The 30th April will always be a memorable day for me. In 2018, it was the day I left St Georges, just five days after having open heart surgery. It still baffles me that they let me leave so soon after they had cut my sternum in two, stopped my heart and sliced it open!
At this stage, I’d like to offer some post surgery advice – No matter how ridiculous it may sound, do what you’re told by the medical professionals. Seriously, that was probably the reason I was discharged so quickly – I did what I was told.
What they tell you to do won’t be easy. In fact, to be honest, sometimes they’ll ask you to do something that will seem impossible. For me, that impossible moment came the morning after surgery and I’d like to tell you what it felt like when I woke up that day.
But before we get to that, let me give a special mention to my big brother, Chris. My surgery lasted about four or five hours. Mim and my parents had made the decision to stay away from the hospital until the surgeon phoned to say it was completed. I don’t in any way resent them for this. I actually think it was a very sensible decision.
However, my big brother, who has always been a big fan of his little bro, decided he had to be at the hospital. He strolled around that hospital and the streets nearby for the entire time I was in surgery. He was there when I first woke up in intensive care (ICU) and I will always be thankful to him for that. Even though I don’t remember seeing him at all!! General anaesthetic will do that to you apparently.
Right, back to the morning after. In the few weeks leading up to surgery, people had been very supportive and kind when telling me what post surgery would feel like. Even medical staff had told me that, “Of course, you’ll be in pain, but you’ll be medicated, so it will be manageable.”
Then my friend Marie and her daughter Chloe came to visit. Marie is a good friend. I say that because good friends tell you what you need to hear. Not what you want to hear. Marie also has healthcare experience. As I was telling her how I was feeling about surgery and what people had told me about the pain levels, she stopped me and said, “Pete, I need to tell you something. When you wake up after open heart surgery, it will feel like you’ve been run over by a steam roller.”
It may seem like a cruel thing to say, but looking back, I really appreciate Marie’s honesty. Why? Well, guess what it felt like when I woke up the morning after surgery? You guessed it. Like I’d been run over by a very large steam roller. But, because of Marie’s honesty, I was prepared for it.
So, it’s 7am the day after surgery and I’ve just woken up in ICU feeling horrendous. I had three thick plastic tubes and two wires sticking out of my chest, multiple tubes coming out of my wrists, and a whole bunch of things coming out of my neck. It genuinely felt like I wouldn’t be able to move for about a week, and I was about to get my first test in doing what you’re told, even when it seems impossible.
My nurse greeted me with, “Good morning, Peter, it’s time to get into the chair.” To which I replied, “Is it really?!?!” I nearly asked for a different nurse. I didn’t even feel like I could sit up in the bed, let alone get out of the bed and sit in a chair! Another nurse came over and they both assured me that no matter what I felt like, the best thing for me was to get into the chair, and that it was possible.
There followed a merry dance where they held onto all my wires and tubes as the bed sat me up and I turned to sit on the edge of it. After another pep talk, and to my amazement, I stood up momentarily, before sitting down in the chair. Now you’d think that being out of bed so soon would be a cause for celebration, but I was in no mood for celebrating.
It felt truly awful. I mean REALLY awful. All I wanted to do was get back in the bed. So much so that I asked the nurse how long I would need to stay in the chair for. I was thinking maybe until after breakfast. She had a different view on the situation. “Oh, hopefully until lunchtime”, she said with a smile.
UNTIL LUNCHTIME!?!?!?! Lunch was at 12pm. That would be four hours in the chair. I thought I’d perhaps make it to breakfast and even that would be an achievement. And suddenly I was faced with what seemed like an impossibility. I immediately said to the nurse, “I can’t do that!”
My nurse crouched down beside me, put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Peter, you can sit in that chair until lunchtime and you know why? It’s because you are OK. Look up there at those monitors. Your heart rate is fine. Your blood pressure is fine. Your oxygen levels are fine. You are OK. I know it doesn’t feel like it. But you are OK.”
I’m a massive fan of true story sports movies, so I’ve seen a lot of those classic motivational speeches. You know the ones. The team talk given by the coach to rally the players to victory. They’re usually delivered just at that moment when the team are broken, battered, fallen, losing and hopeless. I felt all of those things before that nurse spoke to me.
I was the team. She was the coach. And she gave me the calmest, most gentle team talk I’d ever heard, and here’s one for the hardcore sports movie fans, all I could think of in that moment was, “Left side…”
I stayed in that chair until lunchtime and then did the merry dance back to my bed.
That afternoon, I left ICU and was moved back to the cardiac ward. There I spent the next four days honing my ability to do what I was told.
On Monday 30th April, I said goodbye to the incredible staff of St Georges once again, and walked out to my brother’s car. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I was walking, let alone leaving the hospital. Oh, and I didn’t even have a dressing on my chest wound anymore. The ability our bodies have to heal has always amazed me. But at that moment, it astounded me!
By the time we arrived at my parents, I was exhausted and I think remember just going straight to bed. My Mum and Dad were heroes and had carefully constructed me a pillow mountain on the bed so I could sleep on a slight incline (I wasn’t allowed to lie flat for too long).
I had been told that the first couple of weeks would be pretty awful: that I would want to sleep all the time, but wouldn’t be able to because of the pain. Well, that night I slept like a baby. It was wonderful.
The next morning I got up and transferred to the reclining chair in the lounge. I spent A LOT of time in that chair last year. I actually remember feeling really good. I spent the day wondering when the awful feeling they had described would kick in.
My good friend Will came to visit and brought me Subway for lunch. He definitely would’ve got the movie reference earlier, as I’m pretty sure when he walked into the lounge he said, “Left side…” to which I quickly replied, “Strong side!”
Will took me for my daily walk and we made plans to have Subway Tuesday every week while I was recovering. A plan that would not make it past that tuesday, for reasons that will become clear soon enough.
I looked amazing on that walk. I was wearing my brand new poncho which had been knitted for me by Mim’s mum.
On the drive home from the hospital the day before, God organised us a stunning sunset. I remember it feeling as if the sun was setting on the difficult season that the start of 2018 was. That feeling continued when I woke up the next morning and had such a good day.
The skies were clear, the sun was shining and it felt like a new season of life was dawning.
The storm had passed.
Or so we thought.
A Journey Of The Heart 