Now The Blog Title Doesn't Work Anymore...

Cyborg Dave, reporting in from Penn State at Hershey, PA. I've had a lot of very strange experiences in my life, but they all pale in comparison to this.

So the first two days after admission, the docs tinkered with my blood, ran dozens of tests, and prepped me for surgery. When the day finally came there was lots of poking prodding, and after a tearful and hopeful "see ya in a minute" to Christie, the boys, and my parents, I was off to the OR.

First things first - if someone ever says to you, "we're going to insert an A-line," do absolutely everything you can to get as far away as quickly as possible. I didn't know what an A-line was and it will probably haunt me for the rest of my life now that I've had one. Turns out, you've got this huge artery in the underside of your wrist that can be used to quickly administer meds, blood, etc. in emergent situations. And the ink pen sized needle used to access must be inserted while you're awake. I should have known this was going to hurt when they started strapping my left hand to a board and giving me small shots of local anesthetic. The actual insertion only lasted a second, but that one second contained several lifetimes worth of agonizing pain that doesn't even begin to compare with the pain of recovering from the surgery. Good thing they hit it the first time because if they'd tried it twice, I very likely would have called this whole thing off. My threshold for pain has grown relatively high in recent years, but this was maddening, screaming pain unlike anything I've ever experienced. Thankfully it was over quickly.

That was honestly the worst part. The sedation was deep, no time passed, and I woke up to the familiar sound of the TAH (ka-woosh, ka-woosh, ka-woosh), which told me immediately that all was well. A few faces swam in and out of focus - Tommy, the nurse that's cheered me on for the last year or so, John "the Mudgeman" Mudge, a fellow HCMer until his transplant a year ago. Christie, my parents, a few more nurses. The first few hours were blurry as expected, and the intubation tube not as bad as I had dreaded. As soon as I was moderately lucid I was able to focus hard on my breathing so they would pull that thing out - which they did after a few hours. Then blessed sleep.

I really don't remember many details from the last few weeks - I was on narcotics for the first 8 days, and being such a cheap date, they lingered in my system for about 2 weeks. It's only in the last few days that I've felt like myself mentally, able to think clearly, and have a conversation without babbling a lot.

Currently I'm tied to a large machine that houses the TAH. Since I've been stable on it for a few days now, it looks like I'll get my portable version in the backpack hooked up tomorrow. This has been a challenge because I'm used to being independent, even while in the hospital. I've had to page the nurses for everything from dropping something, to needing a drink, to going to the bathroom. Bed to chair - chair to bed. I walk around the unit a few times a day, and enjoy being able to go outside with Perry and eat Freeze Pops in the sun. He's doing better too, though he has a long road ahead with lots of rehab. But we're getting each other through this.

With my backpack, I'll be able to walk around the hospital (accompanied by a nurse), to the caf, outside, and move around my room on my own. Blessed independence. In the meantime, Christie has been faithful as always to bring me good food, hard candy, entertainment, and keep my cooler stocked with sports drinks. I've spent a lot of time watching Beatles documentaries and cooking shows, reading Pratchett when I'm lucid, and napping.

We also start the education part of the TAH tomorrow. Family and a few friends have to go through 5 days of 2 hour classes to learn all about batteries, alarms, changing drivers, changing canulas, power conversion, and all things to do with making sure I do my part to keep the TAH working properly. I can't express how humbled I am that people will take that much time out of their lives for this.

Rich is more eager than anyone to learn it all. I don't understand the whole "be a parent, not a friend" thing people have with their kids - I can't help but be this guy's friend, because he treats me like one. He's faithful to me not just because he's my kid, but because we genuinely like each other. I'm so glad our relationship has developed in this direction because I literally couldn't have survived the last 2 years without him voluntarily taking on a role as secondary caregiver (behind Christie) in my daily life. I love my son, but I also love "that guy" in a whole different way that makes me proud to call him my friend. Anyone should be so lucky to have such a friend.

I can't say much about Christie here without getting really sappy. I feel like we've fought this war together, in the privacy of our own lives, and the experiences are too personal to share. Besides, I want to keep them - we earned them, and we will lock them away along with all the things that have turned our friendship into a happy marriage over many years. I would like to say that I would have been so faithful and tireless in her position, but I fear I wouldn't - I don't think I'm that strong. I doubt anyone is.

I'll post more in the days ahead. Just wanted to say hello, thanks again for all the love, prayers, and support. I'm feeling better everyday, doing more, and slowly realizing what an incredible opportunity I've been given to extend my life once again. There's another big surgery in my future, but for now, I'm going to just relax and enjoy the absence of chest pain, the ability to sleep through the night, eat a meal without nausea, and not having to push myself just to do the simple things.