aw yeah

Aight, 4 out 8 recovery weeks completed now! Half-time, bitches!

I finally have the mental focus to play games and map again, at least a little bit each day. Oh, and I can sleep on my fucking side, which I haven't done since June 13th (first surgery). Normality will soon be mine!

Thanks for the support guys, it was nice knowing mapcore was behind me when things were really shitty.

Quote from FMPONE

Was it some congenital thing or did ya eat too many big macs ;P God speed

*looks up the word congenital*

Yep, it was congenital!

So, it's been 6 weeks now! You know what that means? That's right, Puddy proudly presents...

"Fuck off, things."

[Blocked Image: http://i.imgur.com/mxO9phO.jpg]

Fuck off, vest! I don't have to wear you anymore.

[Blocked Image: http://i.imgur.com/8x4t3IS.jpg]

Fuck off, drinkable and absolutely fucking disgusting medicine! I don't need you anymore.

[Blocked Image: http://i.imgur.com/1ZxRne1.jpg]

Fuck off, wounds on chest! You've been covered with new skin! I don't care if it's red as hell.

This means that the ribcage will be fully healed in 2 weeks! You don't need the vest for the last stretch. Feelin' fine!

Part 1

In light of some recent events, I’m bringing you a tl;dr post related to this whole ordeal. I’ve recently had some chest pains and a bunch of migraines, but it’s nothing to worry about. It has, however, made me think more about my hospital time and has made me revisit it more. For anyone curious what it can be like to go through this sort of shit, this is the post for you. I’m primarily writing for personal and therapeutic reasons. It wasn’t always pleasant, and I’m still processing it all. It turns out you don’t have to be in a war to experience nightmares and things that can only be described as “flashbacks” (no kidding). Mostly, the following tale will be depressing, but there’s a few humorous moments and a few reflections on life and similar deep shit. So, let me tell you about life six months ago.

I think it’s definitely wise to start from the top. I have a congenital heart issue (thanks FMPONE for teaching me that word), which has caused two problems. One, my aorta, the main artery in the human body, was too wide at a certain point (just above the heart). This is potentially very dangerous, as the aorta becomes vulnerable to a rupture. If that happens you are lucky to survive the trip to the hospital. I think roughly 80% of affected patients die before they arrive. Anyway, this condition caused my second heart problem; a leaking heart valve. As the aorta was widened, more blood came streaming through. The heart valve, which is part of the pumping mechanism of the heart, was under too much pressure and leaked small but not insignificant amounts. This weakened the heart’s function. Luckily, I am fortunate enough to live in a first world country where healthcare is freely available and where surgeons are incredibly talented, skilled and have increased the success rate of these kind of surgeries over the last few decades. Not many years ago, I think it would’ve been a 10-15 percent chance that you had seen the last of me. It may not sound like much, but if you’re ever staring down the barrel of kind of that of gun, it will probably sound like 10-15 percent too much. Now? It’s less than a percent and thank modern medicine for that. I’ll always be grateful for this. The only thing I had to worry about was the heart valve. There was a significant chance that it couldn’t be repaired; that it would have to be placed with an artificial one. This was scary, because it would’ve meant lifestyle changes. I would have to take some very important medicine which I wouldn’t ever be able to be without, I would have to go to routine check-ups to measure the levels of the medicine in my blood stream etc. If things were successfully repaired, however, I’d basically be an average joe, have a normal life expectancy and not think too much about things. Sounds much nicer, doesn’t it?

Well, after waiting for the scheduled date, it was finally time to get things done. I wasn’t too scared of the surgery itself and I avoided thinking too much about what they actually do to you when you’re unconscious. Like slicing you open, sawing up your rib cage, hooking you up to a bunch of machines and then cutting off (yep!) and replacing part of your aorta with a gore-tex tube thing. You know, that stuff. I was thinking more about the recovery afterward. Feeling like crap and spending maybe a week in hospital and then gradually getting better didn’t sound like fun. I was concerned but thought it would be manageable. I came to the hospital, called my loves ones, showered twice in a special bacteria-killing soap, talked to a doctor and then went to bed. I woke up early, showered once more in the disinfectant soap, laid down on my bed and was rolled in for surgery. I was helped over to the the operating table and looked around. There was a big team surrounding me. They started to hook me up to different things. It all felt cold and alien, strange. They asked if I everything was okay. I smiled and responded calmly. The anesthesiologist joked. It then faded to black. Everything went dark for a while. Little did I know what I would wake up to…

I’ll continue this later, still feeling a bit shitty at the moment.

EDIT: I see that the stupid/funny shit will be in the next part. That's when the heavy drugs will get involved!

Thanks for the kind words guys! Just to be clear, there's no looming danger hanging over me at this stage. Just my body getting used to things and medicines having some side effects. This is all just retrospective.

And yeah, I'm hella-glad money wasn't an issue. I'd be homeless right now if that was the case. Anyway, I'll write up the nasty second half soon. That's the part which... well, broke me.