One step closer...
Even the ICU staff could only handle so much of me...
|It's cool cause Brad and I were sick of the decor in there|
They checked me out of that suite within days and threw me over to Step-Down.
Once I proved I could breathe on my own, and that my sats were rocking the monitors, I walked over to step-down - stretcher no thanks.
Yup, waltzed right over like I owned the joint.
The first time they asked me to try to walk I jumped all over it, knowing that the faster I got my lazy self out of bed, the faster I'd get out of the hospital. I mean, who needs to lay around after transplant?
There is toooooo much life to live.
Step-down is also pretty foggy. I was still hopped up on pain meds, strong, beautiful pain meds that made everything so much better. They keep on top of it to avoid banschee-type screams and slews of profanity.
The time went pretty quickly in step-down.
I finally was able to eat. It started with ice chips, then soft foods, before graduating to solids. Pre-transplant I had somewhat of a salt addiction (which is perfect for a cystic, as we need the extra salt). I asked Brad for a sub from Subway, and naturally asked for 5000 extra ml's of salt.
WOW. Have things changed. I could barely eat the thing. I thought, "Is this what salt is to normal people?"
Time spent in step-down involved a lot of talking and sleeping. There is never a dull moment with Brad. He kept me on a steady path to recovery, while giving me plenty to watch.
What do you think he's trying to say here?
In step-down you are given one of these to help you with breahing exercises and to cough up left over junk from surgery:
|Like, have fun explaining this one kids|
What's coughing? As you all know, pre-transplant I was a champ. I could out cough anyone. Life post-crusties is a whole new world.
I had to learn how to cough.
My first cough was so freaking wimpy and really still is. I am working on it. Between not having the urge, and feeling so much pain while doing it, it was a bit difficult.
I believe Brad was thoroughly entertained. However, his entertainment had to come to an end...the day came that Brad had to go back to Nova Scotia.
I was okay with that and he felt okay too. We were lucky that he was able to come for a few days immediately following the surgery, and that it would only be a week and he'd be back.
He also knew that I was progressing like I always said I would post-new-windbags, and that I would not be without support.
|Some other cheerleaders|