I will get into this later, but since I am now just in the process of beginning my next post (complete with my own style of Art work); I decided to stop and interject this little post into the mix.
If one were to go back and read one of my very first posts (from Jan 7th, originally written on 10/7/11 on my CarePage then moved here to this blog), what you would read were these words:
"In fact, all I do know for sure is that just prior to the surgery I will not be able to eat or drink for about 12 hrs, they'll stick me with an IV port, then I'll drink their KoolAid and go to sleep.
The surgeons are the masters at what they do, and it is my job to make sure my body does as its told and that mentally, all I have to do is sleep the day away.
And when I wake? jello . And my life begins again... and they'll probably have me up walking the next day, especially if they put the coffee at the other end of the room."
So true, only I never had any KoolAid as a knock out drug. They lightly doped me up in pre-op when they took my clothes away from me and gave me the most unbelievable hospital underwear that appear to be crocheted from a single stretchable thread, for those women like me that are a bit modest because we are 'sneeze-pee-ers' (unfortunately, they disappeared during surgery), but know that they have no front or back or size for that matter, the weave just separates as one pulls them on!
The weave is not this evenly spaced, nor is it as "pretty." It's actually more like the above image.
Anyway, when I post about the actual surgery I will get into the happenings, but let me tell you, that I did eat dinner that evening, and dinner consisted of what I have now named Five Day Chicken Noodle soup, coffee and J-E-L-L-O !!! Yes!!!! Strawberry jello; brand, too, with a little foil pull top!
I predicted that Jello was what I'd eat and I did, and all was well for me. Oh, and I had my coffee, too!
It was a Kismet moment for me, because the Jello had hit the spot. I think I ordered Jello or custard each and every meal, however, what I found out was that only the very first Jello was the Jello brand, with the little pull top, the rest of my jello's were all made in the kitchen and served in little fluted cups. And sadly I have to admit, that every single one tasted exactly the same as though they make a big vat of jello and then color it with different shades to appear to be different flavors.
Oh well, I ordered them anyway. But the first one that brought me back to Earth and told me that I was home again, was my Jello Brand Strawberry Jello cup!
I am now making mental notes to myself as the timer clicks downward, second by second, toward Day One. It is now Friday, March 23rd, 2012, and day one is 3 days and about 6 hrs away. And that means in 4 days I will be awake and eating jello! And, I'll be on morphine, too. Oh Boy!
So I am watching time dissolve before my eyes, thinking about all the things I need to get done, and all the things I still need to do. Then I have to figure out what I will take with me to Seattle. In my mind I picture a Hollywood Diva, my hubby coming into the room and saying “Are you ready? Where are your bags?” and then me, the Diva, casually thumbing over my shoulder to my baggage, as I click my way down the hall on my stilettos, pulling my pashmina up over my shoulders as I go. Hubby looks behind me and what does he see? 2 steamer trunks, 14 little suitcases, 2 overnight bags, and 2 overstuffed tote bags; one of which carries a loaf of bread; a baguette, leaning up against a couple of fashion magazines, and a big straw hat.
In the past week, I have hemmed and hawed, getting frustrated at times because I have wanted to prepare for this, and yet in many cases have been unable to do so because of timelines and deadlines that haven’t yet happened. Then a snowstorm got in the way of all of my personal plans and the week kind of went out the window. One thing that has pestered me completely is bill paying. I want nothing more than to have all of our bills paid before we leave, in the same fashion that I do for Holidays:
Once everything has been paid, then I get to sit back and relax and have fun. But if one single bill has not yet been paid, it will gnaw at me like a puncture wound does, or like a piece of fingernail skin that has been partially torn off leaving a little nub that cannot be reached by the teeth, resulting in pain every single time it is brushed up against.
I have no issue paying the bills, but today with online paying, some of the bills will not even allow access to an account until there is a bill to be paid. Is this a form of cruelty that some corporations use to drive anal retentive folks like me crazy? Is this an inane form of punishment for wanting to pay bills early? Is this the reverse side of the cruelty that they impose on those that pay late? Sometimes I think that they are just financial sadists, applying retribution to anyone who would dare to step outside their boundaries.
