Trying to find the track.

     I may repeat a few things just bear with me is all.  I remember driving out east to the cigar lounge, no not for a cigar.  To see a pal that works there.  Met a new employee, found out my friends brother had passed, not unexpectedly.  It was still a nice 20 mile drive, one of the longest during my recovery.
     I remember getting a little bored with my walk around town, but kept going.  I hadn't fought to get my life back so I could just waste away.  I was feeling pretty good.  Called people, bill collectors and such.  Listening to my sister in her misery. 
     Overall it was nice and I was making sure to enjoy.  I think in the news we first started to hear about tropical storm Irene.

Savoring the moments

     I was thoroughly enjoying my freedom once again.  It was a sheer delight.  I made sure not to waste this time.  I can still remember being imprisoned while recovering from my first OPH surgeries.  They were all winter time recoveries.  Talk about stir crazy.  Hell I even looked forward to going back to school back then.
     Now as an adult I knew how precious stuff in general was, and that included time.  Funny you know they say time gets shorter as we grow older.  I think we just become more aware of it all.  We date things by certain things.  Holidays, birthdays, yes even paychecks.  When you are young it is all still so fresh and you've so little to actually do, you have more time.  So let's blame responsibility?  That's another discussion.
     As August progressed I was feeling better.  My fingers on my right hand still numb.  I was not overly testing my limits.  Adoring the morning walks, the summer sounds, the taste of it all.  I had also stopped staring straight down as I now strolled.  I did, however, keep a watchful eye on that rock.  It was going to move one day.
     Walking in town was wonderful. Up the street and back down to the bakery.  Home for that delicious warm brew.  Now unfortunately a small piece of my afternoon was taken up by my sister.  Brought her lunch from the deli and such.  Heard the complaints, which I assured her only meant she was getting better.
     I wasn't napping in the afternoon with any frequency.  You know I just realized I may have left some important items out.  Must remember in the next post.

Pattern sets in.

     With my new mobility I had a new pattern.  That was to visit my sister and bring her lunch from the deli.  Not overly exciting.  Got to hear her complain and say how she was going to change her life again.  No more smoking, excercise, all that crap.  She also had to endure a hellish ride back to the surgeon via ambulette so her surgeon could remove staples.  She was in pain and crying, he told her to not be such a baby.  Oh this guy was such a prick.
     Still walking and taking time to enjoy the time off.  Knew it would not come again like this.  Saw neighbors here and there.  Paid bills, called insurance and stuff.  I wasn't sleeping as much either, I was happy about that.
     By now my right hand, remember the finger numbness, was much improved.  The left was still rather numb.  I was able to do little things.  At some point my brother in law had decided that it was better to drink 6-9 beers a night rather than kill an 18 pack over the weekend.  Yeah I never saw the logic there either.  Just a point to let you know I was very alone in my recovery.
     My sister really lost it in the rehab.  I would get hysterical calls from rehab how she couldn't take it there anymore.  I tried to do my best, but it was for her own good.  At one point she felt that it would be a good idea if she came home and just went there for rehab.  Not sure she was rational.  It endured.
     Weekends were spent visiting.  Think brother in law took the dog up to see her once.  She was still bleeding a bit.  Visit went well enough.  It was a toll on her and credit must be paid.  It was during those visits I realized she was smoking again.  Sorry but what assholes.  Anyway.

First social event

     Apparently my grandfather's wife had passed.  I am going to treat it blandly on all occasions because it is a lot of family stuff.  I received the call from my Uncles' wife.  They live around the corner.  Sad news of course.  This woman wasn't my grandmother, but the woman that my grandfather married a year after her death.  Long history and stuff.  Also long history with my Uncle, grandfathers son, his only child with my grandmother.  She had 2 other children, one of which was my mom, from her first marriage.  Never met him, died when my mom was 2.
     I spoke with my sister and of course I should go.  Was a far drive.  Called the funeral parlor and bought flowers from where they recommended.  In fact all the flowers for the funeral were from there.  I would make the afternoon wake.
     Was about a 45 minute drive from home.  Had directions.  Listening to sports station en route.  They were interrupted.  New York had experienced an earthquake.  Not overly violent, but not a usual occurrence here.  I've never heard sports radio get interrupted before or since.
     Got a little lost, recovered and made the funeral parlor.  Nice lay out, small turn out.  Family stuff.  Was a little conversation about the earthquake.  No one inside had felt it.  One cousin was in her car in the lot and did feel it.  Was asked if I'd be making the service and burial the next day.  Of course I said I would.
     Drove home and reported to my sister in the rehab center.  She truly hated the place, I couldn't blame her.  Have I covered this?  If so skip the next paragraph and maybe the one after.
     Physical therapy rehabs seem to be done in nursing homes.  Rather depressing.  You have people trying to get better and people that, well, face it, it's a nursing home.  The food was horrible.  Rooms painted a heinous shade of blue.  People always in the hallways, many moaning and delirious.  My sister was outside of a nursing station, so that was a big congregating spot.  Okay enough there, you can tell why she hated it.  Did I mention the food?  I remember one time looking at the tray, reading what it was supposed to be.  Unrecognizable slop.  In fact my friends mom was there, she passed before I had clearance to drive or leave house.  She also lamented about the food at the same place.  Nice woman, great cook.
     Okay it's safe background covered. 
     My sister said I had to go to the burial, I said of course.  Back to funeral home, drive caravan style to cemetary and agreed to go to the lunceon.  It was at a family buffet style chinesse restaurant.  Was allright.  Really wish I'd had more time with my grandfather.  Apparently his wife was in hospital for an entire year.  No one told us.  Still can't get a hold of him.  Uncle makes claims.  Like I said family stuff.  That covers it.

Returning this weekend

     I will return and post 3-4 coherent blogs here this weekend.

Freedom with a price is still better.

     I still had my time to myself.  One morning, parking in the train station parking lot I decided to walk up on a side street of town.  Hadn't done it before.  Just one block east of Main, so no worries.
     Something about a little residential street, noise, birds, shadows from the sun.  Very comforting.  At the end was an ecclectic little house.  By that I mean it was done up with a lot of yard knick knacks, that all seemed to go together.  It was a sheer delight to behold.  I really wish I could describe it.  This year seemed to be more reserved or I should have taken pictures.
     Walking by this house was my reward as well I felt.  I looked forward to it.  Then back down main street, to the bakery.  It was a delight.  It was near the end of this week that we recieved the news that my Grandfathers wife had passed.  Apparently she had been very ill, and we did not know.  So we shall continue next with the wake. 

More general stuff

      Freedom is a fond thing.  Of course mine now came with a price.  My sister just minites down the road now, demanded my attention.  Had to bring her lunch.  I will say the nursing home where she was interred for her rehab was pretty awful.
     If I recall rooms were painted a baby blue, which did not seem to ease one at all.  The television, well at least she had one.  And a room of her own, not that that mattered either.  She was just outside the nurses station.  A lot of people congregated there.  Literally moaning and just being miserable.  It was not pleasant.  I tried to remind her it wasn't permanent.
     Also that she was making progress, and was getting physical therapy and such.  The food was awful, so I would bring her lunch and such.  So for the most part, my days for the rest of summer would consist of going to the nursing home/rehab center around lunch time.  I did the best I could.
     There were also many phone calls of how miserable she was and wanted to come home and such.  And my brother in law decided to start drinking 6-9 beers a night.  Yeah, I was home.

I can drive!

     Word came back, I was cleared to drive.  The wonderful secretary at the surgeons office called and told me so.  Apparently he usually cut 2 weeks off of what the paper work said.  I was thrilled.  I could drive again!
     I swore not to over do it.  I was very careful and stayed local the first week.  Making sure not to twist the chest any more than necessary.  Probably a little over cautious.  My first drive?  To the train station parking lot across from the bakery.  My first walk was going to be in town I decided.  Finished of course with a muffin.
     With great trepidation I drove out about 7 in the morning.  Making sure to have my cell phone with me.  Ample parking.  I parked and took a wistful breath.  Freedom once again.  I had decided to walk up and down on the main street of town.
     It's not a huge town, I'll get the mileage tomorrow.  It is a nice walk, not hilly.  Busy with people who in August are going to work and such.  Carefully I tread.  Taking easy steps, breathing in, and oozing pure excitement and enjoyment.  I monitored myself just to be sure not to over do it.  After all it had been months since I drove.
     I should mention it was also with great delight that I was able to fit between the steering wheel, not being overly bloated with water.  It was a gorgeous day, promising screeching heat by noon.  So I had plenty of time.  The walk was one of my longest, took 40 minutes round trip.  I loved it.  I bragged in the bakery and sat down and ate my muffin.  This was the way I wanted my life back.  Doing what I wanted and not being held back by my body deteriorating.  Enjoying every breath I could. 
     I returned home.  Did my usual routines and noted no side effects of driving. I was very happy.  Next week was my surgeons appointment.  I wanted to ask him about that thing in my neck.  Do try to remember it, it is important.
     I'd been driving for about a week, taking slightly longer drives, working my way up to the 40 mile drive to the hospital, where my surgeons office was.  It was with great aplomb I got there.  Found parking and was very happy not to have to take a break walking from car to the elevator.
     The office was very comfortable.  I was told I would have to wait.  I profusely thanked the secretary who helped me continue my disability.  Smiled like a food kid when I finally saw the surgeon.  He examined me and said I was healing well.  I asked when I could be cleared for work.  Of course he said, "What's the rush?".  He then told me that it would be up to my cardiologist.  That appointment was at the very end of August.  I would have to wait.  I continued to thank him and promptly forgot to ask the question about the thing in my neck. 
     I called my sister when it was over, she was delighted.  She also told me the news that she had been approved and would probably be in rehab this week.  In our town, minutes away from the house.  I congratulated her and told her I was proud of her.

