If you’ve
been following my heart journey you’ll know my procedure this past Tuesday was
a big one. Not only was it an unexpected hiccup between the long list of initial
tests I had to undergo to determine what would be done about my condition & surgery; it
was a little invasive for my liking.
Last
Thursday I went in to my pre-admission appointment for this particular
procedure where I was seen by multiple medical professionals. I went on profusely
about my multiple allergies, my anxiety issues & my NEED for sedation
throughout this procedure (She assured me I would be sedated for one of the
procedures). I also went as far as to tell the Doctor (who looked all of 15)
that I didn’t give a rats ass what the procedure entailed, the less I knew the
better for me mentally. Apparently that was not an option – I could not sign
the consent form without being taken through the ins & outs of the
procedure, as well as the long list of risks that came with it. No signature,
no procedure. So I allowed her to tell me all about it, about the risks
involved & about what the outcome of the testing would mean for me. I left
the hospital that day dry-retching and in tears.
Hearing
about the catheter being inserted into my groin that would go up into the heart
& then into the lungs was enough to make me blanch; and then there was the
second consent form for that procedure if there were issues going through my
groin, they would then go through my jugular… Also, a surprise second procedure
was the angiogram. Basically the same thing but the catheter would be inserted
in my wrist. I was unaware up to that moment that I would be having both done.
So while I proceeded to start sweating bullets over that, she then went over
the risks. Small percentage risks that were super unlikely but made me want to
shove those consent forms in the lovely little doctor’s pie hole. Trying to
focus on the end goal & the fact that I needed to do all of this to get to
surgery, not only to stop myself from basically dying faster than most, but
improve my quality of life overall, I asked the natural question – would I know
a surgery date long after that? I appreciate that doctors are factual &
that it’s the nurses who do the bedside manner thing but she smiled so brightly
as she said; “Depending on the results of these procedures we may have to
medicate you, do other operations or procedures or you may not be deemed safe
enough to do the surgery at all. Do you have any other questions for me today?”
I made my escape from that office as fast as I could & hyperventilated in
my car for a while before setting off home. Out of all of it, the icky procedure
details, the scary risks no matter how small; it was the “…may not be deemed
safe enough to do the surgery at all...” that echoed through my mind. Surely
they would have a plan B. They couldn’t just let me slowly die, becoming more &
more susceptible to strokes, heart failure and various other things as time
went by & the damage increased. Surely.
So the weekend
went by, slow as you like. I tried to enjoy the Easter break with Jake &
Charli. I did, of course but the thoughts of procedures, risks, outcomes were always
lurking not far from the surface of my mind.
Tuesday
came, I dropped Charli at day-care, she was stoked for a second breakfast &
said her goodbye happily, which was awesome. She has been cluing onto a lot of
this stressful medical talk over the past 4 months & it has impacted her a
fair bit on & off. My sister was due to pick me up & drop me to the
hospital but there was a couple of hours to kill, I busied myself with
housework & was surprisingly calm, although the anxiety was hovering at my
back. The car ride was much the same, even arriving at the hospital, checking
in & sitting in the waiting room only increased my nerves the slightest
bit. I’m thankful my sister stayed with me until the nurse called me in. I said a cheery goodbye. It wasn’t until
then, until I was walking down cold blank hallways to a clinic room that the anxiety
started to dig in its claws & settle in every part of me. Knowing it was time
to get prepped for the procedure, knowing exactly what that procedure was, it
was all I could think about. I tried to concentrate on one thing at a time. The
nurse, Denise handed me one of those delightful hospital gowns that do up at
the back & also a hospital robe to cover what would have been let exposed.
She told me to strip down & put them on. I said “just leave my undies on?”
She chuckled. “No undies for you today except these pretty paper ones,
sweetheart” as she whipped them out of a packet with a flourish. “Don’t put
them on just yet though.”
I was in
jeans & a few layers (I knew the hospital would be cold) so it took me a
bit to undress & fold everything into my overnight bag. Denise was obviously under the impression I
would be done & threw back the curtain in time to get a good look at every
inch of my neglected-arse Mum bod. She
didn’t seem to mind quite as much as I did & told me to lay on the bed as
soon as I was in my gowns. I did so. Then, like something out of a horror/comedy
film she whipped up an electric razor out of nowhere as she said “Well, let’s
see what’s down there” I’m not sure whether I was more mortified or amused.
