Still in ICU

I spent Tuesday and Wednesday in ICU. For the most part my room was kept in the dark, more than likely to shield me from the bright lights and to keep me as comfortable as possible. Every once in a while they'd turn the lights on, but not before letting me know beforehand. Gave me time to shield my eyes. The nurses rotated in 12-hour shifts. They'd introduce themselves to me and I would be their one and only charge for their entire shift.

In between my one-hour naps that I was allowed, things pretty much fell into a routine of hourly checks from the nurses or doctors, mealtime, trips to the bathroom, or time for medication. I think at one point I was given six or seven pills to take. I'm not a big fan of swallowing pills en masse, so I took my time by ingesting them with water one at a time.

Midway through Wednesday, there was a bit of a hubbub, at least for me. The nurses were telling me that they had gotten orders to transfer me across the hall, into the step-down unit, for Thursday. They were all excited for me as that's a big step towards recovery. A big step in that direction was the removal of my catheter, which allowed me to pee automatically. I had to remind myself that any urges I had would require me to get up and go to the bathroom henceforth. After careful examination I realized I still had three drainage tubes connected to me, held in place with stitches and bandages: one to my heart and one each to my lungs, through holes just beneath my chest. These then drained fluids into a plastic container with notches in milliliters. As explained to me by the nurses, a side effect of surgery was that fluids would drain from these organs that required artificial means of removal - hence the tubes. These were rather painful as they rubbed up against my ribcage. Any movement on my part reminded me of that. The nurses made sure to tell me to let them know of any pain and they would bring me heavy-dosage pain medication. I did - and they did.

Part of the requirement towards moving to the step-down unit was that I be able to move on my own. A cardiac rehab specialist paid me a visit with a walker. Once she had hooked all my containers to the walker we were able to proceed down the hallway. Slowly. Inch by inch. I kept reminding myself that I've ran 5k races and mini-marathons over the years and that I worked out regularly, that this would be a cinch. May not be much but I think I walked 50 feet - and back - that first time. I was exhausted by the time I got back to my room.

Getting out of bed to go to the bathroom was also a bit of a chore, and painful. I was wearing a red-colored wrist band indicating that I was a patient that required assistance in mobility at all times. I'd press the "Help" button on my remote attached to my bed to request assistance. The nurses would tell me to roll over to my side and prop myself up on my elbow to lift myself. They'd then stick their arm out in front of me to act as leverage for me to grab a hold of. Keep in mind this was barely 24-36 hours after surgery. I was still heavily bandaged, connected to IV fluids, tubes sticking out of me, cables and connectors attached along my ribcage hooked up to a heart rate monitor. And in great pain. Didn't matter how much pain medication I'd already taken, I could still feel it. Getting to the bathroom was a major event as the nurses would assist me in moving all the devices I was attached to (thankfully, some on wheels), and they'd leave all the devices parked outside the bathroom and was given a little bit of privacy to take care of my chores. A curtain being the only bit of privacy between the bathroom and my room.

I looked forward to Thursday. The nurses jokingly assured me I'd be allowed to sleep four hours at a time, instead of the one-hour naps I was taking.

More to come...