Ok, so I have every bill paid except for the two that refuse to allow a person to prepay. Both are utility bills. And then there’s the bill for “One” of our major credit cards who shall go nameless. Ahem. That “One” actually will accept any amount between their specified cut-off dates, no problem with that. At one time they were exposed for their game of shrinking transit times in regard to due dates vs. late fees thereby giving their patrons less than a week to pay their bills, once they are actually received in the mail (which brings them vast sums of late fee monies, from otherwise on time bill payers). Laws were made to stop that. They now accept any payment, but if a payer is ahead of their cut-off date, a new bill is still generated with the same amount due and with original due date anyway. So even if a person pays early; if it is even one hour before their computer cuts off the statement, they will still end up right where they were before they ever paid that bill early, and the result will be a double payment for the preceding month. And if the next payment goes one minute after their due date those huge late fees are then added to their balance and their account receives a “hash mark;” call it a an electronic whipping lash on their back for the punishment of stepping outside the lines drawn. So I am waiting for 3 dates to arrive in order to quell my brain and finally relax before surgery. One of the dates is the day before surgery, while we are in Seattle.
Now one of the things I am trying to avoid is using any passwords in a Wi-Fi area that is not my own (and self created) password protected zone. I would like to be surfing sites that do not used any specific passwords and things like that, when I am in the hotel room or at the hospital, because it never seems to fail that when my friends are out of town, that is when they get hacked. So I am not all that comfortable with the accessing of bank accounts and credit cards while I am away from home. Let’s just be safe rather than sorry afterward. I can change my Facebook password if necessary, and my shops passwords, even though the shops have now been put in vacation status. So what’s left My Pinterest account? LOL
My daughter’s schedule has now been changed so that she can go to her program for 5 days per week rather than her regular 3 days per week, and her bus schedule has been adapted to match her new program schedule. Her caregiver is coming over tomorrow to go over the things that are necessary to be maintained while we are gone, which means life with our daughter, and the cat (whom our daughter will tend as a ‘job’ by measuring kibble into her bowl twice daily).
I have an ongoing list here on the computer that I will not print until the last moment, since I keep remembering things that will need to be done. Each time I add sometime I silently vow to increase her pay, which should indicate just how wonderful I feel she is, for coming to live at our house while we are gone. I have a belief that one never scrimps on a caregiver or a server because a person wants them to want to come back again in the future.
So my list keeps getting one new thing added at a time. Almost everything added at this point are just reminders of where things are located in the house and the way certain things are handled, most of which are meant to appear seamless to our daughter’s daily groove.
Tomorrow, I will remove the mail box key from my key ring, for our caregiver, and place it next to the medical insurance card on the sink. An envelope of cash will be added to that, since one never knows what may come up while we’re gone. Luckily, we will be a cell phone call away when the things I have missed, come up. And that reminds me to add to my list: My cell phone recharger and my laptop’s wire harness.
Next up are my clothes. What to take? Do they have hospital gowns? I am assuming they will want access to both sides, and each end of me.
I haven’t forgotten my earlier image of walking out into the nursing area in my open-backed gown while towing my little wagon of tubes, wires, hanging bottles, and gauges at 4AM in search of espresso, or anything but decaf.
So I imagine I will not need any nightgown, which in my case happens to be my hubby’s giant T Shirts, with my socks hanging at my ankles. Do I take slippers? Hubby just told me yesterday that he bought me a pair of “softy socks” with rubber soles! Yay!!! I can walk on electric wires now! And I can also stop myself if I start to snow ski or ice skate on the super shiny and clean hospital floors when I am wandering around looking for caffeine fix... If they work well he’ll buy me another pair too! He always thinks of things like this, things I never would have remembered to get for myself. This is why we make such a great team together, we actually complete each other!
