Diaries I Read:
DAY 3
B was getting stir crazy. He was up, roaming the hallways. He wasn�t hooked up to an IV. We were thinking he�d get to go home that day, since he was up and around and wireless. He was eating well. We had some more visitors and things looked good. We were just waiting for the doctor to come and tell us the results of the MRI. We were expecting good news.
Around 2:30, B told me I should go home, check on the animals, take a shower, bring him back some clean clothes. I said I didn�t want to miss the doctor. He said he�d call my cell if the doctor showed up and I could come right back.
So I left. I kept my cell phone right by my side and relaxed a little, knowing that I could rush back if I received the call. I took Dixie for a walk. I took a shower and even washed my hair. I stopped by Starbucks to get B a coffee.
While in line at Starbucks, B called. �The doctor was just here,� he said. �I have a herniated disk and the surgery�s tomorrow.�
He was obviously upset. I was too. The news was terribly disappointing. And frightening. He said the doctor was already gone but I could talk to his assistant. I asked some questions. She couldn�t tell me what I wanted to hear, which was that he would be OK.
I was furious that I�d missed the doctor. I was terrified about him having surgery.
I rushed back up to the hospital floor and saw B outside in an outdoor waiting area/patio. He was sitting there in his cervical collar, with his head in his hands, sobbing. My heart broke.
It was almost as bad as seeing him lying there on the trampoline. I�ve never heard him cry like that. He was devastated. �I didn�t think it was going to be this bad,� he cried.
Our roles were suddenly reversed. For the first time, it was him who was broken up, unhinged, feeling helpless and out of control. I felt as scared and desperate as him, but I had to tell him, �This is going to be OK. Yes, it sucks that this happened to you. I�m so sorry this is happening to you. I didn�t think it was going to be this bad either. But it�s going to be OK. You�re going to have the surgery and I�m going to be here and you have a million other people who love you and we�re going to get through it.�
His parents made plans to fly out from Texas. The phone rang off the hook with people wanting to know the latest news, expecting good news, expecting that we�d be home that night. They wanted to know exactly what the surgery entailed. I hardly understood it myself. At times, I had people on my cell phone, B�s cell phone, and the hospital phone all at once.
Later, it was my turn to lose it. I cried and told B how guilty I felt, like this whole thing was my fault, that if I hadn�t made such a fuss over the trampoline this wouldn�t have happened. I told him I wished it had happened to me instead. He said he didn�t. I don�t think I told him how petrified I was that something would happen during the surgery and he�d end up paralyzed after all, or worse.
I made a private, hysterical call to my parents to give them the latest news.
That evening, my brother came by and got instructions from B to make deliveries for him the next day. I went back to the house with him to make sure he knew where everything was.
On the way home, I picked up an In & Out hamburger for B. He wasn�t allowed to eat after midnight, and I wanted to make sure he had something in his stomach.
Back at the hospital, things started going downhill. He was irritated with everything. His hands and arms hurt. After eating, he went to wash his hands and just the water running over them was unbearable. He asked for more Vicoden. It didn�t seem to help.
He got in bed and tried to get comfortable. He couldn�t. He said he was itchy. The nurses hooked him back up to the IV in preparation for the surgery the next day. They were going to give him morphine again too.
The IV started leaking. It had slipped out of the vein. His other arm didn�t have a good vein, so they started to put it in his hand. I knew that would be unbearable, so I insisted that they find another spot. The nurse called in someone else to help with the IV.
He was still so uncomfortable and becoming more and more upset. He said he was itchy all over. I felt so helpless. I told him I�d sit and scratch him all night if that would help. He said OK. I sat at the edge of his bed and scratched his legs for about 25 minutes. Then scratched his back. Finally he settled down and went to sleep.
I took some Tylenol PM to help me sleep. And to get rid of the headache I�d had since the moment the nightmare began, which had been � believe it or not � just two days before.
DAY 4
Tylenol PM works. I slept until 9:30 and felt a little guilty.
The nurses didn�t know when he was scheduled to go down for surgery. B couldn�t eat, and I felt bad even suggesting that I was hungry. By 11:00, when I got down to the cafeteria, they weren�t serving breakfast anymore. I ordered a tuna melt (which B and I had also had for lunch on Saturday before life changed � don�t think I�ll ever be able to have one again) and ate by myself.
More cell phone calls. The doctor breezed in, asked if we had any questions. Told me that the surgery wouldn�t necessarily make the pain and tingling in his hands go away. I was appalled by this news but didn�t show it because it didn�t seem to bother B. Maybe he already knew.
At noon the orderlies surprised us by coming to take B to pre-op. Andy had just arrived and we both went with them. They made us sit in a waiting room for a while.
In pre-op, B was one of about eight patients. The nurses buzzed around, it was very busy and hectic feeling. B was hooked up to all kinds of computers again. His nurse was named Cindy. She was very efficient and no-nonsense but friendly and comforting. I liked her.
We hurried to say a prayer, expecting that they�d come get him for surgery at any moment. I cried while I prayed for him.
We sat there, in uncomfortable plastic chairs, next to B�s bed. B dozed in and out. Various nurses came and checked on him, asked him questions about allergies and previous surgeries. One by one, the other patients were wheeled into surgery. We sat there and waited. And waited. The waiting room was cold. B was hungry. I was hungry.