After this somewhat traumatic ordeal, the anxiety increased as I put on my
delightful paper undies & sat at the table with her to “go over a few
things”
I immediately
let fly with “I know what I’m here for, why I’m having it done, I’m all good with
that, I’m just feeling pretty anxious”
“I can see
that, honey” as she flips to the medication section of my chart “they’ve
written you up Temazepam, we’ll get that for you in the next room – whoa!” She’d
reached the allergy section of that particular page… “so what DO we give you
for nausea, honey?”
“Only
Ondansetron”
“Okay, that’s
all in order, let’s get you all ready!”
Denise needed
to calm down with her enthusiasm.
Into the
next room we went. I put everything except my book & phone into a locker,
done a pee test & waited what seemed like an eternity for Denise to get me
my drugs. She instead started with my cannula, not the worst I’ve had but
certainly no picnic, especially when sweet Denise turned into murder nurse for
a moment there & brutally shoved the cannula in & out of my skin so I
was almost barfing. She had put a cannula I’d never seen before in my arm – it had
two inlets instead of one. I enquired as to why, she patted my arm & said “It’s
just standard for this department”
Well fuck
Denise, if I didn’t need my Temazepam before I certainly did now after your
jiggling about & sorrowful look. “Can I have my relaxant now?”
After taking
the relaxant & some Asprin to thin my blood for the procedure, I was still
shitting bricks. I couldn’t read, I was too worked up. I scrolled social media
aimlessly & annoyed friends on messenger with menial chatter.
Then old
mate Roger in the beds over yonder, stops breathing. The nurses flock, they are
yelling at him to “Take a big breath in for us, Roger!” & all I can hear is
horrible gurgling. Thankfully after some time, Roger came good, the nurses
resumed their other tasks. I was so glad that Roger was fine now, for Rogers’s
sake… but I did sink a little further into my recliner as the panic began to
rise. Between then & the next person I had to see, I resumed talking to friends,
who made silly crass jokes & took my away from the cold waiting area, the
itchy hospital clothes & the thoughts of what was to come. Suddenly a nurse
was there asking to have a chat. I turned my phone off then, thinking this was
it. Time to go in. Apparently not. She just wanted to clarify a heap of things.
She left & I thought it would surely be soon. Another 2 hours passed in
which I read & talked to other patients, the temazepam doing its job but
wearing off slowly. I knew it was reaching the end of its effects when I became
to restless to keep reading. Thankfully this was about the time the nurse came
out to tell me I was going in next & asked me some questions. The doctor
then came out to join us & asked pretty much the same stuff “Do you know
what we are doing today & why we are doing it?” “Yep”
“Do you have
any other questions or concerns?”
“I’m fine as
long as you sedate me, I’d prefer to be sedated for both”
He looked at
me “We aren’t sedating you for either -
it’s unnecessary. You will be fine.”
My face must
have said “Um, WHAT?” quickly followed by “NOPE” because the student nurse them
came sat with me until I was taken in – at which point I am crying and hyperventilating.
The doctor did not give two shits. “Make her comfortable” was all he said to
his staff.
Nurse 1: “Calm
down love, the procedure will go much better if you’re calm & not hyperventilating
on our table” She chuckled.
Nurse 2:
Taping my hand to the table at an odd angle “Just taping your hand here because
we need your wrist a certain way to get in there. You’re okay sweetheart, it’ll
be over before you know it.” She continues to talk my through putting dye on my
skin, explaining what the cold feeling is. The radiographer is then stroking my
head getting me to look at him. “I’m Dean & I’m going to look after you
okay, lovely?” Obviously they gave me something to calm me down but I was wide
awake as I watched the x-ray of what was happening in my body. I told myself
the more calm & still I was the better. It was hard to miss the monitor –
it was bigger than our 55” Sony at home & it was riiight next to my head.
So I watched. I felt no pain just weird little tugs here & there.
Suddenly it
was over, as quick as it had begun & I was in a recovery bed where I was
under strict instructions not to move my legs or the arm which they had used
for entry. Denise returned, explained that she would remove the tube from my
groin & would then have to keep pressure on for a while. She removed the
catheter without pain & proceeded to apply pressure to the area &
initiate awkward chit-chat. We remained this way for 15 minutes… I was wearing
a bracelet of sorts acting as pressure to the entry site on my wrist, Denise
would release some air from this every once in a while. They were adamant I
stay lying & still for 3 hours but were happy enough for me to go home that
day. I called Jake & let him know he could come get me at 7:15pm. I was
given a sandwich & sat up barely enough to eat it. I managed between naps
& inspections to my groin & wrist by Denise. There was a changeover of
nurses, the wardies said hi on their way in & out. Nurses of the other
patients also checked in. There was a large volume of traffic at the foot of my
bed so I wasn’t surprised by another face popping up. He introduced himself
& asked how I was doing – I immediately forgot his name because, well,
there were simply too many people here to remember them all. I told him I felt
fine, just looking forward to sitting up properly. He then spilled the news
that he was my surgeon & took no time diving into specifics about exactly
that. It was a blur. He talked about the fact that not having the surgery
ultimately meant dying because of the damage my heart would sustain & once
the damage was past a point there would be nothing they could do. Without
prompting & much to my horror he then explained some intricacies of the
surgery to me.