More general stuff but cohesive

     We focus a little on my sister now.  She was doing well.  They wanted to ship her to physical rehab.  The hospital she was in now was full so they were looking all over.  She called me with 2 names of places, which forced me to use her computer.  Let's just say she eats at her computer often and I had gross key boards.
     Physical rehab can be a hard place to get into. There has to be an opening.  I believe earlier I mentioned about 1 of my roommates.   Needed it but took 2 steps to many.
     In any case there was one about 20 minutes away from the house.  I looked it up.  First thing on the website, "STRONG POLICE PRESENCE" we skipped it and waited for another one.  Honestly I was in no rush to get her home, I wasn't up to it yet.  I was also hoping that having just survived a dangerous procedure that she would get a new lease on life and such.
     I'd begun a nice routine for myself.  Let my brother in law leave.  Walk to bakery.  Get home and devour muffin.  Lay out snacks for the day.  Pretty much as I recollect, grapes, 20 unsalted pretzels.  Didn't lay out the parfait, that was made when I wanted it.  Shower, sometimes I'd go to lie in bed wondering if I was overdoing it. Another mid morning walk, oh I adored them.  I mean August, off, was a grand time to recuperate.
     Lunch time, I think cartoon network, which I discovered, played the Flintstones, oh that took me back.  And yes plenty of Judge shows.  Okay must go, next we'll start with driving.

Some rambling stuff to fill the void. Will get interesting again.

     It was around this time, I'll say late July and early August.  I started to realize that I was getting better.  The numbness in my left hand was much improved, the right hand not so much.  I still couldn't quite open bottles of seltzer on my own.
     My sister was recuperating from her successfully surgery and would call now and again.  Do a bit of complaining, she hated the hospital of course.  The food absolutely sucked, and she wanted to come home.  She knew that was a long ways off.  They were talking about rehab for her.  Partly probably because of where the would was, uterine if you remember.  And I always suspected her being so overweight.  The idea was being thrown around.  I did the best I could, I was still recovering myself.
     I was getting bills in order.  Even had to call the surgeon.  Not for issues but for disability.  It seemed I was to be cut off.  Long story short it had to do with clearing me for going back to work.  I still had a week or 2 before the appointment. The secretary was a sweetheart and helped keep me getting my short term disability.  Even promised to ask the Dr. about when I could actually start driving again.  I was ecstatic.
     Don't get me wrong, I loved being home.  I was making the most of it.  Loving the heat, the walks were getting more and more enjoyable.  The bakery again.  Oh recovering during the summer is just the best, in my opinion.  I did have a longing for being mobile.
     If you remember they'd given me a very generic flyer about when you were able to do this and that again.  From ages 10-100 I figured.  Well the surgeon usually said driving was okay a full 3 weeks before the paper work said okay.  A kid the night before Christmas was I.
     Long story short I was cleared the first week in August, I couldn't wait.  It also would be possible for me to drive myself to the surgeon final appointment.  My brother in law wouldn't have to take off to drive me.

Coffe and first long walk.

     The very next morning, after my brother in law brought me my muffin.  I made myself my first cup of coffee.  Was so delicious.  I wasn't going to over due it.  Just one cup and nothing unusual.
     The next morning was nice and sunny.  I asked for nothing from the bakery, I had my plan set.  I wasn't telling my brother in law.  Not out of cruelty but more that he'd be concerned about it.  I was going to walk all the way to the bakery.
     He left his normal time, about 7.  I waited until about 7:30 and decided it was then.  It was a very hot summer that year, but the mornings were fine.  So I wanted to give myself time.  I checked that I had my keys.  I checked I had my cell phone.  I was off walking with trepidation.  More giddy than nervous until I hit the end of the road street that lead me to cross and make the gentle uphill to the bakery.
     Slowly I walked, cautiously, making sure I wasn't over exerting myself at all.  I remember stopping a few times, once halfway uphill I questioned the sanity of it.  Feeling reassured and the sheer adventure of being able to to it I continued.  The hill crested and just a few tenths of a mile between the bakery and me.  I was excited.  I'd done it.  I felt oddly empowered.  I wasn't tired and I was just thinking of my muffins and taking them home to enjoy with the coffee.
     I was greeted like a long lost friend, it felt good.  Told the girls that were there what had transpired.  I'd not been doing the bakery runs since late April.  They'd wondered where I was.  Feeling good that I was missed, good to talk to some new people I departed warning them I'd be back. 
     I made the descent downhill, happy, giddy, and enthused.  At home I made coffee, can't remember if the dog even knew I left.  She had begun sleeping under a chair in my brother in law and sisters bed room.  I let her be.  It was time to relax and that I did.
     I even went out back, the dog joined me then for a bit.  It was a glorious morning and I felt full of promise and hope.  Yes! I was going to be getting my old life back!  With a passion!

A drive and a walk

     I'd let my brother in law know about my appointment to the cardiologist.  Was simply a follow up.  Then the surgeon a few weeks later.  Now according to that silly assed paperwork, I wasn't suppossed to drive until the week that coincided with the surgeon appointment.  Now I figure it had to do with turning and screwing up the chest bones they had to drill with.  Maybe it also has to do with air bags.  For the nonce, it was being driven and still in the back seat.  I was taking no chances.
     About 30 or so miles from my house, not in the easiest to find place.  We went.  We got there, found parking.  The cardiologist seemed to like how things were progressing.  Nice fellow.  I forgot to ask him, I'd discovered it recently and this is important so remember this.  I seemd to have a black thing in my neck....a stitch.  I was unsure.  I suppose I was just so glad to hear things were going well.  I then asked when he thought I'd be cleared to go back to work, he asked me what the rush was.
     In my mind I was yelling "you try living on short term disability".  I also asked him who gave me the okay to go back to work.  Calm as day on the outside.  Probably said something to the effect of just wanting to get on with my life.  We left, called my sister I think.  I really can't remember.  As I said in the begining she's okay.  I'm assuming she was fine and know she was glad to hear the Dr. report.
     Also equally important.  I asked him about coffee.  His response was do you need to have coffee.  Told him if I needed it there would be no conversation, I'd just stop drinking it.  I love coffee to much to become one of those zombie people in the morning that can't function without it.  Joy of Joy, he cleared me.
Let's make this a to be continued eh?
    
  

Some more little things that may or may not interest.

     One of the big things with heart stuff is sodium.  Now I couldn't make it simpler than this, the more processed a food the more sodium.  You are supposed to eat no more than 2000 milligrams a day.  That can add up quickly.  It is a lot easier to do research these days than back in the dark ages of my first OPH surgeries.  I'll leave it at this.
     So I took some notes and did a brief diet outline of how I began to eat.  I think I mentioned portioning things out and such.  There won't be a lot, I mean I did it to get an idea.  One of the big things I did notice was breads.  For instance Arnold's has one that is fairly decent, and actually breaks it up nicely.
     This is my list for 2 days, after that I got the hang of it.
Monday.  2 snacks consisting of 1 cup of grapes =2mg  1 orange =1mg

Breakfast:
1/2 of a whole wheat pita 160 mg
1/4 of an avocado 5 mg
1 fried egg 162mg

Also was the yogurt thing featured in the previous blog.  Was unsure of certain sodium levels. 
2 or 3 strawberries 1 mg
blueberries -unsure no notes made
1/2 cup vanilla no fat yogurt 75 mg
teaspoon of honey - no idea

Lunch:
(obviously the other half of the pita) 160 mg <this was before I discovered Arnold's>
skirt steak and handful of lettuce

Dinner:
burger no roll
1/2 of tomatoe
1 serving of Nathans frozen fries 9 count for 15 mg

     I also discovered other wonderful snacks I could have.  Sugar free Jello, Multi grain Cheerios's, fruit, unsalted pretzels, and wonderful Italian Ices which I discovered in the hospital.
     But yes food is a big culprit.  It really takes us to stop and think about what we are eating.  When we do we can find ways to eat better and eat right.  Or at least it is what works for me.  Then again, I was indoctrinated at a damned early age I reckon.
     Yes read labels and contents of foods.  If you even want to try to start with one, I'd almost recommend High Fructose Corn Syrup.  It is chemically engineered corn syrup and is totally different from the origin.  If you don't believe me read the panels when next you food shop.  You'll be wondering why it's in everything.  In fact there is only 1 ice cream I found, have not looked hard recently, majorly marketed that does not contain it.  Breyers.

      Okay I'm done.

General musings.

