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.

Before we begin...

     What follows is some of the most haunting parts of my surgery.  Haunting because I'm not always so sure what was and was not.  I've done a bit of research and find no real good explanations.
     I wish to put these things in order.  This are just my recollections, with a good bit of fantasy around it.  You will be able to tell, even though I shall point out which I thing is which.
     There will be no discussion of pain, for I was not in pain or on pain medications.  Nor will there be much....in the way of.....medical talk.
     Let me start by saying my first 3 OPH surgeries, I ran extremely high temperatures because of the anesthesia.  We're talking 104 range if I remember being told.  My experiences were varied then.
     The first I vaguely remember being there.  Old fashioned ventilator, on which to this day I can still remember watching with fascination when I somehow got hiccups.  Remember a older roommate named Barney, he'd had a bypass, be lieing to you if I told you I remembered how much.  Cannot simply remember much more, don't think I stayed to long.
     The second.  This was under the auspices of my new pediatric cardiologist, whom I refer to as the butcher of my life.  That is another story.  He kept me in ICU for over a week.  This was when hospitals didn't even have t.v. in rooms then. Best 2 memories there was that I was rarely alone.  There was an amazing blue eyed baby named Tommy I think, all the nurses loved him.  My surgeon, who did all 3 of my surgeries came to see me.  I was chipper, a little anxious.  I remember him smiling, saying we'll get you out of here, outside of the room yelling, "Get me, dumb asses name here, on the phone!  There's no reason to have him in ICU over a week!"  Bless that dude.
     First 2 surgeries I was in the hospital minimum 4 months after surgery.
     Third, I remember almost nothing.  In and out of of the hospital a day to a week. 
     There are little memories I could recall I suppose.  Friends, nurses vaguely.  Myself being a wretched being I think.  The excruciating boredom of a child being held in a hospital.  Oh there is so much more, but I digress.
     In conclusion I shall give you the best description I can of ICU as I remember it, and of course the rest of my stay.  Until then.