It was around 6am on the Wednesday when I had a visit from the Doctor. He told me that the plan that day was to remove the tubes from my side that were draining the air pocket from around my lung.

It’s going to sting a little

Isn’t that what they always say for anything that might bring pain? It gets your mind to expect one thing I suppose but I didn’t expect the hard yank as he pulled out the tubes between my ribs that took my breath away!

I think it feels better now with them out of there...?

Following that “wake up call” the Doctor asked me a few more questions about how I was feeling and where my pain was, noting that I had reduced my pain relief over the course of the last day. And then the words everyone wants to hear,

You can go home today

Wow! Four days since my surgery and I was being discharged. I felt a mix of excitement and trepidation at the same time.

My breakfast that morning turned out to be an IV line of magnesium - it helps to protect stomach bleeding after surgery. Ironically my wife and I had planned ahead the day before and had ordered scrambled eggs and I was hungry for something other than oatmeal. They arrived and I watched the tray in front of me, waiting for the liquid IV to drain in to my body, waiting, waiting...

Just as I was contemplating asking for help to get my breakfast and do the drip at the same time - innovate thinking I know! - the X-Ray porter arrived.

Apparently I now needed a full body scan and they were ready to for me right then, until I pointed out my drip. I was being smart, thinking if I can’t have my breakfast because of the IV, then you ain’t getting an X-ray!

Within moments the porter and nurse dismantled my IV stand, invited me to sit in the waiting wheelchair and promptly gave me the stand to push as we set off to X-Ray.

It was a quite a journey through the corridors and elevators of the hospital. It was cold, as I was only wearing my hospital gown, and each joint in the floor jarred my body as we crossed over, reminding me of the last few days of surgery.

As we wheeled closer we entered the A&E department and I could see an endless row of both patients and new arrivals with the hospital’s pandemic response all around us. I had been so sheltered up to this point and at low risk of exposure and it now seemed I was right in the mix. It seemed unnecessary to me having already benefited from a mobile X-ray unit before.

It was a painful X-ray, it was difficult to stand in any case never mind in front of the machine and with the operator pushing my chest in to the hard surface; and then we made our way back to the ward.

As I returned the physiotherapist was waiting for me to practice climbing stairs, which I had not done since the surgery. I had imagined a complex set of instructions with the way that the Nurses had set this as an objective but it was simple.

When going up, lead with your good leg and when going down, use the bad one. However the physiotherapist intern did have me walking up a flight doing the opposite, until his boss appeared and corrected us both! No harm done in any case and we spent more time reassuring him that it was all experience rather than focussing on my mobility. Nice change.

After that I was visited by the pharmacist who took me through my drug plan and the nine different medications that were to follow. Interestingly they give you a prescription for these drugs, they don’t actually dispense any, not even a few days worth, so one of our next steps from leaving the ward would be to go to a pharmacy!

I didn’t anticipate shopping the day I was discharged from open heart surgery...

My wife was amazing, pushing me in the wheelchair through endless corridors and the public atrium to the pharmacy and then back again to the parkade; while all the time dodging people who simply weren’t physical distancing. Even in the hospital people were not recognizing the simple rules.

Of course the credit card didn’t work at the pay station, adding to our stress but we eventually got to our truck. It seemed so cold outside given that I had been insulated in the hospital for five days.

Getting in to the truck was a grit the teeth heave as I resisted all my instincts to use my arms or my left leg to manoeuvre. Using my right leg only, somehow I bundled in to the back. They don’t allow you to sit in the front as it is likely that in an accident the impact of the airbag alone on your chest could be terminal.

My wife was the hero again, taking a truck which she doesn’t normally drive, through several floors of the parkade and then making the journey through downtown Edmonton to our City home.

With one last painful transition from the vehicle to the house, I was back on the couch where we had started our journey early that last Friday. I had only been away for five days or so but it felt a lifetime and my surroundings unfamiliar in many ways.

Finally we could carefully hug each other again. Surgery procedures, intensive care and COVID-19 had prevented any sort of physical contact.

We both took a deep breath, preparing for the long recovery ahead in pandemic isolation but together.