The last week has been a blur and conversations have been full of acronyms. My Dad finally had his CABG last Thursday, as planned, albeit a little later in the day than expected. We visited him in ICU where it was quite a shock to see him ventilated and with so many wires and tubes going in and out of him. By the following day, he was sitting out in a chair, sipping tea before being transferred to HDU. He spent a couple of days in there having some CPAP as his lungs were still collapsed. I took him on his first little walk along the corridor, laden with drip stands and oxygen cylinder on Saturday afternoon and then on Sunday he moved back to the ward. By Tuesday, he was home! I think it is just starting to sink in what exactly has happened to him and the thought of having open-heart surgery is almost unbelievable to him. Even with the scars so visible to remind him.
Being in the thick of such an intense hospital experience had a profound effect on me and stirred many, many memories of a time 13 years ago when I got my first taste of ICU. I have spent the last couple of days chilling in the garden and trying to establish some normal routines again.
I can't leave a post without a photo and here's one (not a very good one, I know) of Dad's hospital bed one afternoon. It raised more than a few eyebrows and several smiles...
...I'm not very good at doing nothing for hours on end, so took something along with me!