Wherein I am the whiniest asshole in whinytown

All was going according to plan. i got my Xanax and my ambien and floated off into sleepy town. Then at midnight they woke me up to check vitals, then restless legs kicked in, then some future rocket scientist of America starts running a goddam floor buffer outside in the hall. It is at this point my heparin drip machine starts with its goddam beep beep beep for some phantom non existent issue, and I call the nurse to shut it up so I don't need to burn the hospital down. I tell them I need something to put me back to sleep. They ask whomever they ask. I am denied. It is at this point I burst into tears like a total asshole because I am tired but simultaneously upset, and hurty because my right hand has been stuck so many times I can barely move my pinky finger and the entire top of my hand is being encroached upon by a hideous green bruise and I am DONE and the last fucking thing I want to do is lay here awake and think all about what awaits me for the next 4 -5 hours until they wake me for the parade of indignity that is pre-op. Fortunately nurse takes pity on me, calls the dispenser of the drugs again, and gets me a Xanax which I doubt will put me back to sleep but at least I will relax as I lay here and stare at the ceiling until dawn. So for all you folks telling me I'm brave, nope, I'm just another big whiny baby like he rest of the assholes. 

And here we go.

Greetings from my luxe accommodations!

Took all day but a bed finally opened up. So far everyone has been lovely, even when performing acts that might be a a little unpleasant. Urine sample via catheter (not nice) nose and rectal swabs (also not nice) EKG (easy peasy had a million of em) BP, pulse ox or whatever that fingertip clippy thing is, IV port inserted, and soon they will be in with my heparin drip, and hopefully my Xanax and ambien. While I don't actually feel anxious, I keep almost starting to cry for no reason and I REFUSE to be irrational crying girl. So demanding all the drugs. 

Heart monitor

Swabs that went places they were not welcome

Cool goth sex light for finding my veins that were hard to find. 

IV port hookup 

Heparin drip thingy that's making annoying clicky noises. 

Well my drugs are in my belly, So i guess I'm all in now! Let the games begin. Any questions? Feel free. 

Grumblegrumblegrumble

It's my own fault, I should have called cardiac surgery as soon as I got home from the hospital Friday, but I was grouchy and hurty and generally wanting nothing but to sink into the embrace of my couch nest and have a little pity party. So I didn't call. They didn't call me. Now it's Columbus Day and so nobody is home at Cardiac Surgery and while I was told they'd be in touch and I'd probably check in Tuesday, do a day on heparin, then surgery Thursday, that seems increasingly unlikely since Tuesday is tomorrow and I haven't heard a word, and honestly it's at the point where I'm ready to go into petulant foot stomping 5year old mode. So will it be postponed to next week? Will they call tomorrow and tell me to come in tomorrow night? I DONT FUCKING KNOW. Stay tuned. 

Sulk sulk

Sexy amirite? This is me doped up after angiogram. 

Not doped up enough, mind you, but after the third serving of whatever it was they gave me I figured if I asked for any more I'd be accused of drug seeking behavior. I was told it would relax me and make me forget the entire procedure. I was lied to. Because,  NO IT FUCKING DIDNT! I remember all of it. None of it was nice. 

It's the feeling of things moving around in my tubes that troubles me. It's a horrible feeling. Sometimes painful, always ghastly. The first angiogram I had was at 23 I had had a stroke and was in the hospital. No details were really given to me prior to going in to have it and it was a painful traumatic experience, so really even if they evolved the procedure to the point where it consists of nothing more than being nuzzled by baby unicorns or buried under a giant waggy pile of happy Labrador puppies, still. No.  Fuck angiograms. For ever and ever. 

So previously I've said that this isn't that bad. It really isn't, and that's easy to see once you're on the other side of it, but there are days and experiences like this as you go through it, that are tiring and painful and dehumanizing, and just plain suck. You feel battered, and vulnerable, and you just want to get on the road and drive away forever. Sorry Buttercup, you have to suck it the fuck up and get through it. There are lots of things left to do, and your heart trying to kill you can really get in your way. Oh btw, I washed my hair and braided it wet before going in,  so that last picture is the dye stain I left on the pillow. I'm sure it's seen worse. 

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Glitter therapy (as the beachball spins)

Having FINALLY dispensed with all photography obligations (because if you give me more time to procrastinate, I WILL TAKE IT) today I went to my studio and played with glitter paint. Because shiny things are distracting, and I fucking love glitter. I'll be using half of this vintage plastic model heart (a vintage drug rep model) in a sculptural piece I'm working on (I'm actually working on about 4 pieces but this is the one I'm most excited about at the moment). There's glitter AND mirror tile involved. So it's gonna be pretty awesome. Hoping to get in more studio time before surgery, whenever that's happening, I'm hopeful to have an answer to that question after tomorrow's fun. 

Tomorrow morning I get to haul my ass to the hospital at the asscrack of dawn for an angiogram. So that will be massive fun. They told me I'll need a ride, I'm assuming that means they are going in through the femoral artery and not the wrist, which was what happened last year, and I was able to drive myself since they just bound up my wrist. I also wasn't yet on blood thinners, which may or may not make a difference in their approach, no idea. Speaking of, giving myself the Lovenox shots isn't so bad, but my stomach is starting to look like I was assaulted with a hammer (tres Sexy, oui?) Also, since I'm off Warfarin at the moment I'm convinced I will have a stroke any second now, so that's been nice. Have you met my new best friend? Say hi, Xanax! 

