I’m sitting here watching the rain pour down out the window at very nearly six weeks exactly since my valve replacement surgery where I had my bicuspid and severely regurgitating (I always preferred ‘incompetent’) aortic valve replaced with a mechanical bi-leaflet valve. Since I don’t believe I ever took the time to do so I thought I would contribute what I recall of my experience as a point of interest to those soon to go through the same.
On the 15th of July I turned up to hospital after a fretful lunch with my family and friends. At 2pm I was admitted to the Maple ward at Harefield hospital, given identifying bracelets and pretty shortly left alone. I asked a nurse if my presence was strictly necessary at this point and we agreed to allow me a brief furlough for a last dinner with my partner and close friend. I wasn’t too present during the italian meal but it was nice to pass the time with people close to me and not in a hospital bed. I returned to the ward at about 6pm and sat with just my partner for an hour or so - feeling pretty overcome with the weight of what would transpire the following morning. As it happens I know a nurse on the ward personally but she gives me plenty of space while I work through that stuff. By eight i was on my own and ready to take a shower with the pink goopy anti-bacterial scrub and then to be shaved in preparation for the surgery. I was nil by mouth from midnight and slept fitfully.
Early the next morning I was asked to take a second anti-bacterial shower - probably the most solemn shower I’ve ever taken - and sign some consent paperwork. This was when I discovered my sternotomy would be the full deal and not the smaller incision which has been discussed. Soon I was wheeled into surgery, my identity confirmed again, and positioned in front of a strange warping piece of projected art I suspect was there in an effort to calm me. I had a brief chat with the person waiting next to me before I was knocked out entirely through an IV in my hand.
The surgery took a total of three hours, but about seven had passed before I was woken up in ICU. I vaguely remember the breathing tube being removed but it was immediate and not painful. In the ICU I had one dedicated nurse. In my body now were a total of 6 new tubes - 2 cannulas, 2 drains in my stomach, a catheter, and a line in and out installed in my neck for blood and pain medication. I also had two wires entering my chest so that if necessary an external pacemaker could be used. That day is a blur. The morphine made me wretch so we settled on another IV analgesic. I was fairly out of it and struggled to discern between the real conversation my visitors were attempting to have with me and the various imagined events that transpired whenever my eyes closed for a moment. That night I did not sleep at all. At some point the anaesthetic wore off and I experienced a surprising and sudden burst of pain in my sternum - unsurprising! After a quick ECG I was advised to use the button for my pain meds liberally and I passed the night doing so.
The next morning in ICU was busy with tube removal. My catheter and drains came first - both novel experiences. The pacing team came to test my pacing wires and I experienced my heart speed up and slow down without much humour I’m afraid. luckily the pacing wires were removed the next day without having to ever be used again. Before the surgery I had been very worried about being full of holes and tubes - but I have to say it was simply a fact that they were there and I did not feel uncomfortable about them in any urgent way. The catheter was probably the most noticeable while installed, and the pacing wires probably the strangest to have removed. None of those experiences felt traumatic but they were all extremely odd in their own unique ways. By the evening I was stepped down into the HDU where I could take more visitors, and enjoyed seeing some friends and family.
My time in the HDU was brief but I was walking around before they stepped me down again to the ward. I ought to say that the nursing care was excellent the entire time - really all the work is done by nurses during your hospital stay so the quality of the staff really make a difference. Back in maple ward again I could now finally experience some boredom as the preceding 2 days had been busy with activity. Progress was fine though I experienced quite a bit of pain (which seems unusual, but there we go) which stopped me from being comfortable in any position particularly for some time. Walking was also difficult - with it being a real struggle to get a full breath - for at least two weeks. Passing a bowel movement was a big issue and I think it was 5 days and 2 enemas before I managed it - those poor nurses.
I was in hospital for a total of 8 days before insisting on discharge - which a nurse finally helped me to get pushed through. I honestly felt by then I could not stand another day on the ward with the noise and constant whine of machines and alarms. Sleep was elusive on the ward and the whole affair took place during a heat wave and temperatures of 30C and above. My INR had been slow to rise and by then the only thing keeping in hospital was a daily blood test and administration of a clexane injection - tasks which I gladly took upon myself in order to be discharged.
Arriving at home was a great relief - and seeing my dog and cat on a daily basis made my recovery a surprising amount more fun. Lots of things were tough to adjust to but surprisingly I found my bed at home significantly more comfortable than the hospital one despite it’s lack of motorised positioning. I started off struggling to walk 15 minutes a day but soon escalated to thirty or more as the weeks progressed. Today at almost 6 weeks I walked for 90 minutes without much difficulty - though still some chest pain on deep breaths.
My recovery has not been entirely uncomplicated. I’ve had significant palpitations which have had me in front of a doctor twice. My wound also re-opened at about three weeks at the top of the sternum and has been slow to heal since. I’m in a wound clinic and being seen about three times a week for this. The last swab test showed no infection and while progress seems slow it is taking place. Each of these steps has felt momentous in the experience of them but looking back it has been a fairly smooth ride so far. Next week I’ll have my first meetings back at work to arrange a phased return. I’m still staying with family right now but spent my first night back at my flat in London this week. I’m driving short distances again and able to comfortably do so. In a week I’ll begin cardiac rehab.
