I arrived on the transplant floor Tuesday afternoon, about a day and a half after surgery. I had a private room because I was still in isolation. The first thing I did was sit in one of the chairs. Ah, a change of position felt good.
I went on my first walk soon after. I still can't believe that the body can get up and go with all of those chest tubes, drugs, lines, and the trauma of major surgery.
It was a challenge to learn how to breathe normally. It was very irregular at first, and the more I thought about it, the harder it got. After a couple of days I didn't need to think about it anymore, it was natural. Coughing was also a challenge. I couldn't figure it out! Coughing used to be my signature! I had to ask my husband to demonstrate so I could copy him. It took a whole week before I could get out one little secretion! And so much effort!
I spent a lot of time with my family. Everyone took turns hanging out with me, which is what passes the time for me. As I became more independent they abided by the visitor hours so that I could push myself to do more things on my own.
We had to quickly create some strict rules around eating for me:
1. No sleeping while eating
2. Sit up while eating (feet on the floor)
3, Stay sitting up for at least half an hour after eating
4. No eating alone
5. No swimming before eating. (Yes that's backwards... but it was my contribution while I was on morphine!)
The nursing staff were amazing. They were so caring, professional, experienced and knowledgeable. A lot of the staff were around my age, so we had lots in common. It was like I was surrounded by old friends. The truly are a special group that work together very well. I haven't seen anything like that in a hospital before. I felt so lucky to be in their care.
One of my nurses and nursing attendants washed my hair for me in bed. It was better than the spa! I felt so pampered, and I know that they don't do that for everybody. My mom redid my braids afterwards and I felt so good.
One day during lunch I tried to catch the rainbows I was seeing. I reached to the right of my tray and over to the left. I didn't think anything of it until I saw everyone staring at me! It must have looked pretty crazy. One of the drugs made me see rainbows in my peripheral vision, and I had the urge to catch them!
I was able to go for more walks every day. I could walk further and faster.
Mentally, turning off my oxygen was a huge challenge. I knew it would be. My husband had already been trying to prepare me. It was my lifeline for years. I was nervous at first when the oxygen was turned down I couldn't hear the oxygen hissing anymore. I was nervous again when I would check the cannula and not be able to feel the oxygen because it had been turned down even more. Finally, one of my nurses came in and said that I had been on room air for the last hour and half! I couldn't believe it! My oxygen had been turned off! I was okay! I took off my cannula for a few minutes to celebrate. Then I put it back on. For security. I wore it all night, just in case my sats went down and they had to turn it back on at night. I was fine overnight, so the next morning I took it off and threw it away. Freedom.
Over these 12 days there were many more firsts: OT, physio in the gym, walk outside, time being line-free, shower, day pass for date night, and germ freak out in a crowd.
I found this to be such a positive experience. I can't explain it, but I woke up with a very positive, let's-get-this-done attitude. I could see improvements every single day. It was so encouraging and so incredible.
That's what I remember from my time on the step-down unit.
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