The Big Day: Part II
Maya's Open Heart Surgery: August 1, 2012
Part II:
Operating Room
After saying bye to my family, I was wheeled into the operating room, where I had an OMG THIS IS SO COOL THIS IS JUST LIKE GREY'S ANATOMY BUT WAY COOLER freakout moment in my head. The operating room was cool, literally and figuratively. There were so many monitors, so many fancy tools, and so many fancy doctors and nurses. I was actually really intrigued and excited, and then I remembered that the surgeons would be cracking my chest open and (briefly) stopping my heart and I got a little nervous again. But, the show must go on, right? I scooted myself right up to the operating table and lay down. The nurses and doctors started strapping my arms to the operating table, and we started chit-chatting.
Going Under, Waking Up
The last thing I remember before going under was talking to my Anesthesiologist about what dorm she lived at when she was a student at Notre Dame (she lived in Pasquerilla West, my rival dorm). The first thing I remember coming out of surgery was not being able to breathe and being really sassy. I don't remember if my eyes were open or closed, probably because I was still so out of it. By the time I woke up (or at least, by the time I was conscious enough to be aware of my surroundings), I was already extubated and I had an oxygen mask on my face. I remember panicking because I couldn't take a deep breath, and I felt trapped underneath the mask. I kept telling the nurse that I wanted the mask off, and that I couldn't breathe. She eventually took the mask off and put a nasal cannula of oxygen in my nose.
This is me looking "nice":
At least I tried, right?
First Night
I remember the rest of the day in foggy bits and pieces. I remember saying bye to my sister and my dad, who both had to return home to work. I remember talking to my nurse about why my teddy bear's name was awesome. I remember telling the nurses that even though I was in a lot of pain, I was also really intrigued and I thought everything was super cool.
Even though everything was "super cool", the first night was pretty painful. Although I was flying high with tons of painkillers and other drugs, I was still in a substantial amount of pain. I remember saying, "So this is what it feels like to get hit by a truck." I did feel like I had been run over by a truck, or at least a herd of elephants. My chest hurt where they opened me up, it hurt to breathe, and I couldn't move. I also had about 23234 other tubes and cords connected to me and coming out of me-- I'll explain those in another post. However, one of the things that bothered me the most that first night was the blood pressure cuff on my right arm. It was set to monitor my blood pressure every 15 minutes. So, every 15 minutes, the blood pressure cuff squeezed my arm, which is super uncomfortable when you also have two IV ports and a pulse oximeter on your hand. Additionally, my night nurse came in every half hour or so to check my vitals and make sure I was doing okay. Halfway through the night, she decided to put some special booties on my legs because she wanted me to look fabulous my legs weren't getting enough circulation. The booties were actually really comfortable. Think electric heating pad meets leg massage meets moon boots. So great.
Although I'm able to make light of the situation, the hardest part of my recovery was, in fact, the first night, when everything was new, when every ache and pain was unfamiliar. My challenge for that first night was to remind myself that the pain I was in and the panic I felt was not permanent. I needed to be reminded that the situation I was in was temporary; that the pain was not inescapable.
I had my iPhone next to me in bed, and was able to listen to a playlist I had made for my recovery (thank you to my dear friend Shannon for the idea). Even though I was still pretty out of it, I was conscious enough to listen and to let myself be distracted by the music and the lyrics of the songs. What could have been a seemingly endless night of pain and panic was anything but. Yes, I was in pain. Yes, I was alone, yes I was experiencing something that I had never experienced in my life. So, what do you do when you are alone in a hospital room, unable to move, and in constant pain? You pray.
"Come, Holy Spirit."
I let everything wash over me.
I acknowledged the pain, the anxiety, the frustration. I invited God into the pain.
But I also I invited Him into all of me, and gave Him the chance to transform that pain into something beautiful. By praying through my pain, I was reminded that I was very much alive. And if I am able to feel that much pain, I am also capable of feeling so much love and healing.
I'll leave you with one of the songs that got me through that first night, and that helped me remember that there is so much more beyond the pain.
