last time i wrote, i think i had just returned from Sicily, and was well on my way to Sweden... Well, the trip to Sweden wasn't purely for fun, as i had a heart surgery appointment on may 5th. And lemme tell ya - that was no joke. :(
I've had a very minor heart murmur for some 15+ years, u used to go in for check ups every year, or every 2 years, just to make sure it didn't develop into something worse, but.. after moving to Cali and not having been home for quite some time, i just haven't had a check up for.. years? :) so.. when i went home in March, i went in - for what i thought was a routine check up- only to hear my doctor say 'uhm.. this doesn't look good'.. and that's not something you want your HEART doctor EVER to say.. at all.
so.. from ultra sound room, to cat scan, to long talk with the doctor - come to find out my aorta has been expanded to almost 6cm, should be right around 3cm... and the valve problem from before had become more severe, but.. nobody knew HOW severe, it was really hard to see on the ultrasound.
so.. this was monday afternoon.. my flight back to London was tuesday afternoon.. il dottore asks: so.. you're staying here, right? to wait for the surgery? i told him no, that i had to go back to work, and sitting home in my little town, i think i'd have lost my mind - long before the surgery.. :) he says he doesn't think i should go back, as the problem is quite severe.. and IF i do decide to go back, i am not allowed to lift anything heavy, no gym, very light exercise and so on..
so.. i get on the flight the following day, with a 24kilo bag.. not that heavy.. :D
heck, i think i am immortal, and the severity of my problem just isn't affecting me, at all. i can't believe there's something so potentially lethally wrong with me, i am supposed to live forever, no?
back to london i went. try to take it easy, not working to omuch, not lifting, not partying, just acting like an 80 yr old woman, in a 33 yr's body..
and back to sweden again on may 1st.
not until we were in the car on the way to the hospital, did it start to dawn on me that i was going in for a friggin HEART SURGERY.. me?? 33 years old, never been seriously ill, never been hospitalized for anything - heart surgery??? surely someone must have mis read the scans. :(
so.. we get to the town where the hospital is.. get there fairly late on Saturday night, stay with my aunt before going in to register on Sunday am. can't say that i slept too much that night - partially because the bed was horribly uncomfortable (sorry auntie!!), but also because my thought were whirling.
me and mom get to the hospital on sunday am, and met dad there. we get up to the ward, register, sit around and wait just about forever, meet the doctor, meet the anastesiologist (spelling??) and then we escape to pick little sister up from the bus station and head out to dinner.. all 4 of us, for the first time in 10 years. :D so.. nothing bad that doesn't carry something good with it, eh? :)
after dinner back to the hospital to spend 1 night at the patient hotel, before officially being admitted monday am. Monday is a blur of preparations, meeting different people, getting information abt what's to come, but also a lot of waiting around, waiting. and more waiting.
urgh.
so.. tuesday am.. woke up around 6, for surgery time at 7.30.. showered, scrubbed, scrubbed some more, and some more, juuuust to be on the safe side. dress in fancy schmancy hospital gear (my own stuff had already been packed away, locked up in some closet somewhere, potentially never to be seen again. ;)
around 7am was given some kind of calming meds, and that's the last i remember. woke up after surgery, no idea what day it was, no idea of anything pretty much. super groggy, in pain, just uncomfortable, super swollen (gained about 20kilos in pure fluid retention), seeing super cool images behind myclosed eye lids. i think i woke up at some point, to ask what time it was, but.. later was told that i had a breathing thing down my throat, so.. guess that didn't happen. :|
woke up once, somewhat coherent, with dad crying next to the bed. woke up, nurses made me sit up - and that hurt like bloody murder.
woke up, nurses made me walk over to the window - a matter of 20 steps, and i barely made it. first couple of days in the IV was horrible.. or, i shouldn't say that. i was pretty nicely doped up, but.. every breath hurt, the breathing excersices hurt, it hurt to sit up, it hurt to cough. hurt to be awake, hurt to sleep. family came and went, my body was super swollen, little sister wanted to take pics to put on facebook, but.. since i wasn't really coherent at that time, i just gave her the finger.. :(
family came and brought 'fil' and cloudberry jam - sooo good. so so so good. even tho i could only eat a few spoon fulls, it was heavenly.