     As I write this we are in the week anniversary of Hurricane Irene.  Lost power for a week.  A lot of my recollections are the same but not as coherent.  By that I mean some of the time lines to me seem off.  I still want to record them.
     The walks definitely got a bit longer.  I was enjoying them greatly as I said.  On one such morning I walked the entire distance of my little road, long enough I assure you.  Walking near a fence I heard what was an undeniable sound.  A Labrador!  Great dogs, jumpers.  I was unclear where it came from.  I was a little scared.
     I did not want this beastly thing jumping on me; hurting my chest in it's happy enthusiasm; worse yet knocking me over.  I came around the bend and saw it charging down the driveway ahead of me.  I froze.  Then it happened and when it was over, I was glad to have seen it.
     The owner upon the stoop in his bathrobe.  The hound raced down the driveway, paused to look at me.  Undaunted by my appearance it had a sacred mission that came first.  It seized the morning paper at the bottom of the driveway and bounded back happily to its master and into the house both went.  I never actually saw a dog retrieve a paper in my life ever before.  It was fantastic.  I can still recall it to this day.  No I never saw a repeat performance, but once was enough.  Just the right amount of fear and awe to make it last a long time in me.
     I told my brother in law of it when I returned, he listened good natured but uninterestedly.  Asked if I needed anything from the bakery, 2 muffins.  Also it was in this week I noticed the tingling in my left hand had subsided and the 2 affected fingers felt almost normal.  The right was still as it was.
     Feeling a little better I prepared to make a sort of ice cream mixture.  No I hadn't forgotten that I wanted ice cream badly.  If you remember I made a mixture of berries; local honey; yogurt.  Well I froze it.  Not great.  Taste was fine, but for one I still had poor upper body strength so couldn't really dig in.  The frozen yogurt just didn't do it for me, and the honey seemed to not like freezing.  I could taste every sugar granule.  Although I was glad to have made the attempt.
     I'd asked one of my neighbors if they would go to the fish store for me.  One of them did.  Got a quarter pound of flounder, I was looking forward to it.  It was expensive and I was surprised.  I cooked it, broiled it with some caramelized onions; lemon pepper; breadcrumbs on top.  I thought I'd have leftovers but the money only bought me enough for one meal.  It was good, though I did allow myself to fear that I'd undercooked it.
     To follow....the cardio appointment.

We're in week 2

     I started to take slightly longer walks in the morning.  Had my brother in law there if I need a ride, thankfully I never did.  Sister was recuperating from her surgery well.  Still in the hospital.
     One morning I took a long walk to the end of a street.  It would be a very slight incline on the way back.  I knew it had to be done.  Slowly, happily enjoying the early morning.  If anything in life I'm a true morning person.  Especially in the summer times.  Beyond this was a short main road that lead to a steep uphill to my bakery.  Oh I longed to go there.  I was however erring on the side of caution and trying not to overdo it. 
     I also knew it would worry my brother in law, so it had to be done after he left for work.  It was an accomplishment.  I was proud of myself.  Returned home and toasted the corn muffin, one of them, for me.  It was heavenly.  Oh I missed baked goods in the hospital.  And I do love a good bakery.
     Home was a routine.  Morning walk.  Eat.  I'd had to set up my PlayStation 2 in lieu of my t.v.  Nap.  Get up for the peoples court.  Snack.  Rest and wait for Judge Alex.  Not my favorite of them but he passed the time.  Lunch time.  Found the cartoon network and was in heaven watching things like the Flintstones from my childhood.  I was making sure to take it easy and enjoy the serenity.  Life would eventually return to normal for me.
     Afternoon walks, staying mostly in the shade.  Occasionally running into neighbors, that was very pleasant.  I couldn't help but notice the lack of kids outside playing,   What with video games, computers, cell phones, and what not.  A thing truly of the past.  I'd sometimes take the dog out back with me.  Not much of a lover of outdoors she tolerated it a bit then would sit on the stoop waiting to get back inside.
     It would be still another 4 weeks before I could drive, according to the paperwork I had been given after discharge.  Again I was doing nothing to compromise myself at all.  Had my seltzer, preopened in the fridge.  I still couldn't do that even, brother in law would open one for me in the morning.
     Happily I was once again in command of my bathroom situation.  Yes sometimes it was a contest to see if I could get there in time.  My body would just assume as I let down my sweats it was time and I'd have to say no.  I even waited a few times.  I didn't want to be one to have to wear adult diapers, not yet at least.
     My people from the Hartford, the disability came from them, would call periodically.  I also had an appointment with the cardiologist in a week, the one who admitted me.  My own cardio dude wasn't until October.  I had asked my brother in law to drive me to that one because I still wasn't allowed.
     My sister didn't want me to visit her, I agreed.  Not out of spite, but I was truly fearful of catching something.   She was now able to call me during the day, I'd hear about what was going on and her disgusting meals.  Once again let me praise my hospital for their food.  I actually was missing their yogurt parfait.   And the week passed.

Not a way to start the week.

     I can remember it being a Monday.  I never sleep with the television on, but it is the first thing I put on when I wake up.  There it was on each and every channel in my room:
         It basically stated that to now view cable you needed a cable box to view channels.  It sucked.  I've been without a television in my room ever since.
     I laughed it off.  Didn't really need it anyway.  I'd started falling into a routine.  Get up, go for a walk.  Ask brother in law to get me muffins from the bakery, oh how I love a good muffin.  And right now the same bakery is doing an awesome cinnamon tea biscuit, oh I love it, I just wish they didn't ice it, oh well.
     Still craving that ice cream, but wanting to be extra careful what I ate I concocted the following.  Quarter cup of the following, strawberries; blueberries; and one banana.  Not sure safe to say a little less than a full cup, stony field vanilla yogurt.  And 1 tablespoon local honey.  Heavenly when mixed together.  Froze it, not bad, but somehow I could never resist it as soon as I ate it.
     Usually I'd go for the second walk about 11.  The day was heating up deliciously.  I was getting more confident and not walking head down the entire time.  The feeling had been coming back nicely in my left hand, not so much in the right.
     Get back, little nap, light lunch, snacks, I portioned out grapes, pretzels as good snacks.  Low sodium.  Feeling better with every passing day.

Just some mundane stuff

     I still wasn't so much sitting at my computer, but did have it on.  I would put on free pod casts, from Itunes, for entertainment.  Had a good year of them to catch up on.  The only one I can really remember was Smodcast, Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier, funny stuff.  I listented to that sparingly.
     It basically hurt when I laughed.  Of course when you think on it, it should.  I was at times bothered and wondered if I'd ever be able to laugh again.  Yes I had a few moments of thought of despair here and there.
     Told myself to also enjoy the afternoon napping, it would end eventually, so I made sure not to fight it at all.  The dog would often sleep in my doorway for awhile then wander off somewhere else.
     Friday the hospital called for a survey, ripped the heck out of the patients relations department, everything else got 4 stars.  Sister was doing okay in the hospital.  I'd heard some stories about the following week.  My cable company was doing something, paid it little heed.  I was just recovering.
     The weekend passed much in the same way.  Asked my brother in law to pick up some items I wanted.  Most of all was some fresh fruit and yogurt.  More to come on that.
   

The rock and I

     I felt rather good after speaking my peace.  I had made it to Thursday and decided I was going to be fine.  Still weak, napping, eating right, walking every day.  I was now walking corner to corner on my block, still carefully, head down.  My primary concern was still tripping, my upper body strength was paltry.
     The walk to one corner in particular troubled my slightly.  There was a pothole, oh yes easily avoided.  There was however, a rock, it sat there every day.  I started to notice I became wary of the thing every time I neared it.  It would garner all of my attention.  I feared tripping over it.  As if it would move hahaha.
     In my head I'd approach, and my brain would literally scream "Look out for the ROCK!!!!"  No I never did trip over it.  It never moved all summer.  But I really feared it and laugh about it now.
     My walks were a very enjoyable break for me.  Generally took one in the wee hours of the morning, when dawns light broke and I could see, and yes keep and eye on my enemy the rock.  The midday walk was my favorite.  Saw some neighbors here and there.  It was that delicious hot July weather that I adored.  The sun, the shade of the trees, life in general, I really did enjoy it all.
     It was after the walk, I do believe it was the same day, because I was still over obsessed with the rock.  The visiting nurse service called me.  The conversation was brief.  I had no real gripe against them, asked if I could schedule one, although I felt assured it was pointless now.
     I was essentially told that I had been out of the hospital to long.  Being discharged just the previous Saturday.  I would need a Dr.'s note.  I scoffed, yes I remember that.  I thanked them for calling and hung up.  I'd made it and I would be fine.  Watched some television and napped.
     I truly don't remember the food at all at home, which is odd for me.  I do know that first week I ate pre portioned snacks, fruit, and plenty of seltzer drinking.