So I figure I will need actual clothing for only a short amount of time. Travel clothing up to Seattle, and for one day of testing, and clothing for the homebound trip. In addition to that I may need clothing for a dinner that first (or last) night in Seattle before the surgery. In other words a black turtleneck and jeans should cover everything I have just mentioned about driving up to Seattle and the time before surgery.
After I am released (if I am released early) we may stay until the 2 week period of hotel reservation is completed so I may need some clothing for that too, even if it is just pajamas. An extra “hubby t-shirt” and of course, all of the side clothing accoutrement; the socks and underwear will have to be packed. Bras will not be tolerated after surgery, and are barely tolerated now, so I will wear a sport bra, a stretched out, worn out and almost dissolved sport bra that I stole from my daughter, in order to remain supported and yet comfortable.
This is something that I have not gone into here before, but due to the emphysema and COPD, with the expansion of the lungs, the ribcage also expands (thank goodness) to support the enlarged lungs, so all of my Victoria’s Secret pretty bras have become somewhat of a moot point in the past year or so. All of my lacy and pretty “push-up&outs,” have now become the last thing on my mind, giving way to the comfort of older worn and stretched out cotton knit bras from way in the back of the drawer.
Then my hubby had another fantastic idea! Our daughter has her old and worn out sports bras that no longer carry much “sport” in them, and she is one size larger than me, so why not borrow some of her more worn out bras until after surgery? What a great idea! I found 3 of her rather holey and nicely stretched out sports bras and they fit perfectly, so I have finally achieved some relief and they have even afforded me a bit of cleavage! Of course, they will not even be tolerated after surgery.
When I leave the hospital from surgery, I will have either multiple suture lines on each side of my ribcage or one long and bright red suture line down the front, if it ends up necessary so the very last thing I’ll be wearing is a bra of any kind.
All of this bra talk reminds me that after surgery I will also be needing all of my shirts to be open-in-the-front shirts, my undershirts to be my hubbies cast down gray sleeveless tanks that are so loose fitting on me that I have to be careful where the armholes are laying at any given time. They should be perfect under the man-sized button down broadcloth shirts I plan to take on hangers. The hanger will insure that they stay somewhat wrinkle free, but of course, once I touch them, the wrinkle free status will completely disappear.
For some reason wrinkles and I go together like ham and cheese. Even wrinkle-free items wrinkle on me. Oh well. I don’t really think that will change after surgery. If I believed that, perhaps my early 30’s appearance will re-manifest too.
Well, other than that, I guess my personal products like toothbrush and paste and those things have to go too. Should I take hair products and a brush; or should I just let nature takes its course with my wrinkled clothing and all. That’ll look good! OK, I will take my brush, and some rubber bands, bobby pins, and perhaps some Bumble and bumble styling crème, since it makes hair look dirty and more malleable, which in my case means it takes the frizz down.
Head bands won’t cut it, making my hair look like it is on fire directly behind any band I attempt to use to control it. And with the new violet and magenta side panels I now wear on my right side, it might scare the nurses when my hair stands on end after sleeping in it for days on end. Oh yes, I must not forget my video cam and lots of batteries, too!
One of my friends who has had the unfortunate opportunity of numerous hospital stays has reminded me to take my own bath towel, since hospital towels are usually between the size of a washcloth and a gym towel and once in the shower, if the towel supply is a bit thin or cannot accommodate a person one must wait until the nurse appears after a person summons them to the shower for an extra towel. So if I am feeling a bit modest, I might heed her advice and take one of my own bath towels from home. That also stands for a blanket and pillow. The blanket can be a single-person blanket, one that makes a person feel good (I turn and look at my plushie blanket next to me on the sofa…check).
My friend also mentioned that the hospital pillows are usually hard and of course, plastic coated (probably for sleep droolers like me) so I might be happy if I have my own soft pillow, and she even mentioned that she prefers her neck pillow when she has to stay in the hospital. I am taking all of her advice and while I don’t usually have the need for a neck pillow unless I am in a jet, because I am a solid side sleeper, which is something I am told I probably will not be doing after surgery, I might be in good hands if I do listen to her and pack one of my bed pillows, my hubbies neck pillow and my favorite sofa blanket in the back of the car right before we leave.
