It’s been six months to the day since Wolf had his open heart surgery. There are constant reminders — the unmistakable but no longer livid scar, his easily audible heartbeat that sometimes ticks like a watch, fistfuls of medication in cheerful candy colors — but I still feel a vague sense of unreality.
I still sometimes wonder how the surgery can have been possible. I suppose it’s grief-lite. Such a shocking thing takes time to fully absorb and accept. That day six months ago was probably the most frightened I’ve ever been — not because of the odds (which were very much in his favor) but because if things had gone wrong, it would have shaken my world right down to the core and broken me into tiny pieces. I feared the Big One but got just a tremor. That was more than enough.
The early days were tough, but after 7 weeks he was definitely on the mend.
The three-month mark seemed to be another turning point, when suddenly he felt almost normal again. His voice sounded strong again. We both relaxed and the tension around the house began to thaw in earnest.
He’s on four medications. He gets regular blood tests (fortnightly for now) to ensure the dosage of blood thinners is correct. There are certain foods that he has to be careful about because they affect clotting, and some he has to avoid entirely. Two of those prescriptions will likely come to an end over the next number of months, but he’ll be on the blood thinners forever.
His sternum is healed so he no longer has any specific limits on how much weight he’s allowed to lift, and he’s cleared for being active (read: vigorous fucking is fine), although he’s been procrastinating about starting rehab. He’s back to his pre-surgery weight.
Life is good.
Today’s Boobday post is here.