Thursday

     Somewhere in the afternoon haze of lounging in my bed I answered the telephone.  Lo and behold it was the Patients Relations 2nd in command.  Apparently my insurance company had called them.
     I stated the fact of my displeasure as I have in the blog.  Case by case, and I did let them know that I felt it was an egregious wrong.  Not so much on my behalf because I did have people if needed.  What of the people released that have no one, no one to look after them, no one to check, or even the first time of surgery.  On that count I told the woman I was outraged.
     She apologised profusely and promised this would be taken up.  She also promised me that someone from the visiting nurse service would call me either today or tomorrow.  I said fine.
     By now I was not so worried.  There seemed to be no infection, no temperature, and I knew to take care of myself.  Furthermore, I had felt I struck a blow for those less fortunate than me, I still hope that I did.  I was still a little unsteady on my feet and had to be careful.  I was in no doubt on my way to recovery.
(tomorrow perhaps the story of the rock and I)

Thursday

     Still slept quite a bit.  Had to constantly remind myself it was okay.  The body was still healing, getting used to my walking and doing the daily stuff I wasn't used to.  I was very careful not to move my arms to much, or overly exert myself.
     Started to fall into a nice rhythm.  Walk to corners, was still doing only small ones, didn't want to over do it, about 5:30 A.M.  Brother in law kept a wary eye on me, but helped.  Even would hit the bakery for me, for a muffin, before work.  I took advantage of this a few times.  I love my bakeries muffins.
     Each day put snacks in proper proportioned containers.  I did seem to need to eat, usually now every 4 hours.  I took this as a good sign.  By need I mean I would actually feel a little light headed. Had to remind myself it was because I was doing more and the body needed the energy.
     At some point my insurance company called.  Long story short the person I spoke to seemed to be out raged that no visiting nurse had been arranged.  I say it now, I find it nice, not sure what I felt at that time.  Shortly later I received a call from the hospital patients advocate office.

Wensday

     The day came like all others.  Had to make a follow up appointment with the cardiologist that had signed me in.  I would have to be driven to that one.  Food was good.  I remembered for one, Cheerios were a low sodium snack.  I had a lot of ziplock pint containers, for when I made soups in the winter.  I'd lay out my snacks in that.  Grapes, cheerios and stuff like that.  Was very preoccupied with serving size and such.
     I was still washing in the sink with a washcloth, very carefully.  Becoming more used to the way my scar looked.  My hands were still numb at the outer digits, mentioned previously.  Rest was nice.  Got a call from my insurance company, they were appalled about my visiting nurse issues and would get on top of it.  Also checked in with the woman involved in my short term disability.
     A word about that.  Cut your pay check in half, then half again, that is what they expect you to live on.
     I was feeling stronger, almost by will.  Took a Tylenol if I thought I had a temperature.  I was still a little disconcerted by no medical care.  I watched a lot of television, listened to my favorite podcast.  All that.  Started to look at some bills.
     I was also enjoying my walking out doors.  It was so nice to be in the sun and air again and not just a voyeur of it. My days were mine and I will say I was enjoying every bit of my recovery.  Feeling stronger and stronger.

Tuesday

     No I wouldn't say I was nervous, apprehensive would be more suiting.  Sister in the hospital; brother in law off to work with a visit to her after that.  Had my first day.  These memories are more vague than the actual surgery and hospital visits but I shall do my best by you.
     My brother in law waited nervously for my return that early morning from my walk.  I assured him I was well.  I'd begun having him put my seltzer in the fridge, already cracked open.  It kept longer.  I knew I had to keep up the fluid intake.  Which of course was my biggest issue.
     You see my body was very used to peeing when it wanted.  I had no urinal, had to walk to the bathroom.  A few times with a little 'moisture' in my boxers.  I was however hopeful.  I was already improving from the hospital, going on the floor en route to the bathroom.  I really thought the cleaning crew hated me.  My biggest impetus was that there was no one to clean up after me.  I still had minimal upper body strength and knew that once on the floor that is where I would stay.  I persevered and found renewed.
     I still napped, the family dog was pleased.  She'd lay in my room dozing for a few weeks with me.  Finally I called the hospital to be put in touch with the patients advocate office.  The woman I wanted to speak to was unavailable.  I told the thoroughly uninterested girl on the phone my plight and how I wanted to get a visiting nurse.
     On the original paperwork the first woman gave me was a name of a place with a phone number.  The new bored girl gave me another number for them.  I called, it was disconnected.  I called the number on the list and left a message.  It didn't feel quite right, and I never did get a call back.
     I took another slow walk to the corner and ran into another neighbor.  Nice slow chat and they told me if I needed anything to call.  I cannot recall the foods I ate, but bland, low in sodium.  I was now eating small meals every 2 hours.  It was easy.  My television was in my room, the computer was till to much for me.  So I slept a lot.

Let the recovery begin.

     I really can't recollect to much but they finally told me my sister had cancer.  As of this writing she is fine and back to work, let's get that straight.  I don't recall the name exactly, but it was stage 1.  Surgery was needed.  After 50 some odd years of life, and abusing life and herself, she finally had something wrong with her.  There aren't a lot of people that have been as lucky.
     I do not recall if it was July 3rd or 4th that they took her to the hospital.  Would be the last time I'd see her until somewhere in August.  I'm going to divert back to me here.  I've already told you all ends well, and I'll throw in in here and there.
     They had given me a stapled paper about recovery from surgery at home.  I soon realized this was generic enough to be for a 10 year old to 80 year old.  Seemed to be up to me.  Walking a certain amount of time increased in increments.  No lifting anything.  Rest.  Watch pulse and temperature.  Never lifting my arms above my head.  I think that was a no no for six months, unsure.  Along with whatever you did with the right arm you should do with the left.
     Tentatively I recall moving around my house.  Terrified of over doing things, of moving wrong, and of falling.  I still had no upper body strength at all.  Also the ring finger and pinkie on my left hand were still numb and tingly.  I was told it would improve and it has.  It was the middle finger to the pinkie on my right, that one took the longest to improve back to almost normal.
     I recall the first walk I took to the corner.  I was scared.  First thought what if I was overdoing it.  Then what if I fell.  I managed it and felt good for it.  I essentially walked with my mead down, very slowly, watching the road so I didn't trip on anything.
     The memories of that day were mostly of the good feeling from the walk.  The resting.  A little on the food.  I knew ordinarily last summer, had been told all the time, it was brutally hot.  So walking would be best in morning.  I would start out with 1 a day and increase it.  Of course I started with 2 or 3.  Just to the corner, but never in the heat of the day.
     Nope, never did get a call July 3rd or July 4th from the visiting nurse care, man was I alone.  That stuff isn't over yet either.

Friday and Saturday.

     Every day my sister would call me and ask when I was coming home.  How the Hell did I know.  The patient is always the last to know, trust me on this.  I had a new visitor.
     A short woman from the patients advocate came in to see me.  Wanted to know when I was leaving and such, I told her what I just told you.  She then berated me.  On how was she supposed to help me with nursing care if I didn't know when I was being released. She may have even called me uncooperative.
     I was glad when she left.  Took a walk, that's when I saw the original woman from physical therapy, for the final time.  She just wanted to see how I was walking and missed much of it because she was conversing with some guy.  I was ready to depart.
     Saturday arrived and I was told I would be leaving today.  My reaction was shock.  They certainly didn't believe in giving much notice.  I called my sister to give her the good news.  Some bullshit argument.  She wasn't going to come and would send my brother in law.  No worries in the end she came you'll see.
     It was Saturday July 2nd 2011.  It's important for the upcoming event.  I noticed 2 woman sitting in the office of the patient advocate right across from my room.  Being proactive I walked over and explained I was going home today.  The blinked at me.  I wanted to know what they needed from me to ensure I'd have a visiting nurse.  Blink.  Not once did they ask my name, not once did they look at their computers. 
     They assured me that one would call me Sunday when I got home.  I said thank you and walked straight to my bathroom to see if STUPID was scrawled upon my forehead.  Ordinarily I might have bought it.  However, Sunday July 3rd, a 3 day freaking weekend, I knew no one would be setting up jack shit.
     I was concerned, because I knew that for the majority of my time at home I'd be alone.  Brother in law and sister worked.  What if I fell, ran a temperature, or got an infection, I was concerned and waited.
     At some point another Dr. came in and removed the final staples from my chest and I was asked if a ride was coming for me.  I said yes.  Lo and behold the dynamic duo arrived.  With 2 cheese danishes that I'd called and asked for I might add.
     A nurse came in to discuss my discharge and the medications I was to be taking.  They gave me privacy.  When she came to the Oxycontin, unsure of spelling, I stopped her.  There had been a pharmacy shooting in a town I frequent, where a guy and girl went, he went in stole the oxy's and they left.  They caught the duo.
     I simply asked her to write void on it and tear it up in front of me.  I was having no part of that, I was Tylenol all the way. 
     All set we departed.  It was a brutal summer, I'd seen that from the few weather reports and from talking to nurses on shifts.  It'd be a drive home, windows closed and air conditioning.  My brother in law pushed my sister, the nurse pushed me.  I got settled into the back seat said my goodbyes.  They settled into the car.  Before we even moved, they both lit up cigarettes.  Long ride home.
     Exhausted and glad to be home I laid down.  At some point I'd gotten up to see what there was to eat.  They'd ordered in from an Italian restaurant.  On the counter for me on a plate was a cold breaded chicken piece along with some cheese filled rigatoni noodles.  Yup fend for myself indeed.

