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| It has been a year this week since my "open-heart" surgery. A year ago I was feeling horrible. A year ago I was questioning my decision to even have the surgery. A year ago I wasn't sure I would ever be okay. I has been an amazing year. I feel as close to normal as ever and am slowly building my stamina. Back at the pool for water aerobics and able to climb the stairs at work without huffing and puffing even a little. Woohoo! Because of my extended medical leave, some things had to change at work so you might say my heart surgery caused some great changes to my job. My old job was mainly data maintenance and customer service along with a little curriculum writing and web maintenance. Not all of it was interesting and challenging. To say the least there was a lot of very tedious data entry. Boring! While I was out sick someone had to take over my duties, so some changes were made in our department. A new data/registration specialist was hired. She is great and does a great job. I have an awesome boss. Her vision for the department included some heavy-duty curriculum writing and creating web resources. I always loved that small piece of my job, but I never had enough time. My boss allowed me to decide what I wanted to do when I got back so I jumped at the chance to make the change. I love it. I am creating volunteer resources, updating our pages of the web site and challenging myself with new applications. Girl Scouts is celebrating 100 years in 2012 and we are all gearing up for The Year of the Girl. Big celebrations are planned including 20,000 people celebrating on May 5th at the Pleasanton Fairgrounds and a big international camporee for older girls in July. What a great year for new beginnings and renewed energy. Can't wait! What a difference a year makes, huh? | | |
| What is normal? Good question, don't you think? Normal is very subjective. It is different for everyone and it is different depending on circumstances for everyone. Since my surgery and the long and eventful recovery process I have had to reassess what is normal. For me, normal has turned into very tangible things. And it has turned into a very important part of my recovery.
Walking on the treadmill for as long as I want without falling down exhausted is now normal. Planning more than one activity in a day because I can actually do more than one activity in a day is now normal. Planning to go back to work and actually looking forward to it is now normal. Looking forward to a trip to Hawaii for my niece's wedding is now normal. Planning and shopping for meals is now normal. Taking care of the house and keeping things neat and clean is now normal.
There for awhile I was not sure "normal" would ever happen for me again. Big news don't you think? Whew! | | |
| I am doing so well. I can't tell you how good it feels to be able to breath without gasping for air and to sleep without coughing to exhaustion first. Yes, indeed that last lung tap seems to have made all the difference in the world. I have a very good friend who is a retired RN. She was telling me that when the lung issue started I essentially "fell off the recovery scale". Every surgery has what they call a recovery scale or grid. At certain benchmarks the patient should be doing certain things along that scale. It is all a matter of progress and steps. There are, of course, differences depending on the patient but in general that scale/grid is what is followed. So, I guess I fell off back at about week five. Drat! I didn't realize I was supposed to hang on to something somewhere. It has been a long tiring and arduous trip back to the grid, but I am back.
It has been a week since the last lung tap and I am able to actually function like an almost normal person. No gasping for air. No coughing. Energy enough to do something more than just walk to and from the bathroom. Yesterday, in fact, I drove myself to to a doctor appointment. That was my first time behind the wheel since November. It was a bit weird, actually. My neighbor even commented and smiled as I drove out of the driveway. Today I am doing some light housework (emptying the dishwasher, straightening up and general putsing) I plan to cook dinner tonight, too. Small things I know. Big for me. A bit of normal in what has been a far from normal existence for far too long.
Now that I'm "back on the recovery scale" I plan to stay. Progress forward only, thank you very much. | | |
| What does it tell you when you arrive at a cardiac clinic the size and scope of Stanford University Medical Center and you don't have to tell anyone who you are? That is what happened today when I went in for yet another plural sac tap.
Yes, my symptoms returned yesterday and by this morning I was huffing and puffing and coughing almost as badly as I was before. So another call to the doctor and another trip to the clinic at Stanford. As we checked in the receptionist greeted me with, "Hello Sandy. So sorry to see you are back for another tap. Come right this way, Sophia and Doug are waiting for you." I think maybe we have been here too often. What do you think?
