Recap part four: getting settled in the ICU

The first night

Everything from my hospital stay is pretty hazy, especially the intensive care unit (ICU). Once I arrived in ICU after my six-hour surgery, I remember talking to Kelsey and Matt. Sorry to anyone else that was there. For some reason it seems we were kind of laughing, which seems about right since Kels said I was being quite humorous. I guess I was still feeling the happy drugs from my anesthesiologist. Kels, Matt, mom or anyone else who was there, please feel free to add stories and observations to the comments section about the first time seeing me or talking to me in ICU.

I next remember everyone had left except for my sister Wendy who was sitting in the recliner by my bed watching TV (pic at left is of Wendy in the waiting room during my surgery). She stayed really late until visiting hours were over, or so we thought. We found out the next day that I could have someone stay the night with me in my room, just no in-and-out visitors. I remember feeling very happy that she stayed for so long (thanks, Wendy!). I don't know if it was the drugs or what, but I felt close to everyone who was around me. Which brings me to my nurse.

My nurse on that first night was an older woman. A grandma-type, I'd say. I was so, so thirsty but wasn't allowed to have anything. During surgery, your digestive system shuts down - one reason why you can't eat or drink anything the night before. I didn't realize this fasting would extend after the surgery. I wasn't hungry in the slightest, but man! I was dying for water. My lips felt very chapped and my throat dry.

My nurse offered me a cup of ice chips to placate my thirst. Most of that first night, I was so drugged up that I would sleep and sleep, then wake up and decide that I really needed my nurse. She would spoon feed me ice chips, give me more pain meds and talk to me. She told me about all the surgeries she had after a terrible car accident she was in, which made me feel better to know that she knew how I felt being in the ICU. All of this is really hazy, a la drug-induced conversations, but I remember feeling a range of emotions from happy to scared to needy and every far out place in-between. My nurse was my best friend during this time.

Toward the end of the night, I woke up and pushed the call button just to ask her to say "good-bye" to me when her shift ended. Then I fell asleep (passed out) again and woke up to find her gone. I didn't get a good-bye, and I was very upset. Heartbroken might be a better term. When my mom got to my room early that morning, I cried to her about it. Mom said she sounded like my grandma Dorothy, which is probably why I felt connected to her. I'm leaning more toward the drugs as the reason.

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Did I mention I was on drugs?

One of the first things I learned to do upon waking after surgery was use my morphine drip. A nurse put it in my hand and told me to get used to pushing it. I could push it up to a certain number of times every hour. The drip was a long, thin, clear catheter (tube) that was inserted into a small incision in my back. On one end was a button that I would push whenever I was in pain and a small amount of morphine would be released onto my spine. The catheter was only about the width of a pencil lead, which made me think it didn't really help all that much. I never felt a big wave of relief after pushing it. All of my nurses kept reminding me to push it, so I guess it had to work somewhat.

I don't remember the frequency with which I was given drugs in ICU. Every so often, either on their own or as a result of my tears, a nurse would give me drugs through my IV. I have no idea what kind of meds I was given at this point.

In addition to the morphine drip, I had an array of new tubes and pins going in and out of me. Working down from my head, I had a nasal cannula, which you can see wrapped across my face in the picture to the left. A nasal cannula delivers low-flow oxygen and is common to have after surgery to help regulate your breathing. At first when I had the cannula, the flow was a little strong. It reminded me of the air conditioner knobs above your head on an airplane that when you turn you can feel this pressure of air coming out and hear the hiss. Eventually, the nurse realized this and turned it down. I never thought twice about it after that.

Next, I had another central venuous catheter in my chest under my right clavicle. This is a larger IV with three tubes coming out of it that they would use for different reasons like to deliver medicine to me rapidly or take blood from periodically. It was inserted into my chest and taped down, so I wouldn't pull at it. A later post will include a picture of the nasty bloody scab this little tube left.

From there, I had an IV in my arm for fluids. Then, my morphine drip in my back. And last but not least, I had a catheter in my bladder that released into a lovely bag seen at the bottom of my bed in the picture to the left. Every so often my nurse would lift the sheets and check this catheter to make sure I wasn't laying on it wrong or it wasn't twisted. Let me tell you, there is no room for modesty in the hospital. And, for that matter, when you're in pain like I was in pain, you really don't care.

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Not to dwell on this specific catheter because I know most of you are thinking "TMI! TMI!" But I had always wondered what this would be like and, if anyone is reading this to prepare for their surgery, they may be as interested as I was in all the little details. When I realized I would be getting this specific catheter, I assumed it would feel really gross like I was always peeing the bed. I actually didn't think twice about it. If it wasn't for the changing of the bag every so often, I would have thought I didn't go to the bathroom once the whole time I was there. There were a couple of times when the tube got kinked or I laid on it wrong when I would realize it was there (it felt kind of like I needed to use the bathroom when this happened), but those times were somewhat rare. I never thought I would be so ok with this, but whenever I was unsure, I would just ask my nurse to check it out for me and up would come my sheets again while she inspected the area to make sure everything was where it should be and draining correctly (once, in the PCU, I even had a male nurse and didn't even blush about him checking on me either...as I said, the more pain, the less shame).

Now the ICU isn't just a nice dark place to rest and recover, which is what I assumed it would be like. I assumed that I would just lay around and sleep and wouldn't be bothered while tests and such were performed on me. My assumptions were a little off. A lot happened for me in the ICU, whether I liked it or not. These and more stories from my hospital stay to come in another blog post. I will post once more within a week to make up for my blog neglect this month.

Friends and family: don't forget to leave observations or stories in the comments section, if you have them, about visiting me in the ICU.

Update: I had someone ask me why I was posting such small pictures. For those of you new to blogger, you can click on the picture to see it larger. Enjoy!