My New Watchman

Home from the hospital, hopefully my last heart procedure. All went well, so far as anybody can tell this early. It's up to the body now to do its thing. What it needs to do is recognize the Watchman as a foreign object and seal it over. When that is accomplished, there will no longer be a left atrial appendage which could pool blood during A-Fib, enabling it to clot, with the haunting possibility of it breaking loose and causing a stroke. This means I could wave bye-bye to blood thinners and INR testing and the possibility of major bruising/bleeding in case of trauma.

Wheeee!

I got to see one before the procedure, even handle it. Imagine a teeny parachute of very fine mesh covering sort of a metal-framed - oh - jellyfish. The wires dome out across the top, then interconnect on their way down to dangling half their length beyond the mesh. They're sharp. They're also a titanium-nickel blend, and I'm assured my nickel allergy won't be a problem since they've already implanted them in others (number ???) with the allergy. No mention of how long ago it's been to see if they react. Anyway, the full object is maybe a gram, about an inch around, with a stem sticking out the top. I figure that's so they can handle it during the procedure.

About three different people came in and commented/questioned about me "needing" the procedure. It was never presented to me that way. Rather, it was offered as a possibility, completely optional, but it might make my life simpler and safer. Nevertheless, I agreed with their way of framing the issue. Not the time to object to a word or two.

It got me thinking, though. Is "necessity" a way of getting Medicare to pay for the procedure? Now I'm really going to shut up and not argue the point. Of course, they don't pay a whole lot for this one. Turns out I had to go to a heart hospital in Phoenix, through morning rush hour among the other 3 million cars heading downtown. Rich drove, and picked me up the next day. The local hospital is only 2 miles away, but they have informed my cardiac surgeon that they no longer welcome that procedure being done there because they don't get enough money to cover their costs. So you think I might hint to Medicare that I hadn't considered it absolutely necessary? Shhhhh....

WARNING: you are about to enter the land of TMI. Skip ahead two paragraphs if advances in toileting are to be avoided. ........ OK, now, ready? Because the Watchman is inserted into the femoral artery for its trip to the heart, it is absolutely required for one to be absolutely horizontally still for four hours afterward for the incision to close safely.   (When the staff is really busy, it goes over five.) If you consider that although you arrive for surgery dehydrated, there is an IV pumping liquids into a vein while you're under, and the expected result happens. They've found a solution... sort of. I was introduced to a completely new doohickey. Imagine an oversized tampon within a very narrow sock sitting in a round-end, open top plastic holder with a tube coming out the end that - ahem - isn't connected to you - but is connected to a suction tube leading to a receptacle. It has a name, but I wasn't in a position to write it down for future reference. You understand. It's somebody's alternative to a catheter, and there's a version - noisier, don't ask how I know, just think about the privacy afforded by cloth walls-  for the guys too. I think your cheeks hold it in place. Everything drips down.

Now catheters have the advantage that they do all the work. With these things, you have to reach back into your potty training and figure out how to bypass all those commands of "Thou shalt not pee while lying in the bed! Ever!" It's tough. Even after you figure out your own method. I was bloating and cramping until I was told about the doohickey and encouraged to use it. Uhhhh.... Nothing. Try again.... Sigh. Luckily, the instruments they put down your throat for a sonagram to be sure of positioning during the procedure tend to irritate the throat. So.... cough! cough!.. Ahhhhhh! After I ran out of coughs, there were other ways, now that the taboo was broken. But boy, are those muscles sore! Did I mention where it is next to your tender parts, the sucking evaporates enough liquid to make you believe you're getting frostbite? Or that however well I thought I was doing, the minute I was allowed access to a real toilet, I sat and... and... and... until finally really empty. Gravity matters, y'all.

OK, it's safe again for the squeamish. Time to discuss the hospital food. The menu is varied with lots of choices I both like and can eat, mostly ala carte. Once in my room, I called down for a banana. I'd missed breakfast and lunch, and supper was only two hours away. They arrived with the fruit in about 20 minutes. Two hours later they brought supper. I asked for a cheeseburger, and could it go on rye toast instead of a bun, and please add tomato, onions, ketchup and mustard. I told them I didn't need a beverage because I only wanted water, which I had in the room. So they brought my patty on rye with tomato and onion. Instead of mustard and ketchup they added a pickle. And since I didn't need a drink, they sent a bottle of water.

Hmmm, what would breakfast bring?

I ordered another banana as a side. Got it. It did happen to be icebox cold and green. Who does that to green bananas? It's ripening at home. Also ordered a select-your-ingredients omelette: egg whites, bacon, tomato, pepper, onion, swiss cheese. First, their version of omelette is like mine, scrambled eggs with the other stuff thrown in. No complaint there. However .... (you knew there was going to be one, didn't you?) ... the eggs were yellow, the scrambled eggs lay in two rows along the plate, one including the bacon, the other including the veggies, topped with the swiss. They were fairly tasty, to be fair, though I should have ordered a packet of black pepper. I'm thinkingthe way they tolerate low Medicare payments and still keep running is by adjusting how much they pay the cooks.

I came home asking myself why I keep forgetting that hospital beds are uncomfortable, the bells never stop ringing,  blankets are a prison for the legs rather than a solution for the frigid temperatures, the staff is overworked and the pills never come at the right times. I did recall that the TV sucks, so I brought a book. I did peruse the schedule and found a couple hours worth watching. I also noticed 5 varieties of FAUX channels. I managed to avoid all of them.

The best news of all came after I got home. Steve got the call that due to a cancellation,  his back surgery is tomorrow, rather than the end of November!!!!! Yeee-Haaaaa!!!!