It's already Thursday and I'm in the IV room once again with Lauren and mom. Lauren likes to pass her time doing the crossword puzzles from the free newspaper in the hallway and our time basically consists of her reading out the question and me telling her the answer. It's like playing Jeopardy except her mustache is far less impressive than Trebeck's.
I've had a good week so far. My energy level is getting better every day and I'm starting to recognize that I'm actually full and need to stop shoveling the food in to my gullet before I get to that uncomfortable, immobile-for-an-hour state. Good signs. I saw one of the doctors on Thursday and they took out the rest of my staples, as I'm sure you heard me shouting from the rooftops or saw on Facebook or saw my smokesignals. I finally got to wear a bra for the first time in a month and I feel so delightfully human again that I'm downright gleeful. It might be a side-effect from the medication, for I have never been known to be filled with glee.
The good doc told me that I'm doing as well as I could possibly be. No issues to be concerned with, I'm healing very well. I did an x-ray on Monday because one of the other docs was concerned that he heard fluid around my lungs but they turned out to be clear and also, the pocket of air that has been floating around my chest cavity since surgery has decreased in size by more than half. I got a peek at my x-ray and saw the clips and wires that will forever be holding my chest cavity together after the whole 'breaking of my sternum' thingy. If I hear one more joke about setting off metal detectors.... I'll just smile politely and go, 'haha, yeah,' once again.
I did read Lauren's journal this week and I was tearing up in my Cheerios by the end of the first page. It's hard to think back to that time of waking up and feeling scared and helpless. It's hard to know that my family could do nothing but be scared and helpless along with me only they were far more conscious about what was going than I was. I will tell you about waking up in ICU in my next blog. Right now I'm talking about week five.
So, good week, doing well, no staples, bra... All caught up. Yesterday I did have an unfortunate interaction with my physio student Jacob. Now at a certain time of year, the hospital gets an influx of students so the physiotherapists can ignore the patients and force you to deal with fresh-faced, awkward 20-somethings with minimal hands-on training. They learn fast and I don't need a lot of coaching because I used to be such a fantastic athlete (bahahahaaha) so I don't mind so much. I find Jacob generally delightful, polite and enthusiastic. He is from Vancouver and loves watching sports on the TV, he lets me swear and make fun of him so we get along well. Until yesterday... I was doing some leg exercise and while he watched I was told him that I had no idea what to do with my hands and made an Alec Baldwin ‘I need two coffee cups’ joke that went over his head. So that kicked off a conversation about television, he asked me what I watched and I told him of my love for Community, 30 Rock, Modern Family, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia – none of which he had ever seen. He then told me that his favourite show is Two and a Half Men and I was instantly disgusted to the point where I could no longer look at him. He tried to justify it but failed miserably. So I brought up how there are some solid adult cartoons and he replied ‘yeah, like Family Guy.’ Double Fail Jacob. I don’t know how I will be able to work with this kid from here on out.
It is now Saturday. I had a bit of an exhausting week for no reason whatsoever. I did do some light shopping to fill my bag with mini-hand sanitizers and sought out some new running shoes. (I am still wearing the old Addidas ones I bought in first-year University. They are still like new but maybe it’s time to upgrade to something from this decade.)
I met with the nurse coordinator yesterday to get a spirometer to measure my lung function daily at home. I learned a lot from her in that meeting, she is a no-nonsense kinda gal and gave me the scary statistics about rejection and told me about how many times the site where the lung is attached can fail and the lung can just fall if it is not healing properly. It was interesting and intimidating but I told her it took me two years to actually be ready for transplant and I have no intention of messing around. We transplant patients, we are asked to keep a daily journal of our blood pressure, PFTs, weight and temperature. She told me that they can tell when people just fill it in the day before and they just laugh when they see it because ‘you don’t do this for us, I don’t love you, we are here to treat you and keep you as healthy as possible and it’s up to you.’ I really appreciated that. I am very scared and intimidated by this new routine of medication. I don’t want my lungs to just fall off one day but I am still not at the point where I am scared enough of the world where I don’t want to hug my friends and family without haz-mat suits and aside from the obsessive hand-washing, which, quite frankly, I have always done, I still feel very much like me – with a chubbier face.
So, quiet weekend planned. I fully intend to catch up on some emailing and maybe throw up a few more blog postings while my brain is feeling alert and my hands aren’t too shaky, so prepare yourselves for my self-indulgent cries for attention.
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