Surrealism

I got my ICD about 23 days after my SCA. My first SCA was July 17, 2012 and I had my ICD implanted on August 8, 2012.  Much of that time was spent in coma, being cooled, in cardiac ICU. My first memory was July 26, then again one on July 28 (Austin's birthday). 

Then one memory of me calling Dr E to tell her to get me out of Calgary. That they wanted to cut me open and put a thing in me. I didn't want it. I wanted to go home. She should help me.  Dr E little did Calgary know talked me into the ICD. She told me I did need it. That I couldn't go home without it.  After talking to her I finally consented to getting it.  

A person came around showing me the ICD toolbox. I got to hold it. I had no understanding that there were lead things that went in heart.  I thought the toolbox went in by my shoulder and that was it.  Was it a bad explanation? Was it my memory? 

I look back at some of my social media posts between July 26 and August 8 and I'm floored by how bad my mind was. People had to suggest things to me and it seemed memories would come back to me. But if something wasn't suggested I'd have no clue. I'd forget things between morning and afternoon.

Surgery itself didn't take that long. It took me awhile to get up afterwards.  I started puking this day and didn't quit until sometime in September. I was released less than 24 hours later.

Those 9 days I spent at home were very surreal.  I never had an inkling I was getting sicker by the minute. It was like I walked into some one else's life. I didn't like the decor, the colors, the choices. The mess the amount of "stuff" horrified me.  It was like everything was ultra bright. Ultra colored, ultra real.   Surreal is the only way to explain it. I didn't like my clothes, I didn't like my hair.  I was horrified to have bright pink streaks in it. Horrified. I didn't even like my lotions and shampoos. 

After being hospitalized almost a whole month I loved to shower. I wanted to be clean. I was obsessed with the water beading all over me. Hitting my skin with force. I'd marvel at it. A drop at a time, watch it bead.  I've wondered many times since if it was those showers that started that infection brewing. (I should ask my EP).

 In ten days my wound looked awesome and it was time for my staples to come out. 

But on that day a nasty blood infection that had been brewing reared it's ugly head.

There was absolutely no sign of any type of infection from the outside.  I'd only found one thing the day before my collapse where I mentioned to my sister in law mid afternoon that I was tired. Was that the start?