As always, writing is like a therapy for me; but I really haven't known where to even start. I've felt the need to write out my experience over the past fortnight to get it out of me, to have lived it outside of the dark places in my mind & let it go. But I haven't been able to actually do it. Jake, my Husband, biggest supporter & editor told me to "Start at the beginning, continue with the middle & finish with the end." That makes sense, so lets do it.
Two weeks ago today I had open heart surgery. Despite sitting here with a kick-arse zipper down the middle of my chest & the inability to lift anything other than a carton of milk, I still haven't processed that. Not properly anyway.
I spent the day prior to surgery pretty much at the hospital, having been driven in by my big sister Brandi (thanks Bran!). It was a full day once we got there - blood tests, x-ray, echo-cardiogram, respiratory tests & meeting something in the vicinity of half a dozen staff - doctors, nurses, physios and an anesthetist. I didn't have much time to think which was a blessing. It wasn't until I was finally alone in my bed on the ward that things started to get a little not okay for me. Jake & Charli came up to see me which I was incredibly thankful for. They couldn't stay for long but it chewed through some time & of course they were the two people in the world I wanted to see at that point. Saying goodbye was unbelievably hard, I had to try not to be unreasonable & ask Jake to stay, especially when Charli asked why I wasn't coming home. I told her that I was feeling a bit sick & the doctors were going to make me all better; that this was my special room & I just had to stay here for a few days while the doctors gave me medicine. She thought about that for a minute before she accepted it & said farewell with her usual flare; royal wave, a hug & kiss combo to leave The Rock winded & "Goodbye, I love you, see you soon" that I'm sure everyone on the ward heard as she sauntered out of the room in her Panda Bear PJ's & Cherry shoes. Alone again, knowing no one else was coming & what lay before me, I found it hard to settle down. I still had all manner of staff streaming in, which broke up the horrible feelings & thoughts but came to an end all too swiftly. The walls began to close in fast & I just about harassed my nurse for a relaxant. I was pretty sure I was going to slip quietly from my room & disappear, never to be heard from by the hospital again, happy to live out the rest of my life physically inadequate & eventually be taken by the defect. At that point it seemed like the best option. Eventually, I was given a relaxant which sent me into a long heavy sleep quicker than I'd even hoped.
Staying in hospital for any length of time is never a nice experience. Waking up to the reality you are about to go through a major surgery which involves being cut down the chest (14.5 centimeters to be exact), sternum cracked apart, put on a lung & heart bypass machine while both lungs are collapsed & the heart removed to open for patching. Then everything gets put back together. Piece of piss.
The nurses came in & bustled me about, I went through the motions in what was a daze, I felt almost out of my body as I showered with special pre-op soap, gowned up, packed up my stuff & was lead to the theater waiting room. I will be forever grateful to two very special men that morning. A student nurse I unfortunately never got the name of, who seen me across the room - I must have looked as though I was about to burst into sobs by this point & he came to my rescue, holding my hand & chatting about anything else but my condition or the surgery. I barely remember the conversation, just being so thankful to have a small distraction, but enough of one to stop my head spinning quite so much. Then suddenly my bed was moving & a man named Steven was cheerfully telling me that he was part of the anesthetists team & would be helping me go off to sleep. At this point it's my last chance to leg it & that thought must have showed on my face because Steven had a tight grip on my arm, hand, or leg at any given moment as he chatted away, like we were new mates that just met at a bar. A few times he stopped to stroke my hair & tell me I was alright & that he would look after me. We're in the operating room by this time & I am openly crying my eyes out. Nice going Steve, mate, but you need to knock me out & you need to do it now. Before he finally did, I asked him to make sure I woke up again. He squeezed my hand & promised. Having been hooked up to multiple things during Steve's distracting, the world finally faded away & I was blissfully unaware.
