Wednesday February 24th(part 2)

So I am zoning in and zoning out …..
The nausea is now much, much, reduced and I am still having moments of forgotten brilliance. I ask if I have a catheter and Nurse Kevin tells me that I do. “We think of everything” I recall him saying . I knew that my sternum was to be split and that arteries were to be removed but the breathing tube and the catheter were what really worried me (an interesting commentary on myself). So much for fears – the breathing tube I barely remember and the catheter was not noticeable. Mind you I would have only taken a size small catheter.

Somewhere along the line, say around eight or so, my Cardiac Surgeon comes by and asks how I am doing. I tell him the truth – I feel pretty okay and very grateful . He told me that he wanted to make an extra mortgage payment so I had a quintuple bypass. Wow – just like David Letterman, I think.

The next benchmark is the removal of my four chest drainage tubes. I am looking towards that of course, but not having been down the path before, I am having a bit of trepidation. I get a special pill, Kevin says breathe in, hold your breath. I do and he yanks and I feel a bit of a twitch and that’s it. The only glitch that only three of four can come out – an air bubble is floating between my body and the little vacuum cleaner / bubbling machine in the one line and that is not good. The bubble has to disappear and that takes time. So I am attached to this gizmo. It is sort of like being next to a bubbling aquarium pump. Also I am on nose oxygen as opposed to the mask.

While this work on the tubes go on, a volunteer had come in and was asking if my wife could come in and of course the answer was that there was bit of a delay while they dealt with the tubes. But then I see her and it is an emotional wave. It's so wonderful to see her. She comes up to me, gives me a peck on the cheek and shows the pictures that she had taken when she had visited early Wednesday evening. I looked sort of funky. Then she places the Red Olympic Gloves on me and snaps a picture. I am grinning like an idiot and that is the way I feel – a big contented happy idiot. I am also still drifting in an out and my wife goes for lunch. I sort remember being moved to a wheel chair, bubbler pump thing, oxygen, urine outflow thing, and IV in two down to X Ray and then off to my room on the third floor.

My wife finds me and all I really remember is drifting in and out, but also going for a 60 meter assisted walk with all my goodies in tow yet again. The rest of the day / evening is spent in bed doing not much, but getting checked in detail every two hours. I worry about my wife driving home in the snow. I have a nice semi- private room with a window view.