When The Body Tries To Warn You – Part 5
(image created via ChatGPT)
Again, I need you to read the prior parts of this story so you can appreciate where the next parts of this story are headed.
Once I was taken off of the respirator, I could feel things accelerating. Joe had come into my room to inform me that I would likely be leaving the ICU before the end of the day, heading to the step down level of cardiac care. While it was routine for him to see I am sure, for me, everything was just happening so fast. And I definitely did not feel as if I was “better.”
So it had to be another twelve hours, as Jackie had come back into my room. She was organizing all of the equipment around me a particular way, which I thought was odd. And then she told me, I was being moved from the ICU. Good news for sure, and then she told me how.
“We want our patients out of the bed, and to start walking as soon as able.” Huh? You know I just had open heart surgery, right? I am so weak. I have zero strength. “So, your first walk is going to be to your room. We will follow behind you with a wheelchair in the event you need to sit down…” Sit down? You think? You are out of your mind if you think I can do that. “I will tell you, it is a fairly long walk, especially considering, but I know you can do it. I know you want to do it.” Minutes later, in came a wheelchair and an entire crew or posse.
It took several minutes just to get me to sit up at the edge of the bed, and I was exhausted already. With a group of people all around me, I was asked, let us know when you are ready. As if on cue, one of my greatest defense mechanisms, music started playing in my head. It was the perfect moment, the theme from the movie Rocky was now playing in my head. I was sckooched forward to the edge of the bed, my feet touching the floor for the first time in what felt like two days. And then two of the group stood on each side of me, positioned the wheelchair at the ready, and asked, “you ready?” And I said, “let’s do this.” And the music got louder, more triumphant, more inspirational. I had survived my heart surgery, and these were the first steps I was taking. I stood up from the bed, a nurse on either side of me, supporting my elbows, and then just like in the Christmas special, it was one foot in front of the other. As I exited my room in the ICU, I was given instructions which way to turn. Again, I was warned that I had a lengthy walk ahead of me, the length of two football fields in total.
At the elevator was the halfway mark. As we boarded the elevator, I was encouraged to have a seat in the wheelchair, at least until we got to the next floor. I wanted no parts of that, afraid that once I sat down I would not get back up. Soon the elevator doors opened up, I turned to my right, and there was the next hall. It was definitely a long hallway, and my room was the last one room on the left. Everyone seemed amazed at how well my stamina was holding up. I am certain I was running on adrenaline. Halfway down the hall, one of my nurses explained to me, that I should try to walk this floor at least three times a day, with supervision of course, and then eventually they would have me doing stairs. That was a mistake to tell me as I am a goal driven person, and in spite of how horrible I felt, I knew what I wanted to accomplish to feel better.
By the time I got to my room, I was asked if I would like to sit for a while in the chair or if I wanted to just get comfortable in the bed. I was exhausted. It was a no-brainer. I needed a nap.
I finally had a window, I could see sunshine again. And I could also see what else remained of my Frankenstein contraption with all the tubes and wires. I was starting to figure out which did what and went where. My pain was becoming more managable and more importantly, I got to order my meals off of a menu.
And for the first time, with lesser pain, I began to think of my daughters again. I needed to at least talk to them, let them know I was okay. I definitely was not in any kind of shape for them to see me yet. Oh, how I missed them.
Like I said, things would start to move quickly, especially now that I was in a private room. It was time to remove one of my chest tubes, and the leads in my picc line that measured my heart’s actual blood pressure. The chest tube removal was weird in that my abodmen’s discomfort was because of all of the tubing under the skin. And just like removing my breathing tube, an exhale and the tube was removed and a couple of butterfly strips were applied to close up the hole left behind. Now the leads, that was a different story. I would feel these being pulled from my heart through one side of my body, across the top of my shoulders to the exit of the picc line. It did not hurt, but man it felt weird. And finally, a small electronic box was placed around my neck. It was a portable telemetry device to monitor my heart rate, which was clearly a sign, that I was expected to go for some walks. I did not need to be told twice. But I found out there were going to be some ground rules. I was not allowed to walk alone, for fear of falling. With my chest being split open, a fall would be devastating. The next rule was mine.
Anyone who has ever stayed in a hospital, knows that there are constant interruptions all hourse of the day and night. I think I was on my 3rd night (like I said, I lost my sense of time in the ICU), and finally getting some good sleep. It was around 4am, and someone came into my room, and told me that I needed to get up out of the bed, I needed to be weighed. Riiiiiiggggghhht, at 4am? “Ok, but since you are getting me out of bed, I think I may as well knock out my first walk of the day.” The tech was like, “you can’t do that, you need to be accompanied by someone.” And I said, “right, that would be you.” And she said, “I can’t, first I am not supposed to, and second I don’t have the time.” So I replied, “then we are going to have a problem. If I get out of this bed, at 4am, I am making it worth my while and going for a walk, with or without someone.” And with that, she walked out of the room, and I went back to sleep. My sleep was never disturbed again the rest of my stay, or at least they were more quiet and gentle about it.
The next day, my remaining two chest tubes were removed, as well as that catheter. And let me tell you, that was a weird feeling, and as much catheter tubing that was up the old man plumbing, I don’t even want to think about how they got it all the way up there. All that was left was my picc line. For a brief moment, I thought it was going to come in handy. I had begun to run a fever. Following heart surgery, this is a pretty good sign I was dealing with an infection. So, in came the blood tech and I was all brave like, “okay, here you go, this will be easy with the line,” making reference that they would not have to deal with my difficult veins having this line. “I’m sorry sir, but to do a culture, we need a clean site, in fact two separate clean sites.” I responded, “then you better get a whole lot of help.” I was not kidding, the first draw took 9 attempts and three techs. The second stab did not take as many attempts, but was still stressful.
I was bored. I had already gotten two walks in so far for the day, and I would likely get more in. But located next to my room, was a stairway. And I remembered that I was told that sometime during my recovery, they would have me do the stairs. Well… I was feeling pretty good, bored, but no one was around for me to bug to let me do the stairs. I wasn’t plugged in, so I could just get out of bed with the telemetry box. As I peeked out of the room, I didn’t see anyone in the halls at all. Ok, I wasn’t going to take that much time. I just wanted to see if I could do a few stairs. Into the stairwell I went. I took my time, one step at a time, and found it was actually fairly easy for me. And I kept climbing. Next thing you know, I was at the top of the first landing. I wanted to go further, and so I began climbing the next set of stairs. I got halfway up the next flight, and I heard a door slam open. “MR. EDELMAN! ARE YOU IN HERE?!?” Busted. “Mr. Edelman, please stay right there. You aren’t supposed to be in here, let alone by yourself… blah blah blah.” She was overlooking the obvious, I did it! And it felt good!
And that was how my room got moved to directly in front of the nurse’s station. But even that did not stop me from getting scolded some more. April is hockey playoff month. And the Flyers, my team, was pushing for the playoffs. I had been put on a “no sports” watch for fear of my heart rate or blood pressure going crazy. But I thought, if I kept the volume down, they would never know if I was watching. Right? Riiiigggghhht? After all, I can watch a game calmly and reserved. I was betrayed by my heart, as a nurse came rushing in with my heart rate over 110 as I was laying in my bed. Off went the TV. I had heard the Flyers won anyway.
I was finally starting to feel human again. I was feeling better, and felt I was getting stronger. I was getting back to myself. There was just one more thing I needed to do.
My daughters.
Paul's Heart 