Surgery Day

Paging Doctor Bettera

I am tired.  I know my husband has been through so much more today, but he snoozes, luckily.  I on the other hand am restless and anxiety filled.  I know I am operating on a seriously low battery and I keep intending to do more work but find myself darting off in so many directions I cannot focus.  Not being focused does not serve for my best work, so I opted to try this writing distraction, and here I am.   Sitting in the darkened lobby of the surgery recovery.  We have been here since 5:40 am.  I stayed with him through an hour to two of pre-op, where we tried to make jokes.  We were visited by so many doctors, nurses and fellows my mind boggled.  The team, the called themselves.  They all seemed pretty savvy so we entrusted them with wheeling my hubby away, off to induction and surgery around 7:30 am.

I faltered, our previously decided plan of how to handle things seemed off.  I didn't want to leave but knew I had to because our son was at the hotel with his Grandparents, waking up, causing chaos, wanting activity and liveliness.  I knew his they could only handle this for so long before, being out of their element, they would feel overwhelmed so I swallowed my fear and raced back to the hotel for the most joyous hour of my day,  Swimming with my son.  We swam and played and I moved with purpose, knowing this is all I would get like this today, while I secretly panicked about work I needed to do, and being away from home, and a little surgery thing going on.  No big deal, and every once and I while I would glance at my phone, not too much, but just every 15 minutes or so. Watching the text updates coming in.  

Before I knew it we were on our way back to the hospital, the whole clan in tow, and the text came through as we headed through security that he was in recovery.  A small sigh of relief, but I still had that twisting gut thing.  Waiting in the waiting room, until shortly after I received the text that he could have visitors, and off I went to see my still very woozy partner.  He was just as folks are when they first come to from anesthesia, sleep, uncomfortable, painful, abrupt.  One second wanting not to see the incisions and the next, wanting to. then want his gown off his arms, asking random questions, squeezing my hand, just general uncomfortable behavior.  He finally fessed up to his pain and they administered him a sleep inducing dose of pain medication and he drifted off.  I stayed with him till they brought him out of the OR recovery and into a general recovery room.  Then I once again went off to find the family.

Nonno and Nonna looked a little worse for wear so I took my son and we ran around the campus for a bit, literally, from the parking garage to the playground, and back again.  Until finally I made him a deal that if he listened exceptionally and came with me to eat some vegetables in the cafeteria, he would earn those slick cars he saw in the gift shop.  He was all onboard for this so we had some fun, and then ate some salad bar in the cafeteria.   He dutifully ate his cucumbers, broccoli, tomatoes, and tofu and told me he liked spinach because it makes him strong like Popeye.  Perfect.  He earned his cars so we snagged those with the understanding he would be allowed to play if I could work a bit, a routine he is familiar with, so he agreed and off we went to work and play good hour until my inlaws returned.  They saw me working away and stressing and offered to take him to play a bit more if we could go eat dinner after and I agreed, I needed the brain break, so I worked about 30 minutes more and they returned.  

I was incredibly grateful to have them, but I am not going to lie, I was a wilted flower at dinner.  I could not really get into seeing the boats on the harbor, or conversation for that matter.  I was tired and cranky.  I still am.  There is no food up here, and I am about to sleep on a couch that looks about as comfortable as a vinyl covered bench seat in an old pick up truck.  I ate a scoop of Lean with water and a mashed up banana, because it's what I had.  Thank goodness for lean, it did the trick, and funnily my husband can only eat broth and jello so he was envious of my proteiny concoction.

I wish I could say I feel fully at peace now with this over,  I was hoping so but I have anxiety about the pathologist report.  I am optimistic and hoping for and expecting the best, especially since the surgeon said everything went and looked as they planned and suspected.  So my hope is the pathology is the same, or better, curative and complete are the words I am affirming daily.  Right now I am comforted by how quiet it is in here, the gentle click, click, clicking of my keyboard.  The strange whirring sound of the elevator going up and down and my eyelids grow heavy.  I hope I can turn this brain off, to be fresh in the morning, to tackle some work and get my husband home.