So, I'm back in the hospital.
Much as I really, really, REALLY didn't want to admit it, late last night I had to confess to Paul that I was having trouble occasionally getting a full breath. And that's one of the red flags that we've been told to watch for, so at roughly 11:30pm last night, we packed ourselves into the car and drove back to UNC Hospitals for another round of EKGs, blood draws, and endless waiting.
I'm not in the ICU; I'm just in a room in the regular unit.
The other good news is that pending a 1pm-ish blood draw result, we'll be able to go home.
My cardiologists don't think we were silly to come in. OTOH, they're pretty sure that what happened to me is a fairly common side effect of being laid up in bed for the better part of a week: a very small part of my lower left lung has slightly collapsed--they even have a special breathing exercise device that they usually send home with open-heart surgery patients to help prevent this exact thing, but they apparently didn't think to give me one because my surgery was all done through the leg cath.
The general feeling is better to be safe than sorry, and this is all new territory for Paul and me, as we're learning a whole new standard of what's "normal" for me. :/
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