Part II:
Operating Room
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| Scary for some, really super awesome for me. (via) |
Going Under, Waking Up
The last thing I remember before going under was talking to my Anesthesiologist about what dorm she lived at when she was a student at Notre Dame (she lived in Pasquerilla West, my rival dorm). The first thing I remember coming out of surgery was not being able to breathe and being really sassy. I don't remember if my eyes were open or closed, probably because I was still so out of it. By the time I woke up (or at least, by the time I was conscious enough to be aware of my surroundings), I was already extubated and I had an oxygen mask on my face. I remember panicking because I couldn't take a deep breath, and I felt trapped underneath the mask. I kept telling the nurse that I wanted the mask off, and that I couldn't breathe. She eventually took the mask off and put a nasal cannula of oxygen in my nose.
Post-Op
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| "This bear is not Ochocinco." |
Immediately after surgery, I kept asking for my teddy bear, Ochocinco (I'll explain the name choice later). Apparently, Ochocinco was sitting in the car because my family didn't want to have to worry about him during my surgery. In Ochocinco's place was a Phoenix Children's Hospital Bear that my mother had placed on my bed, thinking she could be sneaky and that Post-Surgery Maya wouldn't notice. Well, you can't get anything by me. I noticed immediately that the bear was an imposter. I was extremely offended that Ochocinco had been replaced, and I proceeded to let my family know. "Get that bear out of here," I told my mom as I sent the other bear away. Needless to say, Ochocinco soon returned to his rightful place on my bed.
Thank goodness I had a sassy nurse to complement my sassy personality. Upon hearing that my teddy bear was named Ochocinco she looked up from the IVs and fluids she was connecting to my IV port and said with a disapproving look, "I'm going to pretend that you didn't just call your teddy bear Ochocinco." Considering my post-surgery sassy pants track record so far, I'm sure I retorted with a snarky comment, but I have almost no recollection of this conversation. Sometime during this time period, my sister asked me if she could take a picture of me. I said, of course, but that she needed to warn me before taking the picture so that I could pose and look "nice".
This is me looking "nice":
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| Looking fiiiine. |
First Night
I remember the rest of the day in foggy bits and pieces. I remember saying bye to my sister and my dad, who both had to return home to work. I remember talking to my nurse about why my teddy bear's name was awesome. I remember telling the nurses that even though I was in a lot of pain, I was also really intrigued and I thought everything was super cool.
 |
| via. |
Although I'm able to make light of the situation, the hardest part of my recovery was, in fact, the first night, when everything was new, when every ache and pain was unfamiliar. My challenge for that first night was to remind myself that the pain I was in and the panic I felt was not permanent. I needed to be reminded that the situation I was in was temporary; that the pain was not inescapable.
I had my iPhone next to me in bed, and was able to listen to a playlist I had made for my recovery (thank you to my dear friend Shannon for the idea). Even though I was still pretty out of it, I was conscious enough to listen and to let myself be distracted by the music and the lyrics of the songs. What could have been a seemingly endless night of pain and panic was anything but. Yes, I was in pain. Yes, I was alone, yes I was experiencing something that I had never experienced in my life. So, what do you do when you are alone in a hospital room, unable to move, and in constant pain? You pray.
"Come, Holy Spirit."
I let everything wash over me.
I acknowledged the pain, the anxiety, the frustration. I invited God into the pain.
But I also I invited Him into all of me, and gave Him the chance to transform that pain into something beautiful. By praying through my pain, I was reminded that I was very much alive. And if I am able to feel that much pain, I am also capable of feeling so much love and healing.
I'll leave you with one of the songs that got me through that first night, and that helped me remember that there is so much more beyond the pain.
Would you dare, would you dare to believe
That you still have a reason to sing?
'Cause the pain that you've been feeling
It can't compare to the joy that's coming
So hold on, you gotta wait for the light
Press on and just fight the good fight
'Cause the pain that you've been feeling
It's just the dark before the morning.
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