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Tuesday, January 22, 2019

And now the Post-Drama begins

Cool, calm and collected. Pre-surgery. This did not last long.

And after a "short" and successful surgery I am doing exactly what my parents warned all the doctors I would do upon waking without rampant anesthesia running through my veins: Trying like HELL to pull out every single one of those 2,000 tubes.

Oh yea, and now the real games begin. The waiting. The monitoring of the monitors. The recovery. The breathing, or not. Me extubating myself (okay, I did not really do that, but I did pull out some horrifically fat tube from my nose), trying to rip out the newly sewn stitches on my chest. Things like that which tend to freak out parents worldwide.

Then there's the up and down of the O2 saturation. The fever that creeps up (in Celsius no less which is no help to mommy). All the little tremors that blip across my computer screens which the doctors tell my parents are irrelevant or are "lying" due to whatever else is happening that it must be measured by. So why are they there? No answer. Comforting.

Paddington made an appearance at the hospital! Which is largely ironic
since one of the nurses here looks like Knuckles from Paddington 2!
Waiting outside the operating room was a heck of a lot easier for my parents. It meant I was down under and I was in good hands. The repair was done well and I'm ready to surge again with blood flowing unchecked through my aortic valve.

I'm still in good hands with a crack ICU team around me. But the anesthesia is all done now which has created a dramatically less calm picture.

Here's how it went down. I woke up an hour after the OHS. I sat up in wild shock and horror and began thrashing around my bed. Eyes still sealed shut from exhaustion and a mouth full of dried blood, I was surely in some type of Gehenna. After wildly flinging off leads and swiveling around the bed, the team here heeded mommy and abba's suggestions of sedation. It seemed to benefit all parties.

Actually, pre-op was clearly fun and easy going as you can see.
And so I remain, under the influence. Occasionally I flutter my eyes with a gasping whine, looking for familiar faces. I threaten to thrash and then, after receiving reassurances that all is well, I drift back to sleep. I believe this will be my situation for a few more hours.

The truth is that all these little ups and downs probably mean nothing in the long run, but because my parents watch too much TV and because they are very bored right now just watching my drain pipes and IV drips, they choose to panic over every little beep.

They call it vigilance! Or, parenting.

And all will be well.

And I was feeling the love!

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