These people are gonna kill me!

I don’t think I’ve written much about my second operation. It went so well, I really just hadn’t thought about it. “It went well” is relative, of course… at the time, I thought that I had been hit by a large truck! And that I was going to to be beaten to death.

After being informed that Elevator Sprints was a game that I didn’t need to be playing – even if I was one of the Co-creators – I didn’t cause any more trouble for the hospital staff. But trust me, they got me back, in spades!

I left my room one day to walk up and down the halls (one of the few things you can do when stuck in a hospital) and next to the door was a gurney. Someone had written on the plastic cover

Steve C****

Bed 3, Rm 406

Surgery 3/17/77 0800

Oh, boy. I don’t think that it had “clicked” in my head before that that these people meant to cut my chest open! I ran back into my room, jumped into my bed like Pete Rose sliding into second base, and cried my eyes out. Not a manly thing to do, but I was eleven years old, so I’m pretty sure that it was OK.

The day of surgery was kind of strange, too. The operation was scheduled for 8:00 AM, but when I woke up in recovery, I was in for quite a surprise. I was facing a large plate glass window that overlooked the city, and it was night! Exactly how long did that surgery take?

It turns out that it lasted about as long as they expected it to last – but there had been a serious accident on the interstate. I never heard exactly what happened, but a lot of people came into the ER at about the same time, and a good number of them needed surgery. All the “routine” surgical patients got rescheduled while the critical patients went first.  Since I had already been sedated, they just kept me under a very light sedation until my turn came. Thankfully my parents had heard about the delay so they weren’t climbing the walls.

When my turn finally did come, the operation went smoothly. I was supposed to have a Blalock-Taussig Shunt, but they were worried about finding a vein that was large enough to act as the conduit. (No MRI scans in 1977!) Thankfully, it was big enough to do the job!

I didn’t get a Cough Bear after my surgery. I didn’t even get a pillow – remember this occured in 1977, and no one had thought about using a soft object to brace against when you cleared your lungs yet. In fact, the accepted practice for cleaning your lungs out will make most modern cardiac patients cringe.

Two nurses would come into your room and help you sit up. Then they would get you to lean forward as much as you could, and when you couldn’t go any further, one of the nurses would take you by the shoulders and lean you over another few inches. Then the other nurse would cup her hands and pound on your back – HARD!

After you were beaten like a tough steak you were told to cough into a cup. The purpose of this form of torture was to prevent mucus from building up in your lungs and causing pneumonia. I was hoping that there would be a river of mucus – enough to get these nurses (literally) off my back!

You could always hear echos of their slaps as they worked their way down the hall. To hear them getting closer and closer caused more fear than any movie Wes Craven ever made. But once, they reversed their usual pattern and started at my end of the hall. I was number one on the list. These ladies were warmed up and ra’ring to go when they hit my door.

After a particularly ferocious lung clearing series of smacks, I coughed up my liver and gasped, “I don’t know what I did to make you ladies angry, but I sincerely apologize!”

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