Post Paced

WHEEEEEE......!
Whee!
Deep breath.
Alrighty then, I'm back.

So, the drugs are wearing off, especially the part where the fentanyl quit and I'm beginning to find out what's actually ... uhhh... "uncomfortable" in doctor speak. But first another nap.
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With some time to reflect, I realize that the anesthesiologist was right when he said I wouldn't be completely under,  just doped to the point of not giving a sh... uh, he was more polite than that, so, darn. I was remotely aware during the procedure of hearing background conversation, and of being somewhat reassured that the topic seemed to be the procedure and not, say, athletic scores. Plus, nobody panicked. I don't remember a word, of course.
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I'm home, the pacemaker's in, and recovery is about to rule my life for for the next few weeks. It's turning out to be different from the way it's described online. For example, when wearing this sling which cements my left arm tight to my torso, I quickly find out that my PJ pants hang up on my left hip when I most desperately need then to quickly slide down. Ahem. I mean, sure, there is a spare clean pair in a drawer, but how many could I go through in the three days before I can start removing the sling for brief periods?
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Turns out the three days with the sling bit just isn't happening. I was allowed to remove the big bandage after 24 hours. Yes, I actually counted them. Of course, the expected happened. My skin bubbled under the adhesive edge and decided to abandon me for the glue. Hello red marks and scabs. Yep, gross. The worst spot is where the sling was over it, and rubbing and pressure really aggravated my allergic reaction. So, no more sling wearing. I sleep with my elbows down and tucked in anyway, so no motion issues due to being unconscious. There is a drawer in the bedroom that's stuffed a little fuller now. I'm saving the sling for possible future use.
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Second day, I can drive again. Good thing because Steve had a doctor appointment. I'm already noticing I can breathe better, though I think that's an illusion and what's really happening is the blood is getting around to where it should much better. Sweet!
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Saturday and I am comfortable enough to drive to the bus depot next to Sky Harbor airport and pick up Rich. He's volunteered to come down for the duration of medical recovery for both of us until we can head north. The plan is still flying Steve up north and me driving. Only this time I will have a companion, "in case." That doesn't seem as urgent now as it did before the pacemaker, but he'll still be good company.

Our first stop before home was joining the group demonstration for peace. Being even more political than I am - saying a lot - he was happy to join us and plans to continue as long as we're here. He's also helping with things around the house. Some are the simple things which would have required me to raise my left arm over my shoulder. Others include tackling long-postponed chores which were neglected due to our medical issues.
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I'm out walking now, with Rich accompanying me. I started in Walmart, requiring a sit-down or two, but back to pushing a cart rather than riding a scooter cart. I overheard him telling Steve when I was supposedly out of earshot how proud of me he was over the changes in activity level. We try to get out twice a day, working up to 3 blocks each time. With the triple digit temperatures finally arriving, alternatives must be found. Up and down halls in medical buildings, the community center, shopping WalMart again, all work.
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The one-week shower: HEAVEN!
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The two week+ visit to the doctor brings the adjustment to the pacemaker. Imagine a round hand-held magnifying glass about 5" across, with no glass in the middle but with a cord sticking out the end of the handle connecting to a suitcase piece of electronic equipment over on the counter. The open part of the loop hangs over my shoulder and is placed around the pacemaker. The technician fiddles with his settings and I start to feel woozy off and on. After I double check that he's causing it, I tolerate the discomfort until he finishes. I'm fine!

The Doc takes off the steri-trips covering the incision and checks it out. I'm healed well except for one spot. This adhesive must be better than the big patch was, because my skin doesn't begin to bubble until later that night, meaning I still have it in place. Still itches, though. So does the pacemaker. That's supposed to be a good sign. He'll see me in another four weeks, forgetting that is when he's on vacation, so I get to wait another week. Not a real biggie, as I presume Steve will be dealing with his back even longer than that. Oh, but no swimming for another four weeks. Dang!
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Back in the pool again!!!!! No, it's not been the four weeks. Then again, no, I'm not dunking my upper chest in the water. Our community center has a walking pool, two interconnecting loops at two different depths. I can walk through the 3'6" part and keep the incision area dry, providing nobody is roughhousing and splashing. But hey, we're geezers here, plus a few guests. There occasionally is a wheelchair parked on pool edge, folks with different mobility issues, and no horseplay. A lot of folks just stand around in the deeper water and chat. I can even practice getting in and out using the steps instead of the ramp, so, including cooling off, the pool has triple benefits. Plus, Rich gets to swim as well. Even waiting till the sun is down, there's a couple hours available before it closes. We come home wonderfully cooled down and tired.
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Time for another nap. Then, let's see... organize my pictures. I can ditch a couple thousand and have room on the thumb drive to back up my library. I even bet the old computer where the wi-fi failed, the one I still keep because it connects to my old printer, still has my Alaska pics on it and another thumb drive can hold all of those without culling!