I’m not sure how many people celebrate their birthdays by scheduling outpatient surgeries. I’m also not sure how many people who have scheduled outpatient surgeries on their birthday have had complications, thus making a 2-hour outpatient surgery an over 5-hour inpatient admission to the hospital. Said hospital also happened to be located 2.5 hours away from my residence, thus complicating matters a bit more for my family.
It definitely was not how I was expecting to spend my 49th birthday. I had fully expected that my husband and I would be home bound from the surgery in Columbus, Ohio by midafternoon on the same day of the surgery. I was the first surgery of the day; it was a routine surgery. So yes, I had some expectations about the outcome. I was so certain of this (maybe so optimistic would be a better statement), that I made plans for the rest of the week. I had actually scheduled a hair appointment for the following day along with a business call.
Needless to say, I was greatly surprised when I woke up in the recovery room, asked what time it was and was told 4:35pm. My surgery had commenced promptly at 7:30am. I remember saying that they needed to release me because we had a long drive home. That’s when they told me I was being admitted. Wait, what? Admitted? Why? Those were the thoughts I had before I fell back to sleep.
When I awoke about 30 minutes later, I asked those very questions. The very kind nurse in recovery explained in detail what had transpired and the surgery that was necessary. The pain that I was now experiencing told me that I didn’t need to go home. In fact, by then I didn’t want to go home. I just wanted to see my husband (whom I could not see in recovery because of COVID) and be admitted to a hospital room. What I really wanted was pain killers and sleep.
I was still quite groggy when they finally had a room prepared for me. It was after 5:30pm and I was the last patient wheeled out of recovery. I remember making a comment about shutting the place down. That was fun when I was in college, shutting down a bar for the night. It has a totally different, not so fun context, when closing down the recovery room in a hospital.
They finally got me to my room (990-A) where my husband was waiting for me. I get a little teary eyed even typing that. We have been through so much over the past year and a half, and I keep coming up with new challenges for us. (I have had four different surgeries in just over one year). But he is always right there standing by me and taking care of me when I can’t take care of myself. I was inpatient for three days and he made the over 5 hour round trip commute to spend time with me, to sit on the edge of my bed, to help me get around, to hold my hand, and to watch the limited offerings on the hospital television. (We watched a lot of Golden Girls reruns, and Forged in Fire when it was available)
I have been home from the hospital for just over a week. While the first few days were rough, really rough, (I broke down last Saturday morning because it just hurt so bad) things are improving each day. Now that he has gone back to work, I have a lot of time to myself and will continue to do so as my full recovery is 6-8 weeks. But I fill my days with some work from home (usually first thing in the morning when I am the sharpest), reading (I just finished Jordan B. Peterson’s 12 Rules for Life), and watching television (I have taken to watching the entire series of Party of Five – from the mid/late 90’s – great show by the way). By late afternoon, I am exhausted and not worth much. Reading and watching television really wears you out.
The doctors had warned me that I would be fatigued, very fatigued. Well, me and fatigue don’t get along all that well. I’m active, I’m busy, I’m social, I’m energetic, I’m always on the go, but these days walking from the kitchen to the office with a cup of coffee takes its toll on me. And because I cannot do much it gives me plenty of time to think. Thinking is not always a good thing.
Therefore, I have been very pensive lately, reflecting on a number of different things. The list is endless, so I won’t bore you with it. And pensive sometimes makes me sad, and sadness sometimes makes me resentful. So the last couple of days have been a bit distressing for me and my escape is Party of Five. But, in the midst of Season Four, Charlie is diagnosed with cancer. So it has unleashed a whole other host of issues to think about.
Well today while I was taking my shower, I decided to listen to the Party of Five soundtrack. To answer your question, yes, I was a big fan of the show when it was on TV. In fact, the nights that it aired I would not even answer the telephone during the show…I didn’t want to miss any of the plot.
But the soundtrack. There is a song by the BoDeans called Heart of a Miracle. Listening to that song made me realize all of the miracles that I have experienced since I first began feeling not so great about a month and a half ago. It was a miracle that I was referred to the best OBGYN at OSU. It was a miracle that he scheduled an appointment with me just one day after the referral. It was a miracle that he spent over 2 hours with me on my initial visit. It was a miracle that he scheduled surgery less than one week after my consultation. It was a miracle that my problem was discovered and treated at one of the top rated hospitals in the country by two of the top rated surgeons. It was a miracle that I was discharged after 3 days. It was a miracle that I was cleared for a normal diet just days after surgery. It is a miracle that I am recovering as well as I am.
But those aren’t the only miracles, there are hundreds of others from my mom and sister visiting me the day after I got home (my mom even brought me wedding soup and egg salad – she makes the best egg salad), to the phone calls, messages, texts and flowers I have received, to my boys taking care of me and making sure that I don’t do too much, to one of the principals stopping to visit with her son who happens to be a priest and who brought me communion, to reading books on the porch when its nice out, to cuddling with the dogs who have been my constant companions, to our chaplain who also brought me communion and stayed to visit, to everyone who continues to check up on me. Those, and a million other little instances like those, are the heart of a miracle and I am truly grateful.
So today, I just want to thank everyone who has been at the heart of a miracle in my life. I am grateful for your love, care, prayers, support, kindness, and friendship. And today, please pray for me and I will continue to pray for you.
Tattoos, Motorcycles, Beer, Bourbon and Faith 