More minutae of recovery

     I was now able to bathe myself with the pink tub alone and brush my teeth.  Still had a very hard time looking at myself in the mirror.  My room mate was departing, a good thing.  Was kind of sorry to see him go, just because he was a good sort.  Got a new one at night, guy somewhere in his 50's I think.  Nice fellow, he'd had open heart surgery too.  Again not so much interaction.
     I was getting a little bored.  One day the pulmonary Dr. came by to see me.  Just to visit and see how I was doing. I was so grateful, this was the one from the final ICU room.  I know I cried. I was glad she wasn't fired, didn't ask her any real pertinent questions, was just so glad she came by.  Hell my emotions were so touched that my brain never asked me if it was a billable visit. 
     Another way I knew I was getting better, they no longer thought my nebulizer treatment was as necessary.  And if they came in the middle of the night and I was asleep they let me be.  Even though I had said not to.  I just wanted to recover dammit.
     An angry woman came in one day, short blond hair, no glasses.  She was with rehab.  I had to piss very badly.  I mentioned it to her and she berated me.  I wasn't going to get any help if I didn't co-operate.  I stood, grabbed my urinal and proceeded to piss until she left.  It was the last I ever saw of those people.
     In some twilight I'd convinced myself that I was close by my bakery, oh how I wanted a cheese danish.  That if I just walked out I could get one and be back in no time.  Mind you it was a good 50 from the bakery.  My stomach was certainly ready.
     The nurses were great, as I said they love a patient that doesn't complain; co-operates; and wants to get out.  There were more potassium drips, hated them.  I was getting ready to get on with my life.  I no longer even needed the faithful walker that had been by my side this entire time.
     Food was becoming a bit of a chore, even breakfast, with the exception of the fruit parfait.  I mean I was literally not caring that I could have salmon twice a day.  So I began experimenting.  I tried their chicken stir fry, came with rice, wonderful, but so much.  I called the next time and asked if I could have a half portion, as there was so much of it and I despise wasting food.  I began to enjoy their pizza for lunch.
     Nothing amazing, sat upon something the size of a pita, it may have been a pita for all I knew.  Came with veggies, loved those.  I never again tried their meatloaf.  Had an Italian ice with both lunch and dinner, quite nice.  Only available in 2 flavors, lemon and cherry I seem to recall.  I stuck with the lemon.
     The next session shall begin the Friday before my discharge.

Days keep blending together

     I'd settled into a nice routine.  Breakfast, walk, chair nap, judge shows, lunch, walk, nap.  Dinner.  Room mate was in need of dialysis and to my horror they did it in the room.  Not that you saw anything but the noise of the machine was unpleasant.  He never complained.  As I stated previously it was nice that he had someone with him at all times.  We never did much but exchange pleasantries as I made my numerous trips to the bathroom. 
     Bladder control was still a hideous problem for me and I was unhappy about that most of all.  Even the floor, ugh.  I did ask if I could have my night time diuretic earlier so that I could get through the night, I was obliged.  My recovery was coming along quite nicely.
     At some point it was determined that I was severely lacking in magnesium and potassium.  The magnesium was a liquid that I mixed with some juice and wasn't terrible.  Still beat that stuff I had to mix with the Gatorade before the colonoscopy and endoscopy.  But then it was a good deal less.  The potassium was the bitch.
     It had to be administered via IV.  It burns.  I had them drag it down to it's lowest dispensing time, I'm not one who cannot handle pain.  This stuff was like a fiery acid in the vein.  Very unpleasant.  At one one I needed 3 bags.  This took a total of 6 hours.  Normally an IV drip is half of an hour.  I used my Tylenol then.  Unfortunately for the end of the second I missed the dosage and was in a lot of discomfort.  Obviously I survived.
     It was so bad, that a woman who made rounds, she was a patient came by to see me and I told her I couldn't talk.  I didn't even know her name.  Not sure why she was in there.
     We are on the last week of my hospitalization gang.  More to come but I  must check on my dinner.

Time for a visit I guess.

     The routine was set in now.  Roomie had constant company, which was good.  Not sure if anyone has ever roomed in the hospital with a constant complainer or needy person.  I have, not much fun.  This guy was good.  Really didn't know he was there except for  bathroom trips and such.
     I was getting better.  Of course no upper body strength yet, but could manage my walker nicely.  I obeyed as they asked to be escorted to the bathroom and rang for assistance when I was done.  Saturday came.
     I'd asked for some seltzer and quarters so I could buy a daily newspaper when they came around. and proof that the house bills were paid.  Cannot ordinarily trust therm with such responsibility. 
      My brother in law and sister arrived as I was eating.  After hello's my sister from the wheelchair and such.  First thing she asked was to see my scar.  I glared at her angrily and choked on my food a bit.  No never did show it to her.  Hell I still couldn't look at it.  They left and came back with some gifts.  A stuffed bear and a plant of some sort.  Used to have room in hospitals for these things, not so nowadays.  Especially not when near a window.  I checked the bills, they told me they missed me and such. 
     It was a nice effort.  They aren't the visiting type.  A word, when visiting people in the hospital, talk about almost anything.  Mundane things at home even, trust me on this one.  It is very comforting.  They couldn't manage it.  I rang for the nurse as I had to use the bathroom.   I was escorted.  In my eagerness I reckon, I got up on my own, little tumble.  Not much room to fall on your ass in those bathrooms, so I just bumped my head hard.  Rang for assistance, embarrassed I assured the nurse I would do no such thing again.  I didn't.
     They departed and I was glad for it.  Took a cell phone call or 2.  My manager called the most.  Nice guy.  At the same time he had been serving on Grand Jury duty.  No didn't talk about that.  I enjoyed those conversations.  Even teased me a bit about one of my coworkers asking for my cell phone.  He never did give it to her, but warned me that if he ever got pissed off at me enough he would.  Told him he had to now.  After all what's a nuke threat like that if you don't use it.
     Got my walks and my meals.  My magnesium levels and potassium levels were to low.  We'll get to those next time.  Later.

Roomate change and such

     Well it was time they said.  Time to remove the catheter.  I was leery but it actually  was easy.  The worst was pulling the little thing out of...well you know....hangs out with....balls.  It looks something like a chain you see on those ceiling fans.  Didn't hurt, just uncomfy.  I was happy.  Must mean I was getting better, and it seemed to me the catheter was failing, there were sheet changes involved.
     It is a difficult adjustment, I wouldn't perfect it until I got home, to now have to hold the urine til the appropriate time.  Suddenly it wasn't oh there's stuff time to empty.  It was coordinate with the body, let me know okay you have seconds before we empty.  Plus I was still on a diuretic.  All accidents occurred in my room I'm happy to say.  Tough part was the walk to the bathroom, as I was still unable to get myself up.  Once on my feet I was fine.  Can be a loooong wait. 
     My roommate was finally cleared for discharge, he was happy.  Of course I was hoping for a private room, or someone that could care for themselves.  I never saw the fellow but once.  A man from the Philippines, never any conversation between us.  The thing I liked was that he had someone with him at all times.  I'm assuming his daughter in the day, wife at night.  Never made a fuss.
      Happily I'd finally gotten the food thing down and was eating with a whole lot less choking.  Thoroughly enjoying the menu.  I had an ocean of salmon there.  They had chicken stir fry, pizza even made on a whole wheat bread thing.  I mean a lot of good food.
     Now that I was somewhat mobile, I could be helped to the bathroom.  It was very difficult to look my gaunt self in the mirror.  I was skin and bones.  Literally my collar bones seemed to be trying to escape.  I could not yet look at the chest scar.  They washed me with a warm rag, heavenly.  Oh and I even got to brush my teeth.  Took a good quarter of an inch of crud off my teeth I'm sure.
     I was even up to 3 walks now, very happy with that.  The only notable thing that occurred with my roommate was one night when he had about 7-9 people visiting.  Now I didn't mind, but visiting hours were over.  They were finishing a meal.  The nurses were annoyed and actually called security who handled it badly.  They literally said everyone had to leave NOW!  Only 1 person could remain.  The next day an apology was made, even the security guard who issued the order.
     I was watching a lot of cable now late at night.  Became aware of shows like storage wars, pawn show, and even hard core pawn the one in Detroit.  This was my main enjoyment.  I even scheduled my daily walks around the court shows I liked in the day.
     One night, it was about 11:30, I gaped in wide eyed amazement.  My surgeon came to check on me.  I said it's late Dr. shouldn't you be home. He really was a top notch guy, he made rounds before he left for the day.  I'm assuming he does this on nights when he does not have surgery the next morning.
     Another night the cardiologist came for a visit.  The one who admitted me, again 11:30.  Really a great couple of Dr.s.  I did ask if I could have my diuretic moved to an earlier time so I could get some sleep and he said they would.
     Next installment will be family visit. 

Days blend.

