Wall of Water - Day 3

A little more with it... and pretty darned pleased.

Busy day today! I get moved to Room #220 on 12A. Because we CF lung-transplant-types are special, I get a private room. Here, as everywhere else, they suffer from overcrowding and throughout my stay there is usually at least one patient in the hallway, so I’m very fortunate. I have a large window, although the view is nothing spectacular – I’m looking south as 12^th Street passes under my window, with Oak Street to my right. Pretty flat topography in this part of town.

During surgery, I had 2 chest tubes inserted in each side for a total of four to drain fluid from my chest cavity. I get my first one out today, along with the central line in my neck (for some unknown reason called a “swan”). I have 1 peripheral IV line removed altogether, and one other replaced. My physiotherapist assists me for my first stroll down the hallway and back, complete with 3 still-draining chest tubes, IV pump and paraphernalia, and the ubiquitous Bag-O-Pee.

At this point I have not eaten for 72 hours. At dinner time, my water restriction is removed at long last, and I get a dinner of clear broth, a tetra-pack of Boost, and 4 little squares of Cherry Jello. Hard though it might be to believe, that was one of my best dinners ever – to have something hot, wet and flavourful flowing down my throat was sublime. After dinner, Dr. Yee stops in for a check. He looks at the naso-gastric tube, says “you don’t still need that”, and promptly reaches up and pulls it out! Finally. It was an unpleasant thing (having it in, not pulling it out).

There is a whole team of medical professionals working with me – surgeon, surgical fellows, surgical residents, 2 pulmonary respirologists, medical interns, nurses, and nursing assistants. One of the head docs stops in to say that Day 3 can sometimes be the end of the “Good Times Euphoria” and not to be surprised if something unforeseen crops up.

I have discovered a wonderful bonus to my room – I have a water feature on my wall! Imagine, if you will, a thin layer of ocean water rippling down the wave-formed ridges of a hardened beach. That’s what I have on my wall, but it’s running bottom-up from floor to ceiling. To make it even more exciting, the red colour from the hearts on my wall artwork is drifting to the sides of the aluminum frame, where it forms bubbles (like on an aquarium aerator) which drift serenely toward the ceiling. Very relaxing. Did I mention good meds?