So another liter of fluid later I am through with another agonizing procedure. The pain and discomfort of this procedure is hard to describe. To get to the fluid in the lung, they have to insert a needle into your back between two ribs. while you are sitting up leaning over a pillow I might add. As the needle goes i Doug is also shooting Novocain in to help dull the needle pain. Helpful but not nearly enough as far as I'm concerned. Once he reaches the fluid he inserts a tube and vacuum pump and removes the needle. Now comes the weird sensations. As the tube is jiggled and shifted around I get this very odd electrical jolt in my shoulder that seems to surge in and out as the tube is moved. Quite painful and not at all fun. Doug tells me this is because the tube is touching the diaphragm and that in turn is attached via the nerves to the shoulder. Whoda thunk, huh? It actually continues to hurt even after the procedure is over.
As the tap nears the end, meaning no more fluid, the lung naturally wants to inflate and take up the space where the fluid was and it has these very clever ways to do that. One is to make you cough. Cough hard actually. Trouble is there is not enough air in the lung to let you cough, so it feels like you are suffocating in dry cotton. Quite alarming so as you begin to feel this you start to panic and thus gasp. Not a good combination. It only takes a few minutes for all to calm down but it is very disturbing. Finally time for a follow-up chest x-ray, a final check and off to home again. As the Novocain wears off the pain is quite intense. Thank you Vicodin.
According to Doug and Sophia this last tap should be indeed the last. I am on steroids and diuretics and that combination should be enough to keep the fluid from building up again. The key is to reduce the inflammation in the plural sac so it will stop making extra fluid. That is what the steroids will do. If there happens to be any accumulation the diuretics will make that go away.
Fingers crossed. | | |
| It has been about 8 weeks since my open heart surgery. By now I should be able to walk 30 - 45 minutes a day and I have permission to drive. Life should be almost normal. My recovery should be progressing.
Notice I said "should". Let me explain...About four weeks ago I developed a pesky dry cough that made it almost impossible to get any rest. I couldn't lie on my back (the only position I was allowed to sleep in because of the surgery) without breaking into a coughing fit that felt like I was trying to cough up part of a lung. Any exertion and I was unable to catch my breath. I went to my regular internist about a week ago and she prescribed a cough suppressant and antibiotics just to be safe I wasn't getting pneumonia. One week later and I wasn't any better. Still couldn't sleep, coughed all the time, and generally getting worse. It felt like there was something in my left lung that needed to come up but I was not able to do anything to make it come up. So another trip to the doctor and a chest x-ray. The x-ray revealed a very large amount of fluid sitting in the sac surrounding my left lung.
So this day went from an early routine dr. appointment in Menlo Park to a trip to Stanford Hospital for a "tap". I had no idea what a "tap" entailed so I was a bit nervous. When I arrived I was shown into a regular exam room that had all sorts of hospital-like stuff on the table. The nurse coordinator took my vitals and she took a look at the x-rays while we waited for the doctor to arrive. As soon as he arrived we got started. I was told to sit on the exam couch and lean forward over a rolling tray with a pillow on it. Yes I was going to sit up for this procedure. Turns out the easiest access to your lungs is actually from your back. With the help of some local skin numbing medicine a needle was inserted into the lower part of my left lung. A tube was then inserted with the other end attached to a 1 liter bottle. At this point I want to add that this was quite painful. I found it hard to relax and breathe normally. The nurse was great with her calm praise and gentle touch. The whole procedure seemed to last forever. Dick tells me it was only about 20 - 30 minutes. The "tap" filled up one of the bottles and they started on the second one. The fluid was brownish in color and was the consistency of water so it just seemed to drip out of my chest on its own. Strange experience. At about the time the second bottle was about 3/4 full the flow stopped. Good thing, too. I was starting to have a lot more pain and couldn't catch my breath at all. Scary actually.
We were finished. Whew! The best part of this procedure was the instant relief from the cough. I was amazed. One more wheelchair ride down for another x-ray and we were good to go. They were able to drain over 90% of the fluid. According to the doctor fluid build-up will probably not happen again. The cause was definitley related to the original surgery. He figured they may have removed the chest tube a bit early. I can't tell you how wonderful it is that I can actually sit back in a chair and not cough. I can carry on a conversation without having to stop to cough. I am looking forward to a good night's sleep. I am also looking forward to getting back to my recovery. I have lots to do and I need to get my stamina back.
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