I wonder if this might be a good time to open our Oregon State College Beaver Snuggie to take with us. I was told that while in Washington’s Husky territory, the only thing worse than a Beaver, is a Duck and worse that a Duck, is the pariah of all time, a Cougar.
So we’ll have to think this one out before we go. I figure that if we lose anything at all; let it be the Beaver Snuggie and not my favorite plushie sofa blanket.
So armed with my laptop and my “Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest" book, I am good to go if they have a remote control in the hospital and the TV isn’t all Hospital “How to” Breast feed your baby, dress your own bandages, and handling you IV ports.
This time we’ll take more snacks, like cheese slices that I will slice from my big block of super sharp cheddar, cuties, cookies, more water, and the almonds I didn’t get to munch on last time due to my swollen tooth, the inability to bite down and the pain that came with it all. Now that we know where we are going we can also stop for food on the way if we want something fast and nasty to eat, which of course, I always love to do when I am on the road.
So, in my angst of not being able to pay all of my bills before leaving for surgery, while waiting for my laundry to go through its processes, to pass time, I have taken it upon myself to open a bottle of Chili Beer and settle into the HBO Series called “The Game of Thrones” in Hi Def, no less…One thing is sure, after watching Game of Thrones, nothing will scare me at the hospital now…
My time for testing was fast approaching, my fears right alongside. I had heard some scary things about the testing and especially the bicycle stress test, and if you have read this blog you will know how I dislike things like this. We had arranged for our daughter’s best friend (and caregiver) to stay with her for the overnight and full day that we would be spending out of state. And away we went in the mid day. As we traveled northward we discussed the fact that it was kind of like when we were escaping for a getaway, just to two of us (something we rarely get to do). Unfortunately, when we do get a chance to get away there has been a reason similar to this getaway, or we just don’t get a window of opportunity large enough, and have to return home too quickly.
So we traveled northward for about 500 miles winding our way through Portland, Oregon’s traffic which was actually not as bad as it could be, but then it was Sunday after all. Even though the commute was nonexistent, there was still traffic, because in Portland, Oregon, there’s always traffic. I think they set it up that way to keep as many tax dollars in the state as possible, since many Portlandians have the tendency to move north of the Columbia River into the state of Washington to avoid the high real estate taxes that we have in this state, since there’s no sales tax.
As we left the state of Oregon behind us, magically the road lanes widened and straightened out, and the ruts and potholes disappeared almost completely and our gas mileage increased exponentially now that we didn’t have to drive as hard just to get around. And something else that was quite fun, was that the mph speed increased to 70, a fact I had not known about. So they’re doing something right in Washington that the State of Oregon hasn’t realized yet. Of course, Oregon does offer coffee at the State owned Highway Rest Areas. Too bad they are unaware that Washington has Seattle’s Best coffee everywhere, always tasting like it has been fresh ground. Imagine stopping to fill up the gas tank and buying a cup of coffee that could easily be Starbucks or rival them in quality. From a gas station on I-5 no less!
As we approached Seattle I marveled at the gorgeous city, and the tall beautiful buildings. The Sun just happened to burn through fog to shine on the metro district, and the gulls came out and sailed on thermals in and out between the sunlit high rises! A beautiful sight to see, I must say. Even though there were folks living underneath almost every single elevated freeway lane and overpass, the town actually shone bright.
We reached our convenience suite, easily found parking right in front and went upstairs (yes, I climbed 2 sets of stairs with 7 steps each, shock of all shocks), and soon opened the door to our conventional room. Even though it was not over fantastic, our room was very livable and functional with a large screen TV with cable programming, which was nice. Our view was of the parking garage next door, but it was Sunday so it as devoid of vehicles and peepers.
The only caveat we ran into was a toothache that developed in my mouth. It had started on the Friday prior to leaving; starting just as a gum that might have been scratched by an errant tortilla chip as it passed through, but once it didn’t heal and go away, it blossomed into a regular pain in the butt, and by the time we reached Seattle, I had a situation that I describe as a little raft floating on a pool of lava in my mouth.
