Thursday, January 15, 2015

I'm not the biggest fan of hospitals.

Mister had hernia surgery today and while it was a common and routine type of surgery I was a bit perplexed and anxious all morning. For awhile I wished I was a professional baseball player who had a lucky bat or socks or something anything to make sure he would wake all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I once read an essay about the superstition of players and their lucky objects and thought maybe I should have brought something with me even though I doubly worried that the bringing of such an object would be an omen of sorts. And so, I worried.  I worried about kissing him goodbye...would that jinx it? I worried about what to say or whether or not we should hold hands. I just worried. I know it was a common and routine type of surgery but with my life you never know.

When they took him in for prep and surgery I sat in the waiting room of the surgery center for all of two minutes before I dashed out the door into the cold (for my neck of the woods...34 degrees) early morning (it was 7:15, we had left at 6:30 for the short drive north under the prettiest pink morning sky) to the car so that I could drive off and search for coffee. Searching for coffee was not necessary for coffee's sake but for mine as I needed something to occupy my brain besides worry and I already stood out in the cold for 5 minutes as I contemplated whether or not I would jinx anything by putting the mister's jacket in the trunk of the car or wearing it? I mean, I really wondered and mumbled to myself and went back and forth and argued and thought I was being silly then thought I was being even more silly for thinking I was being silly and really you do know that the placement of a loved one's jacket could actually make for a positive outcome so I really had to think on this.

I fumbled with my stupid tiny tracphone that was designed with no intuition whatsoever in search of a way to make sure it rang if anyone needed to contact me and if you know me you know that I never have my ringer on and most probably left my phone at home or uncharged at the bottom of my purse. Not that I would know if anyone called as I have no idea what ring tone the darn thing has but I  finally figured it out, popped it into the cup holder and thought to myself that I will probably forget I put it there and go crazy looking for it later (I did and I did).

Back to the highway I zoomed to the Starbucks I saw on the way up and ordered up a sticky-sweet latte and a slice of pumpkin bread. While waiting for my order I spied someone I had met before and popped a smile on my face to say hello when I remembered that this person was virtually legally blind and probably did not see my face let alone my smile and so I awkwardly walked to the other side of the Starbucks and intently examined the mugs and snack foods as a way to keep my mind from wandering to the mister.

And so I returned to the surgery center with coffee and sugar in hand. The lights in the waiting room made my vision blurry as did the really stupid YA book I was reading on the paper white the mister stole for me at his work sponsored white elephant exchange. I read and read and read until I had about one chapter left and I thought for certain I was going to fall asleep from the blurry-eyed-ness of it all and my allergies have been attacking and the fatigue and sleepiness are enough to make me narcoleptic. There was no wifi so the iphone I use as an internet browser and camera was of no use to me nor was my laptop thought I should have been editing the three zillion photos I took this week of the kiddos at work but I didn't. Instead I spoke to the doctor who told me everything was ok and I waited for the mister to wake up so we could head home.

While waiting I pulled a stack of People magazines off the rack and thought I would read them instead of my book so I would have something to read when I was called to recovery but I couldn't do it** as there is an insane flu going around and I imagined all of the other hands that have touched the magazines so instead I rifled through a poorly organized self-published book on our local architecture (see? I'm snarky even when I'm stressed out). Then the nurse popped out to tell me to pull the car around he was ready to go so I washed my hands of crazy imaginary flue infested germs and anxiously recited the directions to the recovery room exit  (which really was just around the corner but I wasn't sure and have I told you how socially inept I am?)

I had to knock twice on the big door and it made me feel more anxious as the second round of knocking was a bit more bitchy and I don't like feeling bitchy. The door opened immediately and I spied the mister on a wheelie-bed still in his blue hospital gown and drug-induced grin on his face and I sucked a small quick breath in because even though he was fine and smiling the goofiest dopey grin, seeing a person you love in a setting that carries bad reminders of our mortality is really not my favorite thing. But he was fine and he was dopey and he really liked the heat blanket and thought a milkshake would be a good thing and after I got him into his clothes we hied off for pain pills and a chocolate shake.

The getting of the pain pills proved to be an ENORMOUS comedy of errors (three pharmacies, guys, THREE)  and the milkshake was only slightly so (I drove right by the drive-thru pick up window and had to circle though again, I'm a little out of practice as our town does not allow drive-thrus) and I had to go to the market later when the mister decided chicken noodle soup would be more pleasing than the possibly expired butternut squash business I heated up for him around 4pm as we have nothing in the fridge because my allergies keep me from behaving normally and my back has been on strike and did I tell you I got rear-ended yesterday? But hey, he's home and ice-packed and eating and shuffling and all around awful at letting people take care of him and I am so very glad for that.

Nothing really super exciting but I wanted to write this down because I think it's interesting how our memories play with us and how the things we have read or heard intercept our thoughts and I wanted to say that even with all the good and the bad and the not-so-good there is a constant underlying worry that things will fall apart and while I think it is okay to feel this way (well, sort of okay) I think it is better to accept that we cannot change the things that happen to us only our response to those things and that while I may be a little bit nutty in this nutty world I'm lucky to have someone to be nutty for.

p.s. hug a loved one today be it a person or a furball.

**and yes, I did take an instagram photo with the camera as I was going bonkers.


  1. "it is better to accept that we cannot change the things that happen to us only our response to those things" - wise words and always a good reminder! here's to nuttiness :)

  2. Anonymous4:25 PM

    Wow, what a bunch of stuff to have going on. I hope that you and your hubby are much better now. And I agree with janeray1940: "here's to nuttiness"!!!


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.