Well I'm here on the tenth floor of UCSF Medical Center. I've got my laptop with me, so I figured I'd update everyone. I have my left arm in a sling, and have been on narcotics for days now, so excuse any typing errors.
First let me tell you about how the surgery went. It ended up being much more extensive than planned and as a result I was in surgery for about 9 hours. When I woke up, I was lying flat on my back in an extreme amount of pain. I've never been in so much pain in my entire life. I was telling the doctors I couldn't breathe and they kept telling me to take deep breaths. I would say back to them that I coudn't because it hurt too bad. I told them I needed to sit up so I could breath. They propped me up a little but I told them no, I needed to sit all the way up. I held onto the side of the gurney and tried to breathe for awhile. At some point they were giving me ice chips which felt like heaven to my mouth! Then I started to retch and one of the doctors said it was because of the ice chips. I said it was because of the narcotics they were giving me, not the ice chips. They tried to give me more pain medications but I told them no because it was making me sick. We argued about this for awhile, I guess I lost. Melissa finally came in to see me (I kept telling the docs I wasn't ready to see anyone because I was in so much pain and couldn't breathe). I remember seeing my chest tube and Melissa's face as they lifted it to see how much fluid was in there. I thought it was because of the fluids. Apprently she was angry with them for witholding pain meds. I guess she wasn't there for our heated arguement. The backs of my heels hurt really bad, and I kept trying to pull the sheet under them for any amount of padding.
They removed the rib and were unable to fix the vein that was in there, it was so badly scarred. So they opened up a notch in my sternum and pulled my collar bone up so they could put a new vein in there. They took a piece of vein out of my groin area and grafted it into my shoulder. They also took a small part of my left wrist and attached an artery directly to the vein going up into my arm. That way as the artery pulses, it pushes blood through that vein and back up ino the heart. Ive got stitches and nmbing there. They hooked my arm up to a compression sleeve to make sure good blood flow keeps going through the new vein graft. The compression sleeve is interesing because it was actually a small leg compression sleeve that they rigged up to work on my arm. But a piece of it has to be attached to the sleeve on my arm or it wont work. So there's his weird floppy inflating thing hanging off the back of my arm. It's like this thing's evil twin: if they get separated or I lay on the extra piece, it shuts off and alarms start going off. All the nurses and PCA's (patient care assistants) ask me what it is, and where it's supposed to be attached to. It just hangs off me and inflates every ten seconds or so. There's a third part of this thing that hangs off the base of my bed and inflates too. All by itself, but it has to because it a 3 part contraption. But I'm not sure why it can be further away without setting off alarms.
So the days have been coming and going, and so has my pain. I've been walking laps in the hallways and using a breathing trainer to get me to take deeper breaths. I'll be in a sling for six weeks and off work for 3 months. Percocet (a narcotic) was extremely unpleasant for me, and so I've been switched to vicodin. I'm on oral pain meds now after a few days on IV pain meds and a narcotic pump that I push when I need to. I still have the pump hooked up but I haven't used it nearly as much. I should be getting my chest tube out tomorrow and will likely be released from the hospital on Tuesday.
The nurses have been really great, but I've had a certain PCA during that day that is absolutely oblivvious to the patient and his or her needs. I needed to get up and use the commode by my med. I told her I needed her to be sure my chest tube clears the bed. I guess to her that meant I wasn't hooked up to anything else, and once that was clear I was good to go. She didn't realize I was still busy managing two IV's, and oxygen tube, and a portable heart monitor. She told me to sit, I was fine. I told her to hang on, as I was fumling with my oxygen. She said "Sit! Sit!" as I desperately attempted to clear myself from the tangled mess. I sat and just leaned forward. Afterwards she put me on a chair so she could change my bed and gown. First of all, she took fartoo long and didn't put any pillows on my chair to keep me comfortable. Then when she was making the bed, she didn't check to be sure my oygen was free of the arm before she collapsed it... rather quickly might I add. It wasn't free. It was wrapped around it and the other end was wrapped around my head. I nearly took a nose dive as it ripped me forward and out of my chair.
After getting me back in bed, she confirmed with me that I was NPO (nothing by mouth). The hell I was. I hadn't been NPO for 3 days, what the hell? Who was this woman and why was she taking care of me? She had no clue what my needs were! So she continued to ask about what I had eaten... had I eaten 75% of my lunch, or more like 50%? How much of my coffee had I drank, how much water? How the hell should I know, look at my tray! She did it again that night after dinner and it completely baffled me and she held up my milk carton and asked how much of it I had drank? 75%? 50%? I racked my brain to try to remember if I had drank it all or not, so I asked her if it was empty or not. She said it wasn't and it still had a little in it. Unable to reach the carton to measure for myself, I just said 80%. I don't know lady, you're the one holding it in your hands. I'm lacking my usualy psychic ability being in the hospital.
Not long after, I was taken down to x-ray. After I was done, maybe 2 minutes later I was set back into the hallway to await my transporter. I waited, and waited, and waited. I could hear people laughing and joke in the room behind me. I considered escape. I knew my room was on the 10th floor and I was currently on the third. It would only be a matter of finding the elevators and then my room once I got up to my floor. I thought about my ability to get up and carry my chest tube to the elevators. I sat up to look around and the x-ray technician came out and made me lay down again. She said my transporter knew I was done and would bring me back to my room shortly. After about 10 more minutes, my transporter came out and brought me back to my room.
By this time of the day I was not in a good mood and didn't fair too well when the doctors chided me for not walking more or using my spirometer more that day. Coupled with way too much percocet, I was not in a brillant mood.
Things have gotten better and I'm feeling better and walking more. I currently have unassisted access to my comode (bed side toilet). I'm on vicodin which is working with me much better than the percocet. However, that PCA says she's looking forward to seeing me tomorrow. This after dumping my only stool sample that I'm able to produce, and blaming me and my nurse for it. That thing took a very painful half hour to produce and resembled a rock solid alien child. It weighed in at about 10 lbs, was roughly 6 inches long and 3 inches in diameter. She aggressively flushed about 6 times to get it to go down. It was amusing to say the least. But I may not have another bowel movement for another 2 weeks, so they probably won't be getting a sample. Oh well.
I gotta pee and get ready for bed. I'm starting to fade a bit. See you guys!
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