My elation in getting a new heart was tempered by the fact that I would in fact require the pectoral surgery. This was completely unexpected as Pinochet had apparently healed well. Not well enough, regrettably. So much for Greg Inglis and his wobbly field goal.
The pecs surgery was due on the following Sunday, 6 May 2012. I still could not stand. I could barely speak. I was devastated. I had it in my head, mistakenly, that the pecs surgery would be in two parts. Moreover, I decided that I was going to die in theatre.
Heavy anaesthetic drugs do strange things to strange people. They give me delusions. Horrible, animated delusions. Inanimate objects will form into monstrosities. I would close my eyes over one hundred times over the course of that Sunday night. Each time, I saw myself dead on the operating table.
It was lucid. I could not separate nightmare from reality. I knew I was being irrational. It made little difference. I was unsure where I was.
Camilla left at eleven to get some sleep. She promised that she would come back to the hospital if I needed her. By 2.30am I did. However, the ICU nurse told me to harden up and not bother her.
At 4.30am I asked for her again. Again the nurse refused. I explained my visions of death on the operating table. She said that it was minor surgery and I was being silly.
I asked for Camilla again at 5.45am. The nurse called her for me. I had not slept a wink.
I was distraught. I explained my understanding of the two bouts of surgery. Camilla gently told me that I didn't need to sleep that night and would only undergo one round of pecs surgery.
We waited out the pecs surgery, calmly and quietly. I was then gently put to sleep again.
Until next time,
How incredibly harrowing. It's hard enough to read, yet I can't imagine how it would be to experience this. As one of your nurses, I can honestly say that you are one of the most bravest patients I have ever met. We are all so proud of you on the HF/HTx unit. ...Here's to only fine days ahead.
ReplyDeleteAll is good now, as you know. Many thanks to my wonderful nurses. You have made a real difference.
DeleteAnesthesia and the middle of the night. Both will give you nightmares.
ReplyDeleteBoth you and Camilla need hugs. I wish I could reach around the world to you both.
That Pinochet - he's clearly a bit like Voldemort. You think he's vanquished, but he comes back when you are busy fighting on other fronts. Never mind, Paul - you are the Harry Potter of West Brisbane, and we have faith in your magic powers. (I was going to say we have faith in your sturdy wand and splendid broomstick, but that's just coarse. Whatever we are, let us not be crude.)
ReplyDeleteMin x