Upon waking, we only had enough time to get our things together and arrive at the hospital around 8 in the morning. I wasn’t allowed to take my meds or drink my morning coffee, and if anything was to be eaten, it had to be light. So we just didn’t eat. Danny, did get his coffee after settling me into my wheel chair equipped with an air tank at the valet parking. It was when he was wheeling me into the hospital that he told me the story about the time he was wheeling his Dad in a wheel chair at the Dodger Stadium in LA and how he left him and went to get something, but didn’t put the brake on and his dad started rolling away! I laughed when he told me, but when he went to get his coffee I still double checked to see if he had set the brake……..
First stop, radiology! Danny parked my chair facing the wall and I said something like Hey, while I was hearing the guy chuckling next to us, and Danny said “you’re lucky we’re not at Dodger Stadium!” And that started us on a day of discussion about wheel chair protocol, since we had just alighted from the elevator where Danny had wheeled me directly in, which just so happened to leave me facing backward. It was then that I had a memory of seeing nurses pushing wheel chairs turn the chair around and pull it backwards into the elevator to keep the patient facing outward. This wheel chair protocol we aptly name “Wheel Chair Etiquette” from then on.
When they took me back to my VQ scan or Pulmonary Perfusion test they injected me with radioactive isotopes and put me in a scanner and CT scanner combination machine. They told me I was their first person to use the new camera set up. It was quite a magnaminous set up and I saw from the corner of my vision images similar to the lungs in the last post. This machine below is very similar to the one I was in, only I was on my back, and the boxy arms rotate around the patient taking images from different angles.
At one point they fired up the CT scanner and dipped me in and out a couple of times then the final series, a 360 degree set of images to compile into a 3D image while I lay there unmoving and those arms rotated and stopped every several degrees, shooting images through me. This all took about 70 min, or so, and right before I left they handed me a yellow card asking me to carry it with me for several days for legal and medical explanations, lest I set off any radiation alarms in my travels. Imagine ending up on a No Fly list because I caused the Geiger Counter tickers to tick!
From Radiology, it was off to the Pulmonary Diagnostic Dept for my “Full On” Pulmonary Function exams. First they drew my blood for an arterial blood gas test, and of course I have teeny tiny veins and a vein was pricked instead of the needed arterial line, so I had to be needled again. After that it was back to the dreaded glass box and many, many spirometry tests. I say many, many because they need three tests that are within a certain parameter of each other, and each time mine were so different that it was hard to get three alike. They allow up to 8 tests. And I finally achieved my three on the 8th attempt. Of course that was only one test. If you have ever had a spirometry test, you would know how much they can be disliked especially if you have any breathing issues.
For a Spirometry test, you wear a nose clip and place your mouth around a tube-like funnel and when instructed, take several breaths naturally in a resting phase and then a deep breath and you blow like you have never blown before. And you do not stop blowing until you have every possible bit of air blown out, and then you keep on blowing even after that! In other words the tech sits there ready to catch you if you pass out (and he told me that people occasionally do pass out)… One would think I would have after 8 tests. But I didn’t. Then there were the other tests. For some, I breathed in a resting phases until instructed to very lightly puff in and out ever so lightly while holding my cheeks to ensure that I did not cheek puff and while puffing, and then they shut the air off completely! I would puff like that for a couple of seconds then the tech would instruct me to draw a deep breath and then softly blow out…every bit until I was ready to pass out again, in 3 matching tests, of course after about 5 we got 3. Then there were the tests that had me rest breathing, for several breaths then taking huge breaths in and then out, that’s right again out, out, out, almost pass out. Some tests blew air back into my lungs swelling them up. They also had a test where I was instructed to blow out and inhale, sucking and blowing as hard as I could, over and over and over and over again, with the tech coaching by doing it alongside me. I hope they have brown paper bags for some people after that test. If asked, I would name that test: The Hypervent test, because basically that's what almost happens.
