocker in half to counter this problem. I was able to eat
a little bit and slowly but surely, my bp rose through the day. I think they took my drain tube out Monday too (day 3), it wasn't fun, but could've been worse I suppose. My surgeon
visited and we talked a little, I wasn't really sure what to say to him though, he's an intimidating guy. He told me he consulted with other doctors and they all agreed repair on the
mitral was the best option. However, I'm still left with some regurgitation. This seems like decent news, even though I had heard repair usually lasts the rest of your life. I try not to
focus on this bit of information.
My sister is still by side every day and night, only leaving for a short while at a time. I'm using my spirometer, even though I'm not good at it. The food at the hospital is very hit
or miss, they want me on a cardiac diet, no overly salty foods. The fruits and veggies are usually a safe bet, but I've gotta watch those green ones. Also, forcing yourself to
drink a lot of water is hard, and that's coming from someone who primarily only drinks water. The next day my sister brings me bottled water (I complained about tap) and
water enhancer, she's a life saver! She also brought a vibrating foot bath, soaked my feet and rubbed them with lotion and we both did face masks. We would sneak down
to the galley late at night for cereal and pb toast, she kept pushing me to walk further every time. My bf would visit whenever he had a chance, but we have two boys (5 & 9)
that he was taking care of. There's nothing like being stuck in the hospital to make you appreciate your significant other. They gave me an ambien this night and it worked
beautifully. When I asked for it the next night, they said it was taken off my chart, huge bummer. I finally asked for a fan though.
On the last day I woke up to a new day nurse, I was bummed because I had the same nurse for many days and she was wonderful! This guy was pretty clueless and I
was thankful that I was 6 days post op and paying attention. I noticed he had forgotten one of my pills and another he didn't cut in half. When my surgeon came in, he asked me
if I felt like I was ready to go home. I told him, "I could go home!" He said we were just trying to get my INR stable so if I agreed to go to the lab for a few days, then I could go
home. So his PA stayed behind to talk to me about discharge and to remove my pacing wires. I don't even want to talk about those. Does everyone get those?? Wow,
I have no words for them! While my sister and I were packing up the last of my things, an elderly woman was having a fit about wanting to leave. On my way out, I asked them
to wheel me over to her. I noticed she didn't have the cut, I asked her to check mine out. She was very surprised and couldn't believe someone so young had heart surgery.
I effectively took her mind off of leaving and waved goodbye.
I'll post more about my first few days home later on in the comments.
Surgery lasted about 6-7 hours, I woke up in ICU, not able to open my eyes, and a mouth more dry than the Sahara desert. I could hear my family and they offered me ice
chips, which I eagerly took. Someone wiped my eyes with a wet washcloth and I was finally able to see a little bit. I wasn't awake too long before I needed to ask for a puke
bag. Luckily I wasn't full-on retching, just more burping up water than anything, so it wasn't too bad. I found myself alternating between whispering, "ice...morphine" and then
burping/throwing up water into my little bag and asking if they would wipe my chin. I was afraid to look at my incision, I of course don't remember seeing my old one fresh and
I thought it would upset me. I was afraid to ask if he was able to repair my mitral valve instead of having to replace it. The aorta needed replaced no matter what and we were
going mechanical (St. Jude) with that one. It turned out that he was able to repair it, thankfully. Two mechanical valves, especially one in the mitral position puts you at a very
high risk of blood clots. They put lidocaine patches next to my incision on both sides, I had high hopes for them but I still felt like I had been sawed in half. It seemed like a very
short time before they told me they were going to want me to sit up on the side of my bed. I thought they were crazy and I had zero motivation to follow through with this absurd
request. Eventually they came in and said it was time, but they basically pulled me up. Then I asked for my puke bag, got sick and laid back down.
I remember the tv was tiny and near the door, hard for me to see. I focused on the clock instead. I thought, the time just needs to pass and I'll feel better. I'd shut my eyes.
