WATCHMAN

“I’m having the WATCHMAN procedure,” I say to friends.  And, collectively, they say “Huh?”  “It’s been advertised on TV.”  “I’ve never seen it.”

WATCHMAN really has been advertised on TV, discussed as a procedure for the patient who has AFIB.  A one-­time procedure to eliminate the occurrence of stroke.  (Anyone interested can find lots about the WATCHMAN on the web.)

It is important to note here that IT DOES NOT CURE AFIB.  Understand that – it DOES NOT cure AFIB, but it is important to NOT HAVE STROKES.  So, when Erin, my cardiologist, recommended it, it seemed practical for me.  So, I chose to have the procedure.  However, it is a bit more complicated that I first thought it would be.

I knew part of what was going to happen.  As Erin had explained, the heart has a small pocket attached where blood clots are made, or where they collect, or something like that.  And if one escapes and reaches the brain, stroke happens.  Don’t take my word for it – look it up!

In preparation for the day of the WATCHMAN surgery, I was concerned because I have diabetes and was not scheduled to arrive at the hospital until 10:00 am.  That meant, no food from midnight.  I would not have anything to eat until after the surgery which was to occur at 12 noon (but, didn’t occur until about 1 pm).  I was told to get Smarties and to let them dissolve under my tongue.  That way, there would still be nothing in my stomach.  Although I couldn’t find that candy, I did find something equivalent and managed to make it to the surgery time without fainting – which I might have done without their help.

I remember when I was in the room where I received my first two stents.  There was the surgeon, his assistant – both were clean; and, there were two other assistants that were not clean.  I’d never observed a team that worked quite like that.  They worked with each other; and, because I was awake, I could hear the discourse between all of them.  They WERE a team.  The same seemed to be in operation when the third stent was installed in my heart after I fainted in the dog run.  As directed by physicians, I went to the ER and ended up in the hospital for several days with that new stent.

And, so, I was more than a bit surprised when the surgery room where I was taken had seven or eight people (I saw them while I was still awake).  It had taken the full two hours for the pre-op prep; of course, that might have been because I talk a lot and it may have taken more time because of conversation.

Both the surgeon and the anesthesiologist came into the prep area to meet and greet.  I knew the surgeon from the first experience with stents, but the anesthesiologist was new to me.  He told me that he would be with me throughout the procedure – all of the time.  And, he said, if anything untoward occurs and we have to do open-heart surgery, I’ll be there also – through it all.  That was new to me!  OPEN-HEART SURGERY  No one had said anything about that to me.  Was that his way of making a joke?  I think I gulped and stayed quiet – or, maybe, I just nodded my head.

I do remember that the last thing I said before “going out.”  The anesthesiologist said that I should take deep breaths; I remember telling him that taking deep breaths made me dizzy.  Then, for the first time ever, in any experiences I’ve had with being “out,” I remember that I dreamed.  A dream of torn brown paper – like a paper bag.  Roughly torn in the shape of an obtuse triangle, with a torn hole in the middle of the right end.  I don’t know what that means – except, perhaps, that I love geometry.

I woke with a sore throat (because of the camera that had been placed down my throat) that stayed sore until I got home and was able to gargle with warm salt water.  I did have a bit of a headache for a while – I never have a headache.  Then, it went away.  Finally, I was moved to “my” room, where I had to lie on my back for seven hours.  No getting up.  No bending of legs.  No bending back    Just flat!  You can imagine some of the problems that lying flat for seven hours brings, so I won’t go into them.

Eventually, the seven hours ended, and I felt as though I was back in the land of the living.  All of the staff with whom I worked (from the housekeeper to the food services person to nursing and docs) were all terrific with me as a patient.  I felt that I couldn’t be in better hands at Porter Hospital.

And, then home.  More exhausted that I can ever remember.  I even went to bed at 10 PM, rather than midnight.  The next few days of doing almost nothing helped.  My dog Lady helped.  My neighbors and friends helped.  And, now I’m back to following my routine.  I’ve read all of my e-mails and written responses.  I’ll go to bed tonight at midnight.  I think the most exasperating activity in the past few days has been attempting to learn why this procedure is called WATCHMAN.  Do the letters stand for individual words – like an acronym?  And, who invented the procedure?  I’m guessing that some things are not meant to be learned.

My young friends, Kyle and Greta, both brought me wishes of wellness.  I’m sure that those wishes helped with my speedy recovery.  I really appreciate that.  Pleasant thoughts also came from where Daughter #1 works, as well as Rita and Keith (neighbors across the street).  Here is the photograph of those flowers.

Be Safe and Be Well

The Cranky Crone

Thoughtful comments are appreciated.