Oh and by the way, every one of these tests are the color producing tests, and by that I mean they make your face change colors through every phase of the color wheel especially through the reds and purples and almost, but not quite blue. I would like to say that green is actually avoided, but yellow and green is what I feel when I think of those tests. Those bloody pulmonary function tests, now that I have completed all my tests, they were actually the worst for me, but I didn’t know that yet, since I was fearing the bicycle test the most.
I was approaching the day with my advance visionary technique, which means looking past what I was doing in order to see the light at the end of the tunnel in this case the end of the day’s testing. I had two more tests to do before that happened. We had a quick lunch break since all of those pulmonary function tests had pretty much dissolved our allotted lunch time.
~*~
The bike test was after lunch, and was initially my dreaded fear. Seeing that bike sitting there caused the blood to drain from my face. I was told that it would take about 30 min on the bike, and that after 8 minutes with no drag (and always keeping the bike at a speed of 65) they would then start to add the drag and I would be going as long as I could until another set amount of time passed. If I had to stop I would be informing them of whether I stopped because my legs gave out or my breath gave out, in other words, which ever happened first.
I never did tell the tech that I have never ridden any longer than 20 min on the recumbent bike at my gym on the lowest possible setting; the setting so low that when my timer is up, the 5 min of rest pedaling does not change at all. And here I was going to have to continue for 30 min on an ever increasing drag? Oh gee. And I would be in an upright position, not a recumbent position? I had visions of vomit, or falling over the handles while passing out. All of this with a full oxygen mask strapped around my head and 35% oxygen being pumped through me, including the pulse oximeter that was glued to my forehead in a head band set-up. I really dreaded this. And when it started there was no way out of it for me.
Actually this is where I have to admit that it really wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Partly it is because I was being pumped full of that 35% oxygen. When I work out at the gym, I am always at 3L/min of air (which is equivalent to about 28% or somewhere around there and lower than the 35%), and when I get short of breath (yes even at 3L) I get hot all over, and go through all the phases of SOB, many times feeling as though I am going to pass out, but I never do; so I endure it all, always watching my timer because my reward comes at the end of it all, when I get to rest. This test did take it all out on me but I was able to keep going far longer than I ever thought I would, and when my tech told me that he now had what he needed and that my time had passed and that I could stop when I was ready I did. I was hot and sweaty, short of breath, but not like I usually am in the gym and that is probably from that 35% Oxygen which I figure was continually reviving me as I was passing out! The tech said I did great!
And then I had one last test; another blood test. Piece of cake! We went into the blood draw area, they sucked a vile of blood and we were off to the surgical center for our consultation! We were done with testing!
At the Surgical center I filled out more paperwork and answered questions about my family history my medical history and things like that. We were taken into the exam room and asked more questions including questions about my toothache which I have pretty much ignored here, so far. But I tell you now, that toothache followed me all day long and interfered with everything in my functioning body, but I wasn’t about to let it get in the way of these tests since my life depended on them; and if I were sent home because of a toothache, I would die right there in Seattle. Of course, now in the exam room everyone seemed to want to know more especially when it was discovered that I had a 99.5 degree fever (which I did not notice at all), and my resting bp was too way high for me, even on my Bp meds that I take every day.
The nurse came in took my vitals and then in came the surgeon, the case manager, and even a pre-op specialist, all of which were quite concerned about my toothache which had emblazed itself into a swollen mass in my jaw. I promised to get it checked as soon as we returned home, even though it appeared to have reached its own threshold and might now be subsiding on its own.
Meet my surgeon! Dr Michael Mulligan
My Surgeon's Story!
My surgeon is AWESOME!!! THIS, is Dr McDreamy: Published Jul 12, 2013, 9:00am This blog updated: July 31, 2016
What it’s like to SAVE A LIFE WITH AN ORGAN TRANSPLANT
Michael Mulligan
Program Director for Lung Transplantation at University of Washington Medical Center
I was driving to work at UW Medical Center on 9/11 when I heard that a
plane hit the first of the Twin Towers. An hour later, my team got an
organ offer out of Alaska. At the time, we had one patient with
cardiomyopathy who needed a heart and one with emphysema who needed new
lungs. The FAA had grounded all civilian aircraft, so we figured we
wouldn’t be able to retrieve the organs. But the medical director of the
hospital came marching into our operating room and told me, “If you
don’t fly up there to get the organs, the terrorists win.” We decided to
go.
