When coming out of anesthesia, I noticed that my heart monitor kept "alarming." I remember listening for those sounds when Joshua was in the NICU and the panic we felt when his went off a few times. So, I kept asking "Why is that beeping? That can't be a good sign..." but I was groggy and fairly out of it. The nurses kept reassuring me that it was actually a good sign for me. The heart monitor would alarm if my resting heart rate went under 50 beats per minute. (The average adult has a heart rate of 60-120.) But, my blood pressure remained really good, so the fact that my heart rate was dipping into the 40s fairly constantly means that my heart is really healthy or in extra good shape. In fact, the one nurse noted that it shows I'm an "athlete." I smiled at the term. For any of you who know me well or have read this blog over the years, you know that I'm the farthest thing from an athlete. I struggle with being the opposite, in fact! But, praise be to God, my heart alarm was showing that I'm healthier than the average person. Just to make sure those nurses weren't sugar coating something wrong, I looked it up myself. And sure enough, a heart rate in the 40s shows great cardiovascular health. I grinned at what God alone can do!
I was sicker than a dog (where does that expression even come from?!?!) that night and finally stopped taking the pain medicine at the doctor's suggestion since the nausea was way worse than the pain. It could have been from the anesthesia itself, but who knew? I wasn't going to risk it again. I took the next week off from all physical activity, but within three days I was up and moving and back to a relative normal state with just a little pain from a few blood clots (which may last for the next six months or so, but shouldn't be dangerous).
Here is where I have to praise my husband yet again for being simply amazing. He had scheduled a work trip that week long before I had scheduled my surgery. And he had been planning on going. I agonized over what would happen to the kids if I couldn't walk. My mom was away for the month. What if I was really sick or really dying from pain? I knew I could make anything work if I had to, but I was more than concerned. Evidently, Shawn felt the same way, too, because he canceled his trip at the last minute. He said he didn't feel right leaving me and the kids so soon after having both legs in surgery. I'm sure it wasn't an easy thing to get out of (thankfully he still has a job!) but I was so glad that he did. He took a couple days off work to take care of me and the boys. And even when I had to vomit in a trash can because I couldn't get my wrapped legs moving in time to get to the bathroom, he cleaned everything without so much as grumbling. He played with the boys and they were thrilled to have Daddy home!
Our neighbors brought us dinner and so did my friend Lisa and my two sisters, all on different nights. Before leaving for the family reunion, I had also filled our freezer with meals in case my recovery was longer than I hoped. It all went smoothly, thank God!
I felt bad that I couldn't swim for a few weeks (not for myself but for the kids) and the surgeon also told me I MUST stay out of the sun with my legs. So, I felt like I robbed the boys somewhat this summer for a few weeks. But, we all survived.
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