OK, that's not fair, this isn't really about recovery...I don't remember that. My first cogent memory is being wheeled into my room and, as I come around the corner, seeing Lucia waiting for me. I reached out and croaked, "Svenska!" Croaked because that's all I could do after having the tube down my throat during surgery...ouch.
The nurses were on hand to begin my education. I looked at the catheter...WHOA...I expected a small tube the size of a cocktail swizzle stick...instead, there's a damn garden hose coming out of my body. Doesn't hurt, but unexpected. There's also a small tennis ball sized bulb coming out of my left side that needs to be emptied every few hours (I'm told later it's a drain).
I'm asked if I want anything for pain and I say, "Sure," a decision I may regret in hindsight. I'm also given stool softeners (sorry, but this is a full report), and hooked up to other equipment.
Lunch is delivered and while I'm not really feeling like eating, I dive into the Italian Ice to soothe my throat. I eat some of the salad, and some crackers and yogurt...then it's nap time.
Later in the afternoon I'm helped out of bed and take a short walk with Lucia.
One piece of equipment keeps signalling a problem, and I'm told I have sleep apnea, "No I don't," I respond. My oxygen levels, as a runner, are always great. But the nurses keep telling me to take deep breaths when the alarm sounds...sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, and they are surprised when the levels jump from 70% to 98-99% in an instant. I continue to insist the sensor is defective. More on this later.
Lucia is given a lesson in cleaning the catheter, and I becoming very casual sharing my groin with multiple women...all of whom, with one exception, are strangers.
Coughing brings a new level of awareness to the ports in my body, and then I develop hiccoughs. God, I hated those hiccoughs!
More to come, but first the upcoming announcement...stay tuned.
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