Family and nurses would feed me ice chips and jello and pills inside my applesauce. I would rest for what felt like hours, open my eyes to find that only 5 minutes had gone by.
That was a hard time for me, never understood how that worked. My sister stayed by my side, even if she were sleeping, she would hear my quiet requests for more ice and
to wipe my eyes. Just when I thought I was handling the pain okay enough to somewhat rest, they would empty my drain catcher and "milk" the tube and it would send horrible
pain up into my shoulders, matching, if not surpassing my sternal pain. I would complain but it didn't seem to matter, they had to empty it. After two days I learned that it doesn't
hurt if they only empty it and don't milk it, so I started demanding that they only do that. The next day I walked (shuffled is a better word), only made it to the nurses station and
back. The next time I walked I went clear around half the nurses station and back, I was motivated to work hard to get better. I spent two days in ICU and then moved to the
Telemetry floor on Mother's Day, which was perfect because I didn't want my boys to see me in ICU. They took the contraption out of my neck that my sister was disturbed by.
They had to replace it with an IV and my veins weren't cooperating...to avoid being stuck over and over, I told them to put it wherever would work, they chose my left inner elbow.
I don't think I needed my sick bag anymore once I got up to my new room, but I always kept it close in case. They had me on all sorts of meds; aspirin, warfarin, stool softeners,
something to coat my stomach, beta blockers, a water pill, something for nausea, tylenol and for a short time "Roxi." That night into morning was rough, I became very light-headed
and complained to my nurse about it. My bp had dropped to 87/40 something. I believe they cut either my water pill or beta blocker in half to counter this problem. I was able to eat
a little bit and slowly but surely, my bp rose through the day. I think they took my drain tube out Monday too (day 3), it wasn't fun, but could've been worse I suppose. My surgeon
visited and we talked a little, I wasn't really sure what to say to him though, he's an intimidating guy. He told me he consulted with other doctors and they all agreed repair on the
mitral was the best option. However, I'm still left with some regurgitation. This seems like decent news, even though I had heard repair usually lasts the rest of your life. I try not to
focus on this bit of information.
My sister is still by side every day and night, only leaving for a short while at a time. I'm using my spirometer, even though I'm not good at it. The food at the hospital is very hit
or miss, they want me on a cardiac diet, no overly salty foods. The fruits and veggies are usually a safe bet, but I've gotta watch those green ones. Also, forcing yourself to
drink a lot of water is hard, and that's coming from someone who primarily only drinks water. The next day my sister brings me bottled water (I complained about tap) and
water enhancer, she's a life saver! She also brought a vibrating foot bath, soaked my feet and rubbed them with lotion and we both did face masks. We would sneak down
to the galley late at night for cereal and pb toast, she kept pushing me to walk further every time. My bf would visit whenever he had a chance, but we have two boys (5 & 9)
that he was taking care of. There's nothing like being stuck in the hospital to make you appreciate your significant other. They gave me an ambien this night and it worked
beautifully. When I asked for it the next night, they said it was taken off my chart, huge bummer. I finally asked for a fan though.
On the last day I woke up to a new day nurse, I was bummed because I had the same nurse for many days and she was wonderful! This guy was pretty clueless and I
was thankful that I was 6 days post op and paying attention. I noticed he had forgotten one of my pills and another he didn't cut in half. When my surgeon came in, he asked me
if I felt like I was ready to go home. I told him, "I could go home!" He said we were just trying to get my INR stable so if I agreed to go to the lab for a few days, then I could go
home. So his PA stayed behind to talk to me about discharge and to remove my pacing wires. I don't even want to talk about those. Does everyone get those?? Wow,
I have no words for them! While my sister and I were packing up the last of my things, an elderly woman was having a fit about wanting to leave. On my way out, I asked them
to wheel me over to her. I noticed she didn't have the cut, I asked her to check mine out. She was very surprised and couldn't believe someone so young had heart surgery.
I effectively took her mind off of leaving and waved goodbye.
I'll post more about my first few days home later on in the comments.