I asked my father, a former naval pilot, how best to
navigate the restrictions. Then we flew up to Fairbanks, harvested the
lungs and heart, and started back toward Seattle. We were almost home,
flying over the Space Needle, when we suddenly veered back out toward
the water and headed north. I tried to alert the pilot that we needed to
land immediately, and then I looked out the window and saw two fighter
jets off our wing. It turned out that our flight plan was not correctly
registered with the FAA; we were identified as a civilian aircraft with
no registered flight plan, flying at max velocity toward Seattle on
9/11. The jets had us targeted, and our pilots were on the wrong
frequency.
They finally forced us down in Bellingham. The organs
were in the cooler, and we were on the clock. The patients had already
been prepared for surgery, and it was going to go very badly if we
didn’t get to them fast. Both would have been at an acute risk of death.
We woke up a colonel on Whidbey, and he personally cleared an
air corridor right down to Husky Stadium. They set up a helicopter and
said, “We can take one person and the organs, that’s it.” So I jumped in
with the helicopter pilot and we flew down and landed just outside the
stadium. We were only allowed 60 seconds on the ground, so I quickly
grabbed the coolers from the back of the helicopter, and sat down on the
field as it took off with a torrent of wind. I took a few deep breaths,
and then rushed to the hospital and transplanted the organs. The
surgery was perfect, and both recipients did phenomenally. It was a
matter of not relenting. Eyes on the prize.
****
I was told that I was in the best grouping of candidates, that my exercised state of life had placed me in the category that can get the very best results from the surgery! The surgeon explained different types of surgery and let me know that he expects to be able to go in from the sides with video assist and remove everything that he needs to, without cracking open my chest, splitting the sternum right down the midline. So healing should be significantly faster for me this way! And then we were given a choice of dates for surgery and we chose March 27th three weeks from now. Our choice was a cancellation date that had just occurred for this Friday, March 9th, which would be very handy but we were not ready for it this soon, or the March 27th date, and the third date was out around April 9th. So we did “good.” And we were done for the day and ready for the 5 hr drive homeward.
Good thing too, because the air was icy and Seattle was expecting a surprise snowstorm to blow in that night, so we beat feet to get out of town.
We made it southbound for about an hour and a half until stopping to gas up, get coffee, and to get me a cup full of ice for my toothache.
And I burned through every single ice cube wrapped in a towel all the way home, including when we stopped for our beloved Weinerschnitzel Chili dogs in Vancouver, Washington.
We even stopped in Albany and finally found my Brewery for Chili beer but it had already closed for the night, so we returned beerless after all of that.*
My tooth blazed all through that, and this morning after due consideration I called my dentist and they got me in early when someone else cancelled. One xray and the bad news came to me. The tooth is fractured and the root canal I had below it was highly infected. So in two days it comes out. The whole tooth gets removed and in several months, after surgery is over and done with, we will look at what my options for that missing tooth. Luckily it is my molar so it is not openly viewable to others. At that point I was immediately put on antibiotics.
Needless to say, I called Seattle and let them know and they quickly returned my call gathering all the pertinent information to collate into my file. Cool.
*I discovered that we do have the chili beer locally so tomorrow I will be picking up bottles to put into the frig so that after my course of antibiotics has been completed and when I am on the mend I can sit back and rejoice.
I have to give thanks to my Golden Heart friend (we’ve been calling him Robert) for getting me fired up on the exercise bike. His prodding got me to practice and with good reason too. I was able to keep on trucking on the bike right through the test and when I stopped it was not because my legs were tired, it was because my breath was short! And I think that’s what they wanted to know!
brand, too, with a little foil pull top!