2 days later i am transfered into an interrim room, to share with 3 other patients. i am given some kind of vitamin drink to drink, and they let me try solid foods again.
That drink isn't sitting well with my stomach - at all. first time i have it, i just get really nauseous, and almost throw up. second time i do throw up.. all over mrB's hands.. but.. imagine trying to throw up, with a chest that's recovering from open heart surgery.. you can imagine how that went? so.. i try to throw up, in sooo much pain, that half of it, amongst some phlegm and whatnot get stuck i my throat, so i start to choke. it hurts too much to cough it all up, so i can barely breathe.. must've been a sight for sore eyes, throwing up, choking, crying, coughing. just an all over mess.. and my poor sister bursted out hysterically laughing in the room.
great.
in this room in finally get to shower, even tho it's kind of demeaning to have someone shower you.. but.. it felt great. :D i even walked on my own to the bathroom - a whopping 10 steps of so. had to sleep for a couple of hours after that ordeal, but.. at least i was clean.
then 4th day or so, i get my own room, where i stay for the remainder of the 13 days i am there. sleep, pain killers, hospital food, amazing nurses, meds, more sleep, more amazing nurses, wheel chair trips out to the balcony with mrB and dad. Family visiting on and off, more sleep, food, sleep, sweating my behind off at night due to the hard core pain killers.
then.. came time for physical therapy.
ha. to begin with.. when you have to take oxycontin BEFORE going to the physical therapy, you know it's bad.
we're in a room, maybe 8 of us.. i am easily 30 years younger than the next youngest person in there.. 3 older ladies who had had some kind of lung surgery, and hence were a bit more mobile.. they were all chatting abt walking up and down the stairs that morning for exercise.. and here i had barely managed to walk the 30 steps it took to get to the p.t room..
so.. first exercise was to lift your arms above the head.. that hurt. like nothing i've ever felt before.. imagine trying to lift your arms up, with a ribcage that's been cracked open? you can't? ha, neither could i- until that very day.. after not even 15 min of exercises i was absolutely drenched in sweat, and utterly exhausted.. and this is all while sitting down!!!
meanwhile, the little ladies to my right were chatting away, having a jolly good time.. phahaha!!!
anyways.. 2 weeks pass in a blur of painkillers, super sweet nurses, physical therapy and hospital food, and it's time to go home.. but on the day of travel, i've developed a fever, and they won't let me leave, just incase there's an infection on it's way... so i am stuck in Umea yet another day.. and that one extra day never wanted to end, while you're just sitting around waiting to go home..
so.. next day, i still have a bit of temp, but not high enough to keep me there, and a taxi is ordered for me and another woman who's travelling to Pitea.. i was looking forward to a 4 hr ride, in a comfy car, suitably doped up on my meds, but.. noooo.. the taxi driver was maaaaaadly in love with his car.. and talked abt this car, and all the functions, and the gas mileage, and driving tips and tricks and what-not, for 4 hours straight.. while i was propped up against the door, drooling on myself.. :)
but.. i made it home to dads, and then pretty much passed out, again..
4 weeks in my home town, then down to Crete for another 2 months of relaxation and healing (i've never in my life been so tanned before..) and then back to London in August for work.
and.. now it's 2 days before Christmas, and i am leaving for Sweden in a couple of hours for the holidays, and mrB is meeting me up there.
oh.. big news - that we just went 'public' with.. We're having a little girl, in May.. almost on the year anniversary of the surgery, and almost on mrB's b-day..
so.. i am gonna try to update this blog a bit more often from now on, but.. it might be a bit more baby-directed..
(that pic was at 12 weeks, we're now just abt 21 weeks, and the little girl is super active, kicking up a storm, and making her mom VERY tired.. but happy and super excited!!)