     In the hospital the main way to mark passage of time are the changing of shifts.  I believe that occurs every 6-7 hours, with the head nurses changing at about the 8th hour.  Times could be off.  The hour between the shift change is the one to definitely avoid.
     The new shift is being told what has previously happened and such.  Nurses are scattered and preparing, basically I tried not to need anything in this hour.  Just took longer, but then I had patience.  Most don't.
     Every shift starts and ends with vitals, plus at least once or twice during each shift.  So don't plan any deep sleeping.  The new shift comes on and they introduce themselves, get some background, and such.  You say good night or day, whatever to the outgoing.  Especially if they come in to say say it, and in my case with few visitors I was always glad to see people.
     Morning, usually begins about 7, probably why I also ordered breakfast then huh?  Vitals, hello's, general pleasantries.  How are you feeling?  Any pain, if so on a scale of 1-10?  Do you need anything?  Check on the medications you need, in my case numerous.  Usually always mentioned a walk, kind of like a dog wanting out I reckon.  They leave, food arrives.  Somewhere pills start, always seemed to be waiting on the pharmacy for pills.
     Dr.s start coming and going furiously doing their rounds from 7:01 until about 12 noon.  I'd get a walk, after breakfast and after the shift change.  They started sitting me in a chair as well which was a nice change of pace for me.  One of those reclining model ones.  I wasn't as cold as I was entering the hospital.  I usually napped a bit before lunch.  More recuperation after surgery than boredom, at first. 
     Wake up, had lunch between 12-2.  Sometimes got an afternoon walk.  I was still wobbly but steadier on my feet.  The issue was still my upper body strength, I just couldn't get up by myself it seemed.  Afternoon shift change, more vitals, usually no nap after lunch.  Dinner I often ordered between 5-6 I recall.  Thing was here, they actually called you if you didn't order dinner.  Kid of thought that was cool.
     Dinner, some television, stuff like that.  Random sleep, with interruptions for vitals to be checked.  Never a real dull moment actually. 

Slowly but surely I get better

     Time moved rather slowly.  Days broken up mostly by meals.  Occasional calls from family.  Worse were the ones from my sister.  Why?  Because they'd always start with when was I getting out.  What did the Dr.s have to say.  Rapid fire questions.  I still remember one time her getting upset, yelling at me,  I was trying to catch my breath, she said she wouldn't call ever again and slammed the phone down.  Ugh. 
     Not that I've a temper, but I can be quick.  You often have to with her.  I got my composure and called her back.  Reamed her out slowly and using as many single syllable words as I could.  I believe she got the point.  Said they were coming to see me over the weekend and asked what they could bring me.  Pretty much just said some seltzer bottles.
     I was getting sick of the drink choices in the hospital.  They had your juices, I grabbed a decaf tea with every meal, and either white rock cola or ginger ale, oh and of course water.  Now I am a fan of ginger ale, don't mind it at all.  Once in awhile.  I am however seltzer lover.  No sugar, no crap, just some nice good bubbles.  They didn't have it in the hospital.
     Breakfast was good.  Nice part of the regular room was that I could order at 7 sharp.  Tea, of course my favorite yogurt parfait they make, and tried their various breakfasts.  That was served until 10 I  think.  Lunch and dinner could be ordered up until 7 at night.  Same menu.  Mostly had soft stuff, and glad to say, salmon is very soft.  I mean come on, if you could have salmon twice a day wouldn't you, provided you ate fish.
     Stayed away from the meatloaf until I absolutely had to.  They had many soups, they made there, nothing to write home about.  Or maybe I just plain got sick of them too.  Like I'd previously posted eating was tricky, I really was just sore, but oh so hungry.  At the very least the food was enjoyable.
     Happily the pulmonary Dr. came down to see me, was glad to see her.  I really was worried about her job, but think I just broke down, not ashamed to admit it.  Things were okay, she was just concerned to see how I was.  Last time I saw her.  And no I never asked her about the things that went on in that ICU room either.  Just not as sharp in the hospital I reckon.

Meetings may be short thunderstorms may be coming.

     I want to say it was my first day, possibly the second.  I met with what I think is called Patient relations.  Patricia was the woman's name.  Very nice woman.  She was in charge of making sure that when I as discharged to set up visiting nurses and see how I was generally doing in the hospital.  She gave me a list, checked on my insurance and circled the 1 place that would most likely accept me.  The bad thing.  After today she was going on vacation, forget where, I seem to think Hawaii, but I always think that.  Maybe the optimist in me wants the best for everyone.
     A blond woman, wore glasses, skinny, very nice came in.  She was with patient rehab.  This would be our only meeting as it turned out.  She told me of exercises, gave me advice.  I told her my concern about lack of upper body strength and inability to get myself out of bed.  She did mention that she would tell me how and I should get the measurement of how high my bed at home was so we could practice at the hospital.  Promises, promises.  Told her I was walking and she said that was good.
     On my cell phone was a call from my cousin from Florida.  Long story short wanted to know how I was and such.  Had come up to New York on a working trip.  We should keep in touch, left me her cell phone number.  Unfortunately on my phone it doesn't keep old messages more than 7 days.  Oh sure it does now, but not then.

Regular room time

     I was wheeled into a room, sadly not by the window, that was occupied.  A man I would gauge about anywhere in his 50's to 60's, I remember no names.  Nice guy.  Seemed he'd had a defibrillator put in.  Unsure if it was surgery or there was a problem.  Wasn't much of a bother, I was probably more to him.  He had a wife, hard to describe.  She wore glasses, old style big hair, but her teeth.  Lots of them, long but narrow, she was pleasant.
     He was annoyed and wanted to be released, oh how I knew those days.  One of his problems was that he never asked the right questions when the Dr.s came by.  He'd call and bitch and moan to his wife and she'd make phone calls or come by and get answers.
     The room was much smaller, I was still on the catheter, sure now I remember the word.  So bathroom wasn't much of an issue yet.  Called for a bed pan and such.  Could order any food.  They did have to give me an injection to somehow increase or enlarge my esophagus, always had a small one.  And I just didn't get the fact that I had to grind the food to nothing before trying to swallow.
     That caused a lot of foul noises from me, felt bad for the roommate.  We'd talk a bit now and then.  He had owned some sort of business, now retired.  Just wanted to get the Hell out of the hospital.  I tried my best but as of yet still only could manage monosyllabic words for short times.  Still had that wonderful rasp in my normally shrill voice I can't stand. 
     The nurses were awesome.  Told me I had to walk.  Told them I'd like to get in at least 2 a day, more if possible, they liked that.  Generally patients who are easy going and want to recover seem to be a favorite I think.  My roommate still had tantrums at times.  More than once was close to signing himself out of the hospital.  Always a bad idea.
     You of course always can sign yourself out against Dr.s orders.  However, that can mean the insurance companies won't cover much and you may be left with the bulk of the bill.
     The walks were tough but I enjoyed them, at first someone holding on to me just in case.  In my emaciated condition, do not know my weight yet, an elderly person could of carried me I think.
     At one point a Dr. from the defibrillator came in, wanted to adjust the roomies one.  Long story short roomie wasn't approving, worse, the Dr. couldn't figure out how to work the machine.  So he left.  And life went on it's merry way.

ICU days

     So began my long days in ICU.  In case you've been fortunate enough to have never been, you don't actually get much rest.  But I was eager to start regaining what I could.  The television had been turned on, and with my glasses I could see once again the vapid waste land of day time television.  One of my very nice, and yes cute nurses, was fond of some sort of name that tune in so many notes show.  I very much enjoyed walking with her.
     To begin with, for obvious reasons, I had no upper body strength, getting up was difficult and I required assistance.  A walker was brought for me and I was thrilled at the idea of a few steps.  Up to this point I had been doing some leg exercises in bed as well, just to help them along.  I was fairly steady on my feet but need the walker.
     The bag, for....uh....liquids.....hint, was clipped to it.  The nurse called it my bling, made me chuckle. It was a slow tenuous stretch.  They would only let me do so much at a time and I relented.  This after all was their profession and line of expertise.  I never did get to see who the person I still think I booted out of the room was.  They did however have security and a lot of visitors.  Guess I was to concerned with my own well being to ask.  At one point I did see the cup I wrote on, on top of a station, sure gave someone a good laugh.
     Meals.  As I said the food here was great.  I did however always check that the other room had already ordered and received theirs.  I wanted to brook no more trouble.  Mostly soft things, swallowing was not easy as it was still close to being off the respirator.  Think it had been in about 10 or 11 days, unsure.
     Nebulizer stuff, I did everything asked.  I was very serious about wanting my life back.  Pulmonary visits.  Occasional other worldly looking Dr.s glancing at me confused and passing me on.  This was clearly a single room, a rarity in any ICU, perhaps reserved for more important people.
     My walks got a bit longer, my leg strength was returning nicely, a little wobbly and def needing the walker.  Each time I would see the Head Pharmacist I would turn the another direction, I did not want to cross him.
     Sounds strange I'm sure, but I truly think I was beginning to enjoy my little fiefdom.  Like all things it was not to last.  The dude with glasses who wanted me out of my last room now wanted me out of ICU and into a regular room.  Checked on me, in all fairness he was a nice guy, seemed genuinely concerned.  Even when I spat up a little something, he insisted it be taken to the lab, to make sure it was just mucous and not an infection.  It was just mucous.
     Sadly it was time for me to go to a regular room.  It was a rushed affair.  They even had to remove some staples from my chest before I was allowed to go.  A room was found and we just awaited transport.  Wouldn't you know it, it was the same woman that transported me back when I'd had the colonoscopy endoscopy.  Farewell private room.

Unsure

     There are little things I keep forgetting.  Not all that critical I suppose.  I have however not abandoned, just been busy.  Tonight should be a 2 entry night.  And 2 tomorrow as well.  And we shall continue a bit into my recovery as well. 

Let us begin the recovery.

