Many open heart surgery patients are sent home from the hospital with oxygen after their and surgeries. No one wants to be tied to the oxygen. It's like a red flag that says, there is something wrong with my lungs, I can't breath on my own. Besides the stigma, it is inconvenient and bothersome to drag the oxygen everywhere.
I didn't want to come home with oxygen, and I've been doing everything I know to do to expand my lung capacity ever since I got home. I've been doing deep breathing exercises, walking, and I haven't missed a single rehab appointment. So, today, I asked to be tested at the rehab clinic in hopes that I might kiss the oxygen during exercise goodbye.
No such luck! My pulse oxygen plummeted to 83 after only a couple of minutes on the treadmill. The exercise physiologist had to bring the oxygen to me while I was on the machine. She told me that I could try again after a full week had passed.
For some inexplicable reason, this relatively minor setback broke my heart and started the water works flowing. I began to tear-up right then and there at the rehab on the treadmill, and then the flood waters really broke loose when I got home. According to open heart surgery literature, bursting into tears at the drop of a hat is fairly common after open heart surgery.
However, this was the first time that my own emotions have erupted over seemingly nothing. I didn't even shed a tear when Dr. Blake told me that I would have to have open heart surgery. I consider myself to be stoic and was totally surprised at my inability to control my emotions.
I haven't been sleeping well at all since I started taking the Prednisone to cure the inflammation of my pericardium, so maybe insomnia contributed to the situation.
Today, at rehab, I increased my time on one machine by only one minute. I was disappointed in my effort today, yet I was completely worn out when I got through. In fact, it was all that I could do to duplicate what I had done the previous session.
Yes, recovery from open heart surgery is definitely a jagged marathon. Most days, I feel like I'm well on my way to a full recovery, and then out of the blue, I have what I would call a downer day.
To end on a good note, I saved a dove's life today. The poor little thing had gotten trapped in our bird feeder. It's head and wings had gotten through the bars, but it's body was too big to follow. It took all my strength, but I was able to bend one of the bars just enough to let it's little body free. The split second it felt the bar release, it flew right past my head to freedom. I cried over that too! These were tears of joy, though.
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