This will be my 4th time at the Angiogram rodeo, I detest these procedures, they hurt (this may not be the case for everyone, they tell you as the dye is injected that you may "feel slight warmth spreading in your chest" In my particular case, "slight spreading warmth" actually translates to "searing burning pain in conjunction with heart feeling like it may explode") and I feel icky afterwards. I'm hopeful that the need for a ride also implies they will give me some kind of sedative, which would make the post procedure laying on my back for 5 hours, less tedious, as well as silencing my inner voice that keeps telling me they will find something awful, and have to admit me immediately. Maybe tho, JUST MAYBE they will give me some nice calming drugs, go in through my wrist, and I'll be home by noon. My inner voice feels that is highly unlikely. My inner voice is a dick.

It's possible I may get a little whiny in the next few days. I HATE when I'm whiny. I'm just so over this whole thing and it hasn't even begun yet. I know no matter how shitty and beat up I feel after the surgery, I will be glad to get on the other side of it, but in the meantime I'm stressed out and anxious and my god I wish my Mother was here. 

That thing on a Mac where the little beachball spins and spins and spins...

That feels like my life right now.  Hurry up and wait.

It's maddening.

At least I'm getting my house clean in the meantime. There's no cleaning like stress cleaning.

But enough about that.

About 2-3 weeks post op

SO you have heart surgery and you're left with this big fuck off scar on your chest that you have to go out in the world with. There are two approaches to this.

1. High necks, and scarves, cover that bitch up, hate it, think it's ugly, let it make you unhappy, ignore the fact that it's the reason you get to stay alive, agonize over WHAT PEOPLE WILL THINK.

2. Wear it. Wear it loud, wear it proud. Get a kickass bra and push your tits up around it. Look you had another person SAW OPEN YOUR RIBCAGE AND PHYSICALLY HANDLE YOUR HEART. That's pretty bad ass. Think about it, we've all dated that that person who turns into the biggest whiny baby the second they get a head cold, or the one who gets a wrist fracture and acts like they need to go on disability or something. Meanwhile you've had your guts stripped and reassembled. Bitch please.

Guess what my suggested approach to this is. Directly after surgery I *did* cover it up as I was healing when I was out and about,  point blank, it looked pretty gnarly, and I just didn't want to look at it. Also, going out with an exposed wound is a gateway to potential infection - it's almost guaranteed if you go out with your incision hanging out you'll inevitably get thrown up on, shit on by a bird, hit in the chest with a piece of raw pork...You never think those things will happen to you, UNTIL THEY DO.  Sure I've never been hit in the chest with a piece of raw pork. YET. The second you let your guard down tho, it's raining pork. Guaranteed. Once it was no longer scabby and angry looking however, I was all about tank tops and v-necks. Summer was on the way and when you're on the mend from OHS, comfort is key and I'm not comfortable in binding necklines. Also, new scar tissue is pretty sensitive, the less irritation the better (pro-tip: once you're driving again, wrap your seatbelt in something soft, I just used an old t`shirt - that belt fabric will feel like its trying to saw you in half if its resting on your scar tissue).

You might find that some people (strangers) feel it's their business to ask you about your scar. You don't need to tell them. Telling people you've had OHS is weird enough when it's your friends & family but then with strangers, well, you're under no obligation to tell anyone anything about your health. SO just in case this happens to you, and you're not comfortable telling your story, here is the appropriate response:

Fuck. Off.

It takes a while to get used to this new feature of your body's landscape and there are going to be times when it gets you down. Healing isn't just the body, it's also the mind. I think any major illness and or surgery can really do your head in, you don't just wander through unscathed. Something I found helped me was finding others out there who had been through  the same experience - the hashtags #openheartsurgery #zipperclub and #scarsarebeautiful on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram with connect you with lots of folks who are going or did go through similar surgeries. Having my little network was great for when I had questions that weren't really doctor questions, but things that only those who have been through it know, like after your sternum is almost healed completely is it normal for it to ache like a bastard when the weather changes?* Apparently with some folks, yes.

So I have been struggling to end this post for what feels like hours and can't come up with a good wrap up.  So I'm just going to go. I know, it's awkward right? Oh well, can't do anything about that now.


*You know your body, if you even THINK it's your heart hurting, get it looked at, but you can tell the difference between bone achy and heart muscle complaining achy, but again, not sure? DOCTOR.

Plot twist!

So when I spoke with my surgeon initially about this surgery he felt I didn't need to get another angiogram beforehand. However, he called me thursday morning to tell me that after consulting with my cardiologist, and a few other cardiac colleagues it's been decided that I DO need to have one,which very much throws a wrench into the timeline. Soonest I can get it is next friday, so no surgery next week, but possibly (hopefully) the week after, as I'll be taken off my Warfarin, and put on Lovenox, which I have to inject myself with daily, which I am SO NOT COOL WITH. So Monday I get to start with the Lovenox, Angiogram on friday, and *hopefully* surgery the week after....I really want to get this over with.