“We will
open you up, put you on a bypass machine while we patch the hole in your heart.
The patch will be made from the tissue of a cows heart. Then we will close you
back up & you will recover”
“Yep, cool”
“Can I have
a look at your chest?”
Why not
mate? Go for it. He pulls down my gown & proceeds to put pressure on the
top & bottom of my sternum. “You will be cut from here to here.”
“Yep, cool”
“Any other questions
or concerns?”
“What will
the time frame be on the surgery – when will I know the date?”
“Do you need
to discuss any more of the surgery details with me or you are happy with the
information you have to go ahead”
“I am keen
to get this done”
“Great, my
team will contact you with a date. It may be the week of or a couple of weeks
out but it will be absolutely done within the next 4 weeks”
“That sounds
good. Thank you”
“Excellent.
Keep well, I will see you soon”
He leaves. I
spent the next little while checking out my sternum & thinking about the
joy my siblings will get knowing my heart will literally have a piece of cow in
it…
I finally
got out of bed. Slowly. The “pain” in my wrist & groin was more discomfort
but it made getting dressed in a tiny change room a bit of a shit show. I
managed & headed out to sit in a recliner to await Jake’s arrival. One of
the nurses came to talk me through post-procedure care. I was feeling not flash
but that was to be expected. She started explaining what to do if any of the
sites started bleeding. I felt more crook as she went on. I told her I was
quite prone to anxiety & asked if I could take a relaxant. That was
absolutely fine. She continued on about how if the groin bled to apply pressure
for 10 minutes & seek a GP or ER if it didn’t stop. They only went through
a vein there so it would only dribble blood. It was here I told her I felt a
little more crook & asked for a sick bag, which she got.
She then
proceeded to tell me about my wrist. The wrist was an artery & would in fact
spray bursts of blood with my heart beat. I needed to cover it with pressure immediately
& call an ambulance if it didn’t stop.
It was here
that I told her I felt worse & promptly fainted. I came to with 4 nurses
sitting around my chair, a wet washer on my forehead, my feet up & on top of a
pillow, a nurse stroking my hair & another putting my on an obs machine. My
blood pressure & heart rate were through the floor but began to climb as
time went on. On nurse sprayed some peppermint oil under my nose which worked
wonders for clearing my head. Jake arrived & Charli was wide awake, her
little face a mask of horror at the scene before her. I put on my best show –
explaining that I had felt a bit sick but the nurses made me all better & I
was okay now. I smiled & laughed & tried my very hardest not to bring
up my sandwich from earlier. She was fine as soon as the nurses starting
talking to her & she had to act shy…
The nurse
that had been trying to explain post-procedure care to me took Jake away &
gave him the run down. They believed that a big day with minimal liquid intake
along with a sudden bought of anxiety was what made me faint & once my obs
were sitting steady they were happy to let me go; over an hour later than I
should have but at least I felt better.
The rest of
the night was a blur of anxiety & feeling simply icky. Jake asked if I
would like a relaxant & I said no – I was paranoid one of me sites would open
overnight & I wouldn’t notice from the drugs. I slept anyway, my body
simply exhausted. Knowing how upset & paranoid I was Jake set an alarm
& check both my groin & wrist every couple of hours. What a bloke.
It’s now
Thursday night, over 48 hours later & with a reduced waiting time for
surgery that could be sprung on me at any moment, mixed with still feeling icky
around both my groin & wrist, I’m feeling pretty shabby. The anxiety has
become less of a thing that crops up & more of a consistent, nagging,
debilitating leech that I cannot seem to shake. I’ve done nothing but sleep,
eat & take relaxants for the past 2 days & I hope these are just the
after effects of an information overload & crappy hospital experience.
Thanks so
much to everyone who chatted to me on Tuesday; I’ve had people tell me it was
only an angiogram or only a cardiac catheter but it was my first time having
tubes shoved into my heart & lungs & it wasn’t so fun to watch. I’m
hopeful it’ll be the first and last. That is, after a very keen little Indian
man busts open my chest & fiddles with my heart.
And so the
surgery countdown truly begins
