surrendering for theVATS cardiac surgery

I knew I was on the ‘urgent waiting list and early May confirmed this with the waiting list manager at the hospital I would be treated in, hospital 1

I got phone call to say the following Wednesday would be my operation and to await a call the Monday before, 

Monday came with instructions on covid testing, and where to attend for admitting the afternoon and night before which would be Tuesday

Tuesday rolled in sbd I had a call to say “we don’t have a bed, don’t come, sit tight”. 

Impatient I took the dog for a walk and as I often did on walks talked to her, I told her I was worried about the surgery, if it went wrong I might not survive and if it didn’t fix my heart we were reaching a dead end of options;while walking. they phoned agsin to go in to the ward asap a bed had been sorted

I checked my packing list one last time and needing more space moved everything from my overnight bag I’d already packed and into a suitcase whivch instantly upset the dog, she hates suitcases as thinks it means we’re going away, she was correct just I wasn’t going on a weeks holiday to the sun. I stood with my case at the door, the dog ignoring me but giving sad eyes from the top of the stairs looking down

I droveto the hospital just after lunch and parked, me and rich walked into the ward I was going to, he took my case across the car park as apparently I was making so much noise with it (still no idea what I was able to do that it was just the wheels on a concrete floor I was seated on a bed, had my valuables taken away and admitted to the ward, Rich left shortly afterwards, that night I didn’t eat, too stressed and anxious, I did meet the anaesthetist and surgical registrar who told me I was first in the morning, to rest well and did my consent, the registrar said “I understand from your notes that you know this procedure well at a prior meeting with the consultant I explained I knew some thorocoscopic surgery from my work sbd thst i had researched the procedure he was planning to his amusement I smiled and nodded he did explain risk factors “death, conversion to open ie ribs cracked open and stroke all under 1%” which sounded great odds to me, i signed the consent then took myself for a walk outside.

On my return the nurse gave me 2 bottles of a highprotein / carb drink saying I needed 2 tonight and 2 in the morning to aid with recovery rather then being starved for surgeryI Idrank one it was allegedly lemon flavoured as in it tasted like those lemon hand wipes you get in restaurants after eating chicken wings smell,

I slept a lot of the evening despite the man next to me taking phone calls every 5 minutes, selfish bastard

In the morning I woke up and the 2 additional lemon bottles were shoved at me, I chewed them down, still unpleasant and then I decided I felt like I had sboulder in my stomach, sharp exit to the loo where it turned out the drink hadn’t agreed with me, or I had a evere “stress belly” and had some terrible diarrhoea, at which point I thought “what if I shit all over the operating table, having just beeng warned I’d soon have my pubic hair shaved off apparently my trimmed look wasn’t enough due to the consultant surgeons immaculate standards on infection control, he wouldn’t be happy with any hair I debated saying I wasn’t well enough, but the theatre staff were waiting for me outside the bathroom and no escape was possible, after a close encounter with a shaver and my scrotum, it was all go.I walked down to theatre with two staff, met the anaesthetist again who had decided overnight I needed closer monitoring through my surgery and arterial and central lines (arterial lines go in through your wrist into an artery to measure blood pressure constantly, central lines go from your neck into your heart to allow fluid control to be quicker and Venus pressure monitoring; I knew from my work as an anaesthetic practitioner how thesethings worked but also the implication meant the anaesthetist had some concerns, another flag I wish I’d paid more attention to, I still could have jumped up and escaped. I remember him scanning my neck with an unltrasoind to place the central line and not much after that

I don’t remember the initial recovery either but I do vividly recall cardiac intensive care.the first time reality began to hit home. I was sat upright on a bed with my husband rich to my right, I was sliding down the bed, put my arms out to push myself back up and found I couldn’t, unable to understand what was happening I got frustrated and Rich tells me almost aggressive, he called a nurse who said it was likely just pain and went to get some pain relief, at this point I remember someone (maybe the nurse) saying my face looks lopsided) and went to call the surgical team, a doctor came and said to me she was very concerned something had happened to me and was organising a scan, I knew she wanted a brain scan and they are only CT or MRI and asI’d had an MRI a year BEFORE THAT ENDED IN A PANIC ATTACK AND Mebeing very upset afterwardsSo I wanted to know what I was having I ttried to ask but couldn’t as the words weren’t coming out so using my right arm which was working I tried to draw the letters C and T onto a pillow under my arm but no one could see, so I grabbed Richards hand and started scratching the letters in his palm until he was able to ask on my behalf and it was a Ct. which I found reassuring but slowly began to recognise that a brain scan, left sided weakness, unable to speak were all stroke symptoms

At some point I had a scan they returned me to CICU with Rich AND a Neurology doctor who told us both at that point I’d had a pretty severe ischemic stroke where a blood clot had stopped an area of my brain getting the blood supply and oxygen it needs and causes damage in most cases a stroke, make sure you’ve checked my timeline post to understand where and when things happened before it gets a bit more personable