They took his blood pressure. Gave him more morphine. Put electrodes on his head. I looked at him lying in that bed. I hated seeing him there like that. In the back of my mind, I had a tiny fear that maybe I�d never see him again. We waited.
He was anxious about the anesthesia. He was afraid he might not be fully asleep. We reassured him that he wouldn�t feel anything.
At FOUR O�CLOCK, after waiting in pre-op for FOUR HOURS, they came to get him. I gave him a kiss and they wheeled him away.
There was a lot of discussion among the nurses about where I�d be waiting and how they�d give me updates about how he was doing. They told me to expect another 30 minutes before they started surgery, approximately two hours of surgery, and an hour in recovery before I could see him. I figured that meant I�d see him around 7:30 or so. I made it clear that I wanted to know how he was doing.
Nurse Cindy gave me directions about which waiting room to wait in, even showed me where it was. She lectured me about taking care of myself, getting some rest, going home, not getting sick because then I�d be no help to B. Even though she meant well, it bugged me because I wasn�t going to go home. I was going to stay and be there when he came out of surgery.
Andy felt bad leaving me at the hospital. As much as I�d appreciated his company, I really just wanted him to go. I couldn�t be around people anymore.
He left and I went back to B�s hospital room. It was 4:15. His bed was gone. Two of my friends from work had been by and left flowers, Cliff Bars, and Asian pears, wrote a note on a napkin saying they were sorry they�d missed us.
I didn�t know what to do with myself. I squatted on the floor with my head in my hands.
The cell phone, which I�d left in the room while we were in pre-op, had a message from my aunt. I called her. She had been in the hospital for the past two hours but had just left and was at the mall next door. I was so relieved. �Can I come meet you there and get lunch?� I asked, feeling desperate.
I drove down the street and found her. I was starving. She gave me some pretzels. We walked through the mall, saw PF Chang�s. I ate orange peel chicken. I tried to talk about things other than what was happening with B. I don�t know if I really listened to what my aunt was saying.
We didn�t stay long. I wanted to get back to the hospital so I wouldn�t miss any updates about B. I found the waiting room and settled in. I thought horrible, horrible thoughts about things going wrong while they were in there with my husband cut open, knives and scalpels and screwdrivers working on his spine. On the phone, my mom told me these thoughts were normal.
My brother arrived with B�s parents. My aunt came back. We sat in the waiting room and talked a little, watched TV a little. Nobody came to tell me how B was doing.
7:00 came and went. 7:30. 8:00. We changed the channel to watch American Idol. I was getting more and more worried. Why was it taking so long? Why hadn�t they come to tell me anything? The hospital literally started shutting down. The high-school girls getting volunteer credit working at the front desk took their backpacks and went home.
By 8:30, I�d had enough. I went down the hallway, where Nurse Cindy had left me, searching for someone who could tell me something about my husband, who�d now been in surgery for four and a half hours!
All the reception windows were closed; no one was around. I walked up and down the hallway until I found a little break room where several young people (students?) in scrubs were watching AI and eating dinner. I asked if anyone could help me. One girl said she�d try, and made a phone call.
Then a nurse came around the corner and asked if I was B�s wife. She said she�d been looking for me, B was back in his room. I was livid. I told her I�d been in the waiting room for four hours. Apparently they�d been looking for me in another waiting room (damn you, Cindy!).
She apologized profusely. All I wanted to hear was that B was OK. She said he�d done �beautifully,� was surprised the surgeon hadn�t come to talk to me about it. Somehow, I wasn�t.
I rushed back to the waiting room to gather everyone else. I couldn�t get up the elevator and back to the room fast enough. I was FUMING. I was so furious that I hadn�t been with B after the surgery. I�ve been through it myself and I know that all you want is to see the people you love. And he�d been all alone.
We got to the room. He looked up through heavy eyelids and said, �Where have you been?� My blood boiled, but I was just so relieved to see him.
His parents and I sat around the room, talking quietly, for a while. B drifted in and out, mostly out. I left to get everyone something to eat � Chili�s again. B ate two or three bites of soup and drank a diet Shasta.
Around 10:30 B was awake and wanted to get up. The nurses said OK and he stood up. He swayed a little, making us nervous. He was very agitated and frustrated that he was still �so tired.� He said he wanted to just �snap out of it.� We tried to assure him that it was completely normal for him to feel like this, that he was still under the influence of the anesthesia, and that he should enjoy the rest. He wasn�t convinced.
When he went back to sleep, I took his parents back to our house and got them settled. I took a shower and changed my clothes.
When I got back to the hospital room, B was sitting up in the chair and he�d just thrown up his soup and Shasta. He was very upset about the mess he�d made. They cleaned him up and got him a new gown.
I was beat. I�d been sitting in waiting rooms for over eight hours, and my nerves were completely shot. But B was coming off of a long, drug-induced nap and he was ready to go. I ran around helping him with various requests until about 1:00 am, when I finally told him that I had to lie down for a while. He seemed surprised.
Working at home - Wednesday, Nov. 17, 2004
Toronto - Tuesday, Nov. 16, 2004
On the way to Toronto... - Tuesday, Nov. 09, 2004
A Good Day - Monday, Nov. 08, 2004
Another letter - Thursday, Nov. 04, 2004