I’ve yet to feel this experience is behind me, and progress does seem slow now compared to the dramatic first days in the ICU. Each day brings something new though, and while I’m not yet capable of returning to a full life I am accelerating towards that goal as fast as my body allows.
I hope this was interesting to someone! If I can do it, anyone else can as well.
On the 15th of July I turned up to hospital after a fretful lunch with my family and friends. At 2pm I was admitted to the Maple ward at Harefield hospital, given identifying bracelets and pretty shortly left alone. I asked a nurse if my presence was strictly necessary at this point and we agreed to allow me a brief furlough for a last dinner with my partner and close friend. I wasn’t too present during the italian meal but it was nice to pass the time with people close to me and not in a hospital bed. I returned to the ward at about 6pm and sat with just my partner for an hour or so - feeling pretty overcome with the weight of what would transpire the following morning. As it happens I know a nurse on the ward personally but she gives me plenty of space while I work through that stuff. By eight i was on my own and ready to take a shower with the pink goopy anti-bacterial scrub and then to be shaved in preparation for the surgery. I was nil by mouth from midnight and slept fitfully.
Early the next morning I was asked to take a second anti-bacterial shower - probably the most solemn shower I’ve ever taken - and sign some consent paperwork. This was when I discovered my sternotomy would be the full deal and not the smaller incision which has been discussed. Soon I was wheeled into surgery, my identity confirmed again, and positioned in front of a strange warping piece of projected art I suspect was there in an effort to calm me. I had a brief chat with the person waiting next to me before I was knocked out entirely through an IV in my hand.
The surgery took a total of three hours, but about seven had passed before I was woken up in ICU. I vaguely remember the breathing tube being removed but it was immediate and not painful. In the ICU I had one dedicated nurse. In my body now were a total of 6 new tubes - 2 cannulas, 2 drains in my stomach, a catheter, and a line in and out installed in my neck for blood and pain medication. I also had two wires entering my chest so that if necessary an external pacemaker could be used. That day is a blur. The morphine made me wretch so we settled on another IV analgesic. I was fairly out of it and struggled to discern between the real conversation my visitors were attempting to have with me and the various imagined events that transpired whenever my eyes closed for a moment. That night I did not sleep at all. At some point the anaesthetic wore off and I experienced a surprising and sudden burst of pain in my sternum - unsurprising! After a quick ECG I was advised to use the button for my pain meds liberally and I passed the night doing so.
The next morning in ICU was busy with tube removal. My catheter and drains came first - both novel experiences. The pacing team came to test my pacing wires and I experienced my heart speed up and slow down without much humour I’m afraid. luckily the pacing wires were removed the next day without having to ever be used again. Before the surgery I had been very worried about being full of holes and tubes - but I have to say it was simply a fact that they were there and I did not feel uncomfortable about them in any urgent way. The catheter was probably the most noticeable while installed, and the pacing wires probably the strangest to have removed. None of those experiences felt traumatic but they were all extremely odd in their own unique ways. By the evening I was stepped down into the HDU where I could take more visitors, and enjoyed seeing some friends and family.
My time in the HDU was brief but I was walking around before they stepped me down again to the ward. I ought to say that the nursing care was excellent the entire time - really all the work is done by nurses during your hospital stay so the quality of the staff really make a difference. Back in maple ward again I could now finally experience some boredom as the preceding 2 days had been busy with activity. Progress was fine though I experienced quite a bit of pain (which seems unusual, but there we go) which stopped me from being comfortable in any position particularly for some time. Walking was also difficult - with it being a real struggle to get a full breath - for at least two weeks. Passing a bowel movement was a big issue and I think it was 5 days and 2 enemas before I managed it - those poor nurses.
I was in hospital for a total of 8 days before insisting on discharge - which a nurse finally helped me to get pushed through. I honestly felt by then I could not stand another day on the ward with the noise and constant whine of machines and alarms. Sleep was elusive on the ward and the whole affair took place during a heat wave and temperatures of 30C and above. My INR had been slow to rise and by then the only thing keeping in hospital was a daily blood test and administration of a clexane injection - tasks which I gladly took upon myself in order to be discharged.
Arriving at home was a great relief - and seeing my dog and cat on a daily basis made my recovery a surprising amount more fun. Lots of things were tough to adjust to but surprisingly I found my bed at home significantly more comfortable than the hospital one despite it’s lack of motorised positioning. I started off struggling to walk 15 minutes a day but soon escalated to thirty or more as the weeks progressed. Today at almost 6 weeks I walked for 90 minutes without much difficulty - though still some chest pain on deep breaths.
My recovery has not been entirely uncomplicated. I’ve had significant palpitations which have had me in front of a doctor twice. My wound also re-opened at about three weeks at the top of the sternum and has been slow to heal since. I’m in a wound clinic and being seen about three times a week for this. The last swab test showed no infection and while progress seems slow it is taking place. Each of these steps has felt momentous in the experience of them but looking back it has been a fairly smooth ride so far. Next week I’ll have my first meetings back at work to arrange a phased return. I’m still staying with family right now but spent my first night back at my flat in London this week. I’m driving short distances again and able to comfortably do so. In a week I’ll begin cardiac rehab.
I’ve yet to feel this experience is behind me, and progress does seem slow now compared to the dramatic first days in the ICU. Each day brings something new though, and while I’m not yet capable of returning to a full life I am accelerating towards that goal as fast as my body allows.
I hope this was interesting to someone! If I can do it, anyone else can as well.