     Took awhile, but most seemed to get the point that I was not who was supposed to be in the room.  One of the cleaning crew came in, squinted his eyes at me, I just said switched rooms.  Nope, no one seemed to be telling me anything.
     At this point someone with glasses came in.  Dressed up in a suit, glared at me harshly.  Never said a word.  Left the room, nurse wasn't there.  I saw him pick up my several pound file and heard yelling.  I recall him saying he wanted to know what the Hell was going on.  He'd come in specifically today for the other person.  I seem to hazily recall a lot of arguing.
     My concept of time was nil and void, even if there was a clock I couldn't have been able to see it.  Later he returned, used my full name and promised to take good care of me.  It was chilling.  Worse yet, he was the main main in charge of the pharmacy.  I was firghtened.  Did I tell anyone, of course not.
     Well I finally inquired about my items that I left when I went in for surgery, some weeks ago.  Most notably my glasses and cell phone.  These could not be located.  It took quite a lot of time.  The nurse who was on duty on the other side of step down came in and questioned me.  I told her I gave them my stuff and it was inventoried.
     Unsure when, next day or not it was located.  2 bags.  I contained my urine soaked slippers which I told them to throw out the day of the incident.  The other my folder and my cell phone and most happily my glasses.  I COULD SEE AGAIN.  The room was large for ICU standards.  And there were windows.  The room that I thought the woman was staring at me from, angrily, turned out to be a supply room.  They turned on my T.V.
     Room service became a routine.  I would not order until I was sure the other room ordered first and was delivered.  The man delivering the food would always assure me when it was safe to do so.  I wanted to cause no more fuss.  I just wanted to start my recovery.
     Every day on duty began with the angry man with glasses coming in and assuring me he'd take good or excellent care of me.  Again this was my only fearfull time of this.  Belive it or not, I was more concerened he'd neglect someone else because of the furor I'd inadverdently caused.  Nothing ever happened as far as I know.

The weirdness keeps coming.

     Foggily I lifted my head.  The room had grown immensely.  There was a pillow on it, I swear that it had the presidential seal on it. I rose, I had to get back to my own room.  Someone came in and insisted where I thought I was going.  Back to my room I insisted back, saying this was not my room.  Upon asking me whose room I thought it was I said I didn't know, but it wasn't mine.
     There was now a television, to the right was a window and a corridor.  A little further was what I thought was an office.  I swore someone was in there in a chair glaring at me.  Mind you I still didn't have my glasses.  I may have suggested that I was in Bush's room.  I just wasn't in mine.  I really thought the person seemed like secret service, didn't seem like an ICU attendant at all.
 "This is your room."
"Is it?  Have I been here all along?"
No answer.
"If this is my room can I get a soda?"
"What kind?"
"Ginger ale would be nice"
"Sure" as I settled a woman, def not a nurse entered to keep an eye on me.  Me?  Well If I was now able to get more than ice chips, Hell it was my room.
I settled down.  Got my ginger ale, sipped it oh so slowly and enjoyed every damned bubble.  They gave me a cola after that.  I asked that I be given another cola and a cup.  On it I wrote, damn the room number I know I wrote it, can no longer recall it.  Something about the better man.  I really thought George Bush somehow had co-opted my room and left me here.  Back into the uneasy unconciousness I slid.
     Less of the dropping through the floor, I think I actually slept.  I remember waking.  The nurse, the one who spoke sternly to me was outside giving my records to the new person.  Smiling knowingly, something felt amiss, very wrong.  I asked if I was allowed food and they said yes, goodness I was hungry.  And how I loved this hospitals food.  I ordered what I could.  Egg whites and a bit of yogurt I think.  Some Dr. paused outside my door, looked perplexed at me, checked the room number and asked the nurse.  He then proceeded to another room.  Never saw this Dr. again. 
     There was a brown, leather looking menu thing I saw breifly, never saw it again.  Breakfast was brought to me.  Not at all what I ordered.  Eggs yes, no yougurt, some farina, a piece of cake.  The man who brought it was the same fellow who had brought me my food in the ER overflow just before I had to forgo it, in a previous posting.  Before the endoscopy and colonoscopy.  No difference, it was food and I ate it slowly.
     There were more passerbys who looked in my room curiously, like I didn't belong there.  As if to say to themselves "who in the Hell is thiis?"  They would question and be directed to another room where the other Dr. had gone.  This went on for a bit.  Then there was a yell.
"What the Hell is this, I didn't order this!"  from the afforementioned room. 
      Basically the room, for discussion sake was 235, I was in now 235a.  The person got my breakfast.  The attendant came in, who brought me my breakfast and asked.  I gutturally said I ate my breakfast, was it someone elses?  I asked if I needed to aplogize.
     Another crew started, and there were more stares as to who was I.  The nurse outside of my room seemed to be doing a whole lot of explaining.  Then more confused Dr.s.  I began to just direct people to the nurse outside.  I had no idea afterall, no one was telling me shit.

What dreams may come.

     This part gets strange.  I remember this vividly.  2 I figured to be dreams, the third of course has to be but I cannot totally reconcile it.
     Dream 1.  Involves George Bush senior.  Something vaguely about one time holding off the homestead singing about the Cherry pie Mrs. Bush made.  Pits somehow were involved.  It was a very quaint building I can recall.  Never saw the pie.
     Dream 2.  On the prairie or some sort a plane dropped a bottle cap.  Sort of the kind of thing from the movie "The Gods must be crazy."  In any case he was so enraged he followed the plane.  He found the man at his home and read him the riot act about littering as he handed him the bottle cap.  I recall the man being astonished.
     Not weird enough?  The final act, maybe hallucination from the ice chips, who knows.  The gala downstairs was in full swing.  People in fancy dress, tuxedos and such.  From under my bed came a miniature train which I rode.  Straight through the party, it was fun.  Passing through the crowd.  Someone was in front, I think it was the cardiologist who admitted me.  In the door came my regular cardiologist, who called to the Dr.  The train raced on back upstairs.  I could see the controls being used in a room by....George Bush senior.  Back in bed I went.
     I awoke now.  Startled.  The room was very unfamiliar to me.

'I FOGOT HOW TO......"

     Sorry got busy but am back to continue.  Night of the respirator removal now continues.
     Carefully and cautiously, was watching my every breath.  Not to fast, not to slow, oh the things we take for granted in our daily lives huh?  Had an oxygen mask on, practicing my breathing.  A man from respiratory came in, rushed, for my first ever nebulizer treatment.  Essentially it was treatment to help my lungs, clear any fluid and such.  It is not painful, just a mist you have to breath in deeply.  He unhooked my mask and started the treatment and said he'd be back in a few minutes when it was done.  I was doing my best.  Now I'm not sure exactly what took place, I think I wasn't getting enough oxygen and had a slight panic attack.  Especially because I had to pee.  I rang for the nurse.  She came with 2 people and I was not at my best.
In my best panicky way I said..."I have to pee and I can't.  What's wrong."  mind you I am saying this gutturally and agitatedly.
"John!" she said sternly. "Never let anyone take off your oxygen, you JUST got off a respirator and do not want to go back on.  Do not do this again!  Also, you have a catheter tube, stop trying to pee, it will go on it's own." 
"oh...thank you" I said relaxing as she put the oxygen back on my face.  I don't recall seeing the nebulizer dude again that night.  And yes, once I relaxed, the catheter began to do its job as well.
     Finally the tube in my nose was to come off.  That did hurt a little.  I asked why they kept letting the green liquid go back in me.  "That has been your nutrition."
Never did ask why the Hell it as green.
     They started letting me have ice chips.  Oh the gloriousness of them.  I was cautioned not to have to many or I'd get sick.  And it could cause me to have to go back on the respirator which they said would not be good.  All they would give me is ice chips.
     I think another night started to pass, so lost in time when you're in that place.  Had some wonderful nurses.  Oh and I should mention that, with the nutrition tube explained, except for the color.  It made sense to me why I was still having the need to poop.
     At some point I rang the bell, and the 2 that were with the nurse who spoke to me above came.  I needed the bed pan.  They obliged me.  It didn't feel right and I mentioned it to me.  They said, I think gleefully, don't worry about it, if there's a mess we'll be the ones cleaning it.
     Well I was right.  Not only was it backwards, but one check was on and the other off.  Yup SPILL IN AISLE 1.  Was all in good nature.
     I still remember some stern conversation from one Dr. with glasses and 2 of the nurses of the pulmonary sort.  He really wanted me out of this room.  I remember his yelling at the other Dr. as well from earlier, hope I covered that.
     It was about me being out and taken off the respirator previously.  Before the meeting with the disenchanted rugby woman.  I still somehow thought that the room I was in was to be used somehow in an affair the hospital as having.
     I think I nodded off.

After much debate the respirator is removed.

