since he was already committed to the bypass (i think mentally too, since it was definitely my best option), he went ahead and all was fine, but just as an "insurance policy," he did the drain, meaning that if there was a leak, it would make me less sick by not leaking into my body. okay that's enough of the gross stuff.
after being wheeled through the hospital in bed to a different wing, i had my swallow test which confirmed that there were no leaks, so i finally got to have some water - an ounce every hour. thanks a lot. my mom and i pathetically rationed each ounce into four tiny sips - one every 15 minutes - so that i wouldn't run out before my next ounce. you could have set your watch to my time - every hour at the exact moment the second hand hit the 12, i buzzed the nurse and asked for my ice cold ounce of water. in between, they brought me refrigerated packages of lemon glycerine swabs to keep my mouth and lips wet. they were a lifesaver.
the pain is okay...especially with my self-controlled morphine pump. the thing that hurts most is getting up and sitting down, but my mom and i have discovered that the best way to do it is to lay flat on the bed and let the motorized movement do the work of propping me up or lowering me down. i take walks down the hall as i'm supposed to (starting at 2 in the morning at my own insistence) and the reward is a pretty view out the window at the end of the hall - some fall-colored trees and a church with a steeple - a glimpse at the world beyond the hospital walls. a world i would soon enter in a new way.
image from wikipedia
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