A year ago, I was very emotional and nervous about my open-heart surgery, almost to the point of breaking down. I didn’t make my feelings obvious, but I tried to stay positive as friends and family sent me a lot of encouraging messages. I felt so relieved by their uplifting words.

When we went to the hospital for my post-op checkup, there were no questions or concerns, which was fine. I knew about it and went ahead with the visit. Tomorrow is a big day for me—strange to have both today and tomorrow feel so significant within just 24 hours! Yes, I have a sign language interpreter with me.

Today is surgery day. I woke up at 4 a.m. to drive back to the hospital for 5 a.m. When we got to the floor and saw other people, I realized they were in the same situation as me. I started to worry about what kind of issues they might have, but I kept myself calm. My parents were nervous for me, LOL. They called my name to go inside, and my sign language interpreter walked with me. I was assigned a bed, and there was a curtain to close while I changed into my gown. The nurse introduced herself and put in my IVs. My surgery was scheduled for 9 a.m., which felt like a long wait. The anesthesia team came to ask me questions, and I explained my previous issues with anesthesia, which seemed to be resolved. I trusted them. The medicine in the IVs made me feel drowsy. Then my interpreter got the news that my surgery was delayed until 10 a.m., and she had to leave. I told her it was fine. The nurse asked me to change into a different gown that kept me warm. I loved that machine!

At 10 a.m., I got a ride to the surgery room, and my sign language interpreter stayed to make sure I had everything taken care of before leaving. I was asked to move to the surgery table, so I did. I turned to my interpreter, said, “Thank you,” and gave her a fist bump. Then I lay down and quickly fell asleep.

I think I woke up while they were moving me from the surgery table to the bed, but they knocked me out again. I ended up in an ICU room with just a curtain, barely able to wake up because of all the medication. I was fighting to stay awake, and they told me to breathe normally. I didn’t even realize I had a breathing tube in my mouth—they had warned me about it, but I hadn’t thought about it until I was in the room. Once I breathed normally, they pulled the tube out so I could breathe better. I hated it. LOL. My body is sore, and I haven’t sat up yet. The nurse adjusted the bed, but not to a sitting position. I’m trying to figure out what time I got out—it should have been about 5 hours, and it was around 4 p.m. when I was fully awake.

The nurses brought me dinner, and it was actually a nice meal. LOL. Yes, they took all my IVs out and left only the Foley and chest tubes. They asked if I could sit up, then pulled me out of the blanket to transfer me to a chair. I did it, and a physical therapist came by to see if I could walk. I managed to stand strong and still, though I can’t move my arms because of the scar on my chest from open-heart surgery. They told me not to try using them, and I’m still sore anyway. Later, the therapist returned with a walker. I got up again, but it was tough carrying all the tubes attached to me (from my Foley and my chest). I walked a little, but the walker was too tall for me to hold comfortably, and it hurt my chest since I’m short.

I noticed a tube in my neck and wondered why—it sometimes itched. I couldn’t move my arms much anyway. The next morning, the nurses moved me from the bed to a chair. When they asked me to walk, I told them I needed a short walker, and they brought one for me! I walked a bit more, tubes and all. The nurse said there wasn’t room for me to move, so I was stuck in the ICU all day and night. I chatted with friends and parents and played cards with my mother. I could barely move my arms and avoided lifting them over my head because of scars, though I could move them up to the wrists. That afternoon, my neighbor left for his prepared room, and a new patient fresh from surgery moved in next to me. That night, while half-asleep, I saw across the hall a patient in bad shape, with all the nurses working on her. I knew I should close the curtains, but they weren’t quite shut. While at night, I was interrupted, for I had a chest X-ray while still in bed and wore a medicine anesthesia mask to help keep my lungs clear for about 15 minutes. Oh boy, what a day.

Thursday was Surgery Day, and now it’s Saturday. The nurse helped me from the bed to a chair again. I took my time walking more, and my neighbor got jealous—he wants to walk like me. I laughed. Still no room yet; I’m in the ICU watching patients pass by with walkers, except for the one across the hall who complains all day and night. My mom is staying overnight with me. She overheard a patient speaking another language that no one understood. Imagine using sign language and still not being understood! Later, her family arrived and spoke her language, and she lit up with joy, just like I did. I’m worried about the patient across from me, scheduled for surgery at the same time as me, but struggling with breathing issues and unable to walk. He’s stuck here with me. I wanted to walk, so I took a little hike around the area with all my tubes, pushing the walker with its back stoppers lifted off the floor. I should be able to walk without it. While at night, I was interrupted, for I had a chest X-ray while still in bed and wore a medical anesthesia mask to keep my lungs clear for about 15 minutes. That night, before bed, the evening shift nurse came in, and she looked just like Taylor Swift! She had a tough time with that patient. Poor nurse.

Sunday morning started with my usual routine—moving from the bed to a chair, having a meal, and waiting for my room to be ready. I took another walk with my walker around the area, even crossing the bridge to enjoy a view of downtown through the window. Once my room was ready, they removed my Foley and stomach tubes. A few people stopped by to ask if I had any concerns or questions before leaving the ICU. My chest scar looked angry, like one big stretched claw. Around 3 p.m., it was time to leave the ICU in a wheelchair for a regular room, following a familiar route I’d walked before. My father stayed overnight with me, and I knew I’d need another chest X-ray, just like the past few days. They were aware I had a mechanical heart valve. If I had tried wheeling myself somewhere in the hospital, I’d have gotten lost! Back in my room, my father worked on his laptop while watching the Super Bowl, though my TV didn’t have a great picture. Kansas City played poorly, and the Eagles won. Before bed, I asked my father to take a walk with me—and this time, I did it without the walker. While at night, I was interrupted, wore a medical anesthesia mask to keep my lungs clear for about 15 minutes. Results from blood work. My blood thinner started.

Monday morning started with a videophone call in my room around 6 a.m., waking me up from the chair I’d moved to after becoming uncomfortable in bed. I still can’t move my arm, so I have to roll to my side and use my legs to pull myself out. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m strong enough to move anywhere. I told the caller I’m deaf and not speaking, and at the same time, my dad heard a voice, got up, and turned on the light. He seemed like a grumpy old man and told the person there was no sign language interpreter. I laughed a bit and agreed. There was a Video Remote Interpreter, but the screen was too small—cue eye roll. After ending the call, he got coffee, and I had breakfast. I tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t, so I walked around and talked until my mom took over staying overnight. We played cards, and the nurses chatted with me. There was a sign language interpreter, but they didn’t stay long. I found out I’d be leaving tomorrow. I practiced with the therapist on getting up without using my arms, and she knew I was already doing it with my legs. I explained I had no choice because I needed to move to the chair when the bed became uncomfortable. I even used the toilet on my own, being careful not to grab the rail with my arm, just my fingers. She taught me more ways to move without my arms, all requiring leg strength. Later, the nurse went over my release and home rules. That night, I was interrupted again to wear a medical anesthesia mask for about 15 minutes to keep my lungs clear. My blood work came back, and my blood thinner levels stayed the same.

My release day was Tuesday! I was in bed when I got interrupted again by a voice call. A different person spoke, and I told him I’m deaf and don’t speak. At the same time, he hung up, and my mom heard a voice. I told her it was a video call, and she said, “I’m lost,” LOL. She asked me where it was, and I pointed at the wall above the TV. Then the nurse came in with something for me to sign. I asked about the tube in my neck, and she got a tool to pull it out. Let me tell you, it felt amazing when it was gone! By lunchtime, I was home. What a week—between the ICU and video calls!

February 6 -10, 2025

~ DW