     Whether it was just the fruition of my own apprehension, or an actual get me out of this room discussion.  It seemed they wanted me off the respirator and out of the room.  They came and took ex rays of my lungs and such and decided to remove it, after a second set of ex rays actually.  Where technically the female rugby drop out of a technician sort of roughed me up.  Pulled me forward slid plate behind, when done, took plate and sort of just let me fall back heavily.  This knocked the tube in my mouth and nose a bit.  In fact I recall something being broken.
     Look, I'm not going into the respirator removal.  Yes it is a little unpleasant, but hell it's just plain wonderful to have it out.
     The concern was now to have me breath normally.  Somehow this was not a thing I comprehended easily.  Not to fast, not to slow, "you don't want to have to go back on..."  they said.
     So for awhile I was concerned with every little breath I took.  Go figure.  Speech was slightly possible, raw of throat, exhaustion, and of course remembering to breathe.  I was under observation for awhile.  Breathing as normally as I thought I could.  People of medical aspects came and went.  I breathed.
     They even began leaving my hands untied, while they were about me, which was nice.  I'd become so accustomed that I'd remind them to tie them when they'd leave.  Breathing was getting easier to master.  Memories and the time line are going to blur together for me a bit.  I'm going to stop here.

Observations.

     I sit here, actually wondering how I can recall so much of this clearly.  This is unusual for me.  Oh and we've passed my year anniversary of this said surgery.  I will say I'm enjoying putting this down.  Though the timeline may seem off, it does for me.
     The memories of what transpired are still there.  And it gets better.  Understand I don't mean to say I think on this every day.  As a writer, or a frustrated writer, I do love a story.  Stories that go unwritten always stay with me, until the end.  Maybe this is why I have retained so much of this.  I am enjoying writing this and hope some one will read, and maybe even find it useful or entertaining at the least.

Moving along

     The room seemed small.  I must say that I believe this was my second week, of course there was no way to measure time.  The crew that was there were terrific.  Even trying to communicate with me.  Perhaps it was all the anesthesia, I truly don't know.
     Monitor was to my left.  Door was my right.  In front of me was wall and a flat screen television.  To the left of the television I thought were windows and also on the left side. 
     Some pulmonary Dr.s and assistants came, there were talking about removing the respirator in a day or two.  I was even given a board on which I tried to write.  Normally my writing is chicken scratch, but with arms tied even worse.  In my nose also was a tube, some vile green looking substance.  I assume it was green, and I assumed it was mucus.  It turned out to be a feeding thing, why that color I'll never know.  But grossed me out immensely.  It also answers why I was pooping so much.  Bless my body and the way it is.
     I recall one day a woman walking through, she was not a nurse.  Seemed annoyed I was in the room and one of the nurses commented on it.  She came back and I vaguely recall that she was stern.  Something about how she was in charge of an event that was happening and it was a mass benefit to the hospital and such.  She wanted me out of my room.  Another oddity, I remember a UPS driver.  Now no UPS driver would be making deliveries to ICU, but it was for the event.  Weirder still, I thought it was the dude that comes to my work site. 
     No I never asked, it made no sense.  See I work 20 minutes from the hospital, in another county, and he would not be there.  It was then I saw the dude with glasses, no not mine, he wore glasses.  Wanted to know why I was there and had not been removed from the respirator.  I didn't much like him.  He seemed to yell at the head pulmonary Dr. and I thought I heard yelling.  Later there was a heavy set man at the monitors on my left.  He was doing something with my monitors.  In my mind erasing history, but I'm not sure.  There was some more lively discussion about my coming off the respirator.

And it continues....

     The blond nurse, not sure if I've mentioned her before.  I was in a little more of a ward environment, in my fogginess.  She'd deliver the message.  At times she'd brush my teeth, apparently some sort of pneumonia prevention.  I can recall, oddly, the need of a bed pan.  In fact on my brother in law and sisters second visit, I was desperately trying to use it.  I remember being told they were outside.  Not sure of anything else.
     Now this must surely be fog, but it is my memory.  The blond woman was watching another nurses 2 kids at her station.  Needing attention and bed pan, I was denied.  I sunk into another abyss.
     I awoke in a war torn place in my bed.  It felt like an office building.  There were windows, I was sure war.  On either side stood nurses in what I was sure was Mideastern garb.  For some reason I felt I'd been convicted wrongly and they were going to give me a vasectomy.  I was frightened as none spoke to me.  At some point I recall being....rescued.
     I awoke in a new room.  Solitary again.  But this was newer and the nurses spoke to me.  As I've stated, try as I could to communicate, they simply couldn't understand me with the respirator in.  This must have been my second week in either CCU or ICU.  But they were friendly.  In fact I remember one being aghast that I'd not been cleaned at all and took the time to do that.  I was gratefully.
     I had a nurse stationed outside of my room.  I was now beginning to actually sleep, the sinking sensation had slowly, reluctantly begun to loose its grip upon me.  Still without my glasses.  Lots of blurs.  This is what I seemed to know of my surroundings.
     I was in a ward type.  There was a desk outside, and something that seemed to resemble a walk in fridge beyond that.  I began to think there was ice cream there.  Odd huh?  Still confined to bed, couldn't see, respirator, but glad the sinking had abated.

Through the wabbit hole.....

    I changed rooms yet again.  This time however, I had a back story.  I was on the main street of my town and went to the Dr.'s office.  The building of course being across the street from my Dr. in actuality, actually across and down to the north a little I think.
     It was dark.  The floor had running lights, cordoned off from the chairs in the waiting room.  I was going to be left here.  I panicked a tad.
     In the land of coherence and reality, something was going on around me.  Desperately in the same dark room I tried to communicate with the nurse I could see behind me.  The is no coherence for speaking with a tube down your throat.  The nurse was a soft faced woman with glasses, not the blond yet, frizzy hair and truly tried to understand.
     Panicked as I was.  I needed to know where I was.  I needed to be in a hospital.  Not left in an office that closes for the night.  I tried to convey where was I?  Can I see some ID so I can at least rest.  The woman did her best.  She had no idea what I was going through but she was calming, just doing her rounds I reckon now.  I was however terrified. 
     My surroundings were unfamiliar.  I was convinced I was in an office.  And I wanted out.  I must've just plain tired myself out and sunk into that abyss that I'd been going to, in a wonderfully terrified state.
     I'm going to end it here.  The next set needs a little set up I think.  We are far from over yet.

Foggy dreamins.....

     Might I mention I've no idea if there was a television in my rooms yet or if one was even on.  The dream of the 'toilet' room was of course odd.  On a spaceship.  Piloted by rabbits.  Evil rabbits.  No can't remember if I was one of them.  But they had the notable goal of wanting to....ready for it.....take over the world. 
     Also of note, they moved in slow motion.  For those would understand the reference, kind of like 6 million dollar man slow, just when he began to run, and they'd give you that music to kind of say 'HEY BIONIC MAN IS RUNNING'.  Anyway.
     No conclusion, started to try to fight the sinking sensation more, to no avail.  Back to another room.  Quite frankly I do still believe I was moved quite a bit.  At first seemed to be the room with 4 beds, now 2.  Some sort of foggy dream of party or gala going on downstairs.  There was a pool outside my window, can still vaguely recall it.
     Like one of those resort balconies almost.  But was an elevator.  I know it was a club scene because of the music and my actually descending through this place.
     At some point, had to be the weekend, my brother in law and sister apparently visited me.  I was still so foggy.  The only part I recall is giving her the finger on the way out.  A personal thing.  According to her she was tickling my tied down arm in order to get a reaction from me.  She also wanted a thumbs up.
     The thumbs up was a personal thing between me and my parents.  I guess even  my subconscious knew that I wasn't going to give them that.  Of course my brother in law assured my sister that I gave them a thumbs up as he wheeled her away, but she didn't see it.  I don't recall that, the finger yes, that I recall.  As I said my daily contact was that annoying message, didn't change, and one nurse I'll cover next entry, said in a heinously mocking way.  So it didn't cheer me at all.
     Dang I've time this morning, and this stuff is flowing.  Just for noting, it was somewhere near 4 in the morning when I started up again here.  Not what ever time they offer.

What dreams may come.....

     Without my glasses, unable to communicate with a respirator tube down my throat, I peered out of the anesthetic.  No recollection at all of the recovery room.  Like a floater on a fishing line that at the waters surface I came and went.
     First memories.  I would literally sink a feeling I loathe when over tired.  I couldn't distinguish it at first but at some point I did.  Consciousness, then the sinking feeling where I could feel myself even dropping 'through the floor' of myself.  There was no fighting it or the dreams that came.
     Seem to recall a room.  4 beds.  I was the only patient.  Slowly it seemed to become like an ante room to a club at the hospital.  I can still recall the table to the upper right of me.  (lying down, feet forward, just for atmosphere you know.)  Even remember them leaving keys, some sort of tape, and knife that I wanted to keep.  The room clears I'm watching the keys.  Consciousness briefly.
     At these points I felt helpless.  Every day I'd get a message from my sister that said; "she loved me very much and missed me terribly"  It was irritating and annoying and I couldn't stand it.  This was my daily contact for awhile.  I just wanted to be told information, couldn't ask because of tube down my throat.  Couldn't write yet because of hands being tied, yes tied.  To the side of each railing.  Not tightly or painfully, just frustratingly enough later on.
     They were necessary.  No explanation was offered if I ever tried to disconnect myself.  And if so, when they explained I was to mired in the fogs to discern it all.
     At another point I awoke in a tiny room.  Seemed disgusting, remember a presence.  The room looked like it was under construction.  Off not far to my left was a solitary toilet.  Very weird.
     I will end this post here.  Think you are getting the flavor of it.