Ahh! The cozy compounds of my house!!

It was great!!!

I was so glad to see my son, my daughter, my grandkiddies and pets again!!

I think my big orange tabby must have missed me the most though, over two months later and he still won’t let me out of his sight! (I say this as he lays in my lap while I type…)

Home was a fan-tabulous place to be!!

But, being home didn’t mean all was back to normal by any means.

My regular routine was definitely askew, and there were new accommodations and modifications I had to get used to.

First, there were the medicines…

Not a lot at all, but still it was more than my couple of vitamins that I would scarf down every morning.

And it was multiple times a day, meaning the “medication bells” (aka alarms on my phone) would ring once in the morning and once in the evening, to remind me of these new and necessary regimens.

 

And then there were the stairs…

Having a two-story home was a bit tricky at first.

Not that I couldn’t climb the stairs, but it did take more effort than pre-surgery…

Ok. Ok. So I did get a bit winded in the beginning.

That just meant I would have to premediate those seemingly mountainous hikes, to make them the most beneficial.

I came up with an idea: I would simply hang my handy-dandy Cleveland Clinic tote bag on the bannister, and fill it up with whatever needed to go up or down, thus minimizing the endless trips I was once used to making before surgery.

 

“Take it to the limit, one more time….”

And the limit was ten pounds.

No lifting, pushing, or pulling.

At least for the magic “six to eight weeks.”

Sadly, that included those sweet grandbabies of mine, and also, my blind and deaf seventeen-year-old terrier. Out of habit there were a few occasions that I would forget and pick him up, but in the end, we came up with a plan for that too- a doggie ramp.

 

We already covered the “Driving Miss Daisy” thing…

I couldn’t drive for eight weeks which meant I was home bound for the most part and/or at the mercy of my husband and son and whatever other kind soul that would adjust their day to come and pick me up and take me to get a Blizzard or Slurpee. (Thanks Miss Mary!)

 

“Counting sheep will help you sleep…”

I guess the biggest adjustment, though, was sleeping.

I had heard from past OHS patients, specifically sternotomy ones, that it was best to sleep in a recliner.

That was my plan in the beginning.

So, the first night, it was myself cradled in between two cats, my husband (our sectional sofa has two recliners and he insisted), and our terrier, all camped out in the family room.

This lasted two nights. Well, one-and-a-half.

I don’t think anyone got any sleep except for the blind and deaf terrier…

Midway through night two, we decided to venture upstairs to our room, cats trailing behind…

So our bed sits pretty high, much higher than my waist and I am five foot so that’s about, what? I don’t know, do the math, but pretty high.

Under normal circumstances, there is a footstool on the side of the bed to aid in getting in and out.

Even though I knew this may pose a problem in my current state, I couldn’t wait to crawl into my own bed and feel the soft cushiony mattress and the cool crisp sheets that my healing body had yearned for!

Even if there may have been no hope in ever getting out of it and I could remain trapped forever, it didn’t matter!! I would lay there and melt into it’s comfy-ness for forever if I had to!!

There’s nothing like being reunited with your very own bed! You know what I’m talking about…

So the sleeping position after OHS, is on your back. Period.

You have no choice, at least for a little while.

If you are normally a back sleeper, this wouldn’t be much of a problem for you.

I, myself, am a side and stomach sleeper.

This was a bit difficult for me.

Who am I kidding?!

This was A LOT difficult for me!!

I was scared to death that under the hypnosis of the deep trance sleep I was so desperately in need of, I would subconsciously flip over to my side, or worse yet, flop over to my belly, crushing my sternum and squishing my newly mended heart!

Oh, and you can’t sleep flat at first. You have to be elevated which meant, for me, propping up with at least four pillows.

Sleeping with all these pillows I was reminded of the famous fairy tale “The Princess and the Pea.”

Like the Princess in the story, I too would endure a sleepless night or two, only a pea wouldn’t be the culprit…

Also on the note of sleeping, my poor orange tabby was all about snuggling with me-

And by snuggling, I mean “Tom Tom style” which meant dramatically flopping, full force, (much like those ‘fainting goats’ if you’ve ever seen them on YouTube) his almost twenty-pound body on- you guessed it- my chest!

Bless his furry soul, he had no idea that his fat and fluffy self could possibly pulverize my now two-piece sternum that was held together and healing by the assistance of  mere “chicken wire.”

I immediately got into the habit of sleeping with both hands resting on opposite shoulders and crossing my chest.

This “Dracula” pose of sort, was my attempt at shielding my newly opened chest from all the love that Tom Tom cat could produce…

So, there I am.

Each night.

Laying on this three-foot-high-ish monument of a bed.

My top half inclining upward.

Arms crossed across my chest, resembling that of a corpse during viewing.

All that was missing was a solitary rose to complete the eeriness.

Should Mr. Sandman have decided to show up with his much needed magical sleepy-dust, I probably would have scared the bejeebers out of him!

I did get used to my new sleeping position and eventually made it to the “Land of Nod.”

I had a follow up appointment with my primary care doctor that Friday, two days after being home.

I conveniently planned this appointment time wise so I could make a quick stop at a very special grandgirl’s preschool graduation.

Not rain, nor snow, nor sleet, hail or heart surgery could keep me from such an important event!!!

The next few days and weeks I basically took it easy and stayed at the homestead. The newness of everything began to find it’s own place in the daily schedule.

After almost three-weeks had passed, I was getting a bit of cabin fever and my husband and I thought it may be time to plan a day out!!

And what better an event than to go see the new “Pirates of The Caribbean” movie?!!

And while I didn’t make it to the opening night, we had built up this movie viewing with a “Pirates of the Caribbean” marathon prior to my day-out debut.

I felt like I had mastered the “getting ready” process better. Showers were easier and I managed to do my hair and face in a reasonable amount of time.

I could do this!

An outing to a movie would be a good thing!

Because it was my grandgirl’s first “Pirate” movie theater showing, she insisted we dress the part!

I was showered.

Hair was washed, dried, and somewhat fixed.

Make-up was applied and I was dressed in my pirate-y finest, (or at least whatever I could get my swashbuckling hands on in the closet anyway.)

I was ready to go! We were shooting to make the 1 pm showing.

I went to put on my shoes when all of a sudden, the room began to spin- and pretty fast.

(Uh, this was new?! And INCONVENIENT!)

I felt as if I had taken a nip or two of Jack’s rum!

Okay. It was time to sit down.

I told my husband of the pirate-like rum simulation.

I drank some water and felt a little better.

I would have to call the doc about this, but not right now, I had an anxious five-year-old waiting on me!

Needless to say, we missed the 1 pm showing but managed to make the next one.

I still felt a bit woozy, but so what if I staggered a little bit, right???

After all, I WAS dressed like a Pirate!