The Surgery & Scar

August 21, 2022

It is Sunday afternoon, 5 days after the surgery, and I am amazed at how great I feel. I returned home yesterday, and that made all the difference in my attitude. I was tired of wearing a hospital gown, being hooked up to IV’s and getting sponge baths. I was ready for a real shower and to sleep in my bed. Hearing I was able to go home made all the difference.

There’s so many things I’m thankful for. First, my family made these shirts that say, “#LoveLikeLindsey” and used the heart from a painting I created. They even gifted some shirts to my surgeons. My surgeon wanted a copy of my painting to use in his presentation slides for upcoming seminars - that’s pretty exciting! In addition to this, family and friends created videos wishing me luck and letting me know they were praying for me. I loved it. Next, I shared this news and blog with the world on social media, and I was overjoyed with seeing the support from everyone. Every like, comment, and direct message was heard and appreciated, and it made those last few days in the hospital not too bad. Finally, when I came home, I was surprised to see my step-sisters home as well, and I was so thrilled to see them. Though talking too loud and too much would hurt or take too much energy, I just loved sitting with them and listening to the conversations.

Today I got up, did my hair and makeup, and got all dressed up to take some pictures. I want to show off my scar. It’s pretty ugly, and for someone squeamish like me, it can make your stomach turn. But I love this scar. It’s like I went and got a tattoo that gives me a story to tell about this crazy, traumatic thing I experienced. I told myself that I wouldn’t and shouldn’t be ashamed of this scar since it shows the world that I am a badass. This line on my chest is a symbol of strength, and a reminder of the support and care I received from those who love me. It’s an acknowledgement to modern medicine, and a thank you to the surgeons who gave this scar to me and the nurses who kept me alive. This scar saved my life.

Now I want to talk about the surgery and the days that followed.

The morning of surgery, I felt the perfect amount of anxious and calm. I was calm because all I needed to do was show up, and I knew it would be better on the other side. I was anxious because A, B, C, or D could happen. Or E, F, G. I’m using letters since it‘s pointless to name those risk factors that didn’t even happen. I had to remind myself that it’s silly to worry about things out of my control or things that haven’t occurred. God is in control. I had to remind myself of that.

During prep, my veins were being tricky and they couldn’t get the big IV in before going in the operating room. So that means no “fun drugs” before entering the operating room. Typically, before surgeries like this, they pump you up with some medicine that makes you super go-with-the-flow. I joked with my surgical team, “I can’t believe you made me go into the OR sober!” The OR was bright and cold, and I was getting poked and touched everywhere as the team prepped me. They finally get the first IV in, and then I am out. I don’t remember a countdown or any type of announcement that I was going under. I was told beforehand that the anesthetic would have an amnesia effect, so I’m sure I did countdown, I just don’t remember.

This made waking up extremely disorienting.

I can hear everything before opening my eyes. My mom Barb, my dad Steve, and my step-mom Arlette, are talking to me since the doctors and nurses told them to. I have a breathing tube in, and all I wanted to do is gag and throw up. I hear machines and people and I am unable to open my eyes yet. I am freaking out. I watched videos on this, knowing what to expect, but it was still very confusing for me. It turns out you can’t think straight after being on anesthesia for 5+ hours. Go figure!

I finally open my eyes, and then I am in and out. Awake then back asleep. Everyone is relieved to see that I did not in fact have a stroke, which was a risk and concern from the doctors after being on the heart and lung machine for two hours. They also know that I am not bleeding out, which apparently is a greater concern if you’re a redhead (gingers do have it rough!). At this point, everyone on the text chains from my family could take a sigh of relief. I ask for pen and paper, since I can hear, barely open my eyes, but still can’t talk with the breathing tube in. Now, we can play a fun game. Decipher my writing!

Somehow, my family got it, probably from seeing me write real time. The first two photos say, “Did I have heart surgery?” And the last one says, “Chest tube is gagging me. THIRSTY.”

Hopefully from this you can understand the confusion and hopelessness I was feeling at this moment. I didn’t even realize I had the surgery already! And PSA - you do become very thirsty after having a tube down your throat for multiple hours.

After writing, I start acting out with my hands. Imagine we’re playing a game of charades my word is “shut up“ or ”stop talking” and that was what I was trying to act out with one hand. I was getting so stressed that everyone was talking to me and I couldn’t move or look at them or talk back.

Fast forward, the chest tube comes out, and I can talk and all is well. We laugh later on about my notes and charades because my family did always understand what I was trying to say, even without talking.

I’ll skip all the information about the nausea and the numerous needles and tubes still inside me. Just know you are staying in bed for the first 12-24 hours.

I heard someone describe heart surgery as feeling like you’ve been hit by a bus. I’ve never been hit by a bus, but I’m sure that description is accurate. Everything aches. Especially your chest and your back. Luckily, those pain meds make everything bearable. The reality is, everything is difficult that first week. Talking? Exhausting. Eating? No thank you. Breathing? Feels like you’re doing so on “manual” mode instead of automatically. Getting up to move to the chair two steps away? GOODNESS. Everything just takes it out of you. The good news is, every day gets better. Your throat stops hurting so much, food starts to taste good again, you no longer need to take a break for deep breathes between every sentence. Getting up out of bed stops feeling impossible. It can take a few days or weeks, but you will get there.

I am amazed at how I feel only 5 days after the surgery. My brain tells me I can walk for miles, but my heart can only make it to the end of the driveway before I start feeling dizzy. I can go down the stairs like a champ, but going up the stairs requires a 5-minute break afterwards. Sometimes I feel completely back to normal, other times I feel like I just woke up from the surgery again. I can’t lift more weight than a gallon of milk for the next three months, but it’s still hard to let people do things for me that mentally, I am more than willing to do. Physically, I just can‘t (and shouldn’t try)!

Healing is not linear.

I listened to podcasts on healing prior to the surgery, and they all had this common theme. Some days are really good and you’re feeling hopeful. Some days everything bothers you and your outlook is negative. Both types of days are perfectly fine and perfectly normal.

This blog is somewhat all over the place, but that’s also where my brain’s been the past week, so thanks for tagging along on the journey. I’ll leave you with a passage I studied the night before the surgery, Psalms 73.

I had included the last verse in this chapter in my first blog post (But as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge, I will tell of all of your deeds. - Psalms 73:28). I realized looking back, that another verse in that passage also applies so well:

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.“ - Psalms 73:26

That gave me so much comfort before the surgery, knowing that no matter what, even if things go terribly wrong, I will be with God forever. But, if the surgery succeeds, as it did, that God makes me strong and brave, and I can take on whatever comes my way with His love and support.

With love,

Lindsey