I Have Been Having Adventures...

 I Have Been Having Adventures...

If anyone wonders why I have been away from writing anything on my blog for a few weeks, there has been a very good reason for it. I have been having adventures - not ones that I would have wished to endure, but which I could not dodge, and had to face up to.

On 22 February, I underwent open-heart surgery to replace my aortic valve; it was severely stenosed with a lot of calcification, so I was in sore need of a new one. 

It's not something anyone would blithely put themselves in for, but I realised there was no time to waste; it was urgent and the sooner I got on with it - and got it over! - the better. I had a wonderful surgeon, who inspired me with confidence, and also reminded me it would be good to have the surgery whilst I was still young ("Keep talking to me!" I said, "keep talking to me!") and on a technical note, I had also been born with a bicuspid valve, which meant I had only two leaves instead of the more usual tricuspid valve with three leaves, so although a TAVI (trans-arterial valve implantation) was an option, it was clearly better to have the operation where the surgeon could see clearly what was going on, and he would be able to clear the calcification at the same time. 

Although it terrified me - of course it did! - I agreed to go ahead with the open-heart option; and at the beginning of February I got an e-mail asking me if it was still what I wanted. I didn't think twice, I just e-mailed back to say yes. The date also fitted well with Wendy, because she had booked three weeks' holiday  then, and would be able to help to look after me when I got out of hospital.

I think I went in to a sort of dream-like state for a couple of weeks; I heard from the hospital that I had to attend 72 hours before I was admitted, to undergo the pre-operation checks as well as swabs for the virus, to make sure I was clear of everything, and well enough to have the surgery. On the Thursday, I went in for a couple of hours; apart from the swabs, there was an X-ray and blood tests and it all flowed very efficiently, and I was soon able to go home. It still felt quite unreal, as though it was all happening to someone else - certainly not me! 

There followed a strange 72 hours,  until on the Sunday morning, I had to get ready - case packed, early breakfast, and then the trip to the hospital for admission at 2.00 p.m. No-one could come in with me; at the entrance, I was met by a porter, who took my case up to the room.

It was just like being in a hotel - going in, there was a wardrobe and coat pegs on one side, an en-suite bathroom on the other, with the main part of the room filled with a bed (hospital style, of course!) and a dressing table, with a large t.v. mounted on the wall, and a couple of chairs. 

I swiftly got my belongings organised; I'd also taken some paper for writing, and a couple of bits of mending for Wendy (with hindsight, did I really want to be doing much with needles and thread?!), and an art paper pad and coloured pencils, in case I wanted to do some drawing. 

Presently, my consultant arrived to see me, and spent a long time explaining in very close detail what the operation entailed; I signed the forms, giving my consent, and hoped for the best. I then had a visit from my anaesthetist, who spent an equally long time checking on any problems and concerns I might have; I asked how my teeth would be protected during the operation, when I had tubes going down my throat, and she said they could put a shield in place for me. 

After that, it was a slow wind-down to dinner: I had chicken, and boiled new potatoes, which was o.k., except that the potatoes were unpeeled... and a bit hard! Oh, dear, that's not how I like them! I had some ice cream, but again, it was quite a fancy brand of which I had never heard, and I would have much preferred a good old Walls choc ice instead. 

I had a signal for my phone, so I could use the WhatsApp facility to ring out, which made me feel connected - if I couldn't have visitors, at least I could talk! - and I also retrieved the art paper and pencils from my suitcase. I had a photo of a red admiral butterfly that had landed on one of Mum's sheets when it was hanging on the line to dry, so I tried drawing that; my coloured pencils were not really dark enough to get the deep red and orange colours I wanted to define the wings, but at least I think I got the shape of the butterfly. I worked on it until about 2.00 a.m., and it took my mind off what I had to be brave about and face up to, later that day.