Most people go out and party on Halloween. Some people dress up their kids and go house to house enjoying the holiday and the candy that comes with it. Unfortunately, for me, it’s a day I will never forget.
5am, Halloween morning. I am waking up after a 10 day stay in the hospital. I’ve been really sick for the last few weeks. So sick, I even quit smoking. I had tried everything to quit, but after 30 years of smoking, it took almost dying to finally take hold, but I digress.
Like I was saying, 5am and the nurse’s are waking me up, and preparing me for the most important event IN MY LIFE. It turns out my Aorta valve had a bad infection and was spreading the infection through my body. They told me it also effected my brain and I actually had a stroke too(thank God, I don’t really notice the effects, my mind is everything to me).
For some reason I’m not as nervous as I should be. I guess in the back of my mind, I’m hoping they are going to tell me, I don’t actually need OPEN HEART SURGERY. Unfortunately, that message never comes. So now, I’ve been prepped and carted down to the where my operation is going to take place. I’m laying in a little 6′x8′ “room” with every machine imaginable hooked up to me. The doctor comes in and briefly explains how the day will go and BOOM, I’m waking up in the ICU HEART AND UNIT.
As I’m waking up, I notice this big tube, protruding from my chest. It goes down to a portable case. This is my “drain” tube. My mom proceeds to tell me, I was just in surgery for 10 hours. To me, it was a blink of an eye. The doctors come in to check on me and explain what is going on. Since all of my veins have collapsed, they have stuck a catheter(which feels like it is 10′ long when they pull it out) into my jugular vein. The doctors tell me everything was a success and that my heart is actually very strong.
The next few days are blurry. I've gotta laugh though cause the “Doctor” that does my follow ups, can’t be older than 25. I never did ask, but you could tell, he was YOUNG. So, I’m healing well, I can’t really walk too much. I either go to the chair next to the bed or the bathroom. Even then, I am winded.
After a few days, it’s time. The doctor ask me to count to 3 and take a deep breathe. He quickly pulls the tube from my chest and then pulls the catheter from my neck. It creeps me out now just thinking about it. Though it didn't hurt, it did feel extremely awkward.
Over the next few days, I was so weak. It took everything I had, and the help of 2 nurse’s, just to walk half way down the hall and back. Within a week, I was walking by myself(and my mom was there to help, she never left my side and I love her for that). By the second week, I was making laps(with all the other heart patients) around the Heart Unit. It seemed to be everyone that had heart surgery’s goal, do laps!!!
So one night, I just couldn't get comfortable, no matter what I did. The nurse’s were very helpful(and beautiful), they tried everything, but I just felt like I was crawling out of my skin. The only thing I could relate it to, was being dope sick. I couldn't sit still to save my life. Finally, the nurse called my doctor and they brought me a Xanax. Turns out, I was having a panic attack. I've never felt anything like it. Even being dopesick, you know your dopesick, so it’s understandable, it sucks, but you know why you are suffering. With the panic attack, I was freaking out even more cause I had no idea what was wrong.
After 2 weeks in the Heart Unit, my Social worker, started looking for places for me to go for rehab. I had a 40cm pickline, from the side of my arm to above my heart. A specialist came in the first week I was hospitalized and put it in. Like I said before, 20 years of Heroin Addiction has collapsed all my veins, so I needed a pickline for antibiotics and all my other drugs.
My social worker finally found a place for me to go. That is a story in itself. The stay at Fairfax Inova really opened my eyes. I guess the closer to death, the more you appreciate it. I also realized that Nurse’s have to deal with all the shit(quit literally), they are just as much heroes as the doctors that doe the surgery.
It is now March 17, 2015. It has been 3 months since I was discharged. Luckily, I still don’t smoke, which is a daily fight. This is only the beginning of my most epic battle. There will be more to come.
