Let see... Where were we?
Mom was moved to prepare for her surgery. After a while, a nurse came and fetched dad and me so we could be with her. We stood by her bed in a room barely big enough for the bed and a person to pass on each side. There was a constant jockeying for position as the waves of nurses ebbed and flowed from her room. We'd move away as best we could when they would come in the room, then move closer to her as the nurses would hasten off, only to retreat again as new nurses entered. They would insert an IV port one time, then connect her to some monitor the next. I remember them telling me what they were doing, but for the life of me I can't actually remember any of it. The only real medical thing I remember is that IV port, but I'm not sure if that's what it's really called. The needle in her arm was attached by a short tube to some sort of hub with 6 to 8 additional ports -- each with it's own miniature valve.
In between the nurses entering and departing, we got to talk with mom. She was at peace - confident in the skill of the surgeon, confident more in her beliefs. Dad and I painted on our best smiles, cracked a few lame jokes and looked down on this lady that meant so much to us.
Once the prep work was mostly complete, Dr. McDreamy, now dressed in blue scrubs and tennis shoes, came in and once again went over what was going to happen. Very soon after he left, a small company of nurses reentered, gathered up mom and all her new monitors, and wheeled her off to surgery. Dad and I wished her well and that we would see her soon.
Dad has never been able to wait patiently for anything, especially when he's nervous. When I was born, his best friend, Gary, took him across the street from the hospital and they played tennis while they waited. So, today, I got to play the part of Gary. Dad and I went to a driving range and started hitting buckets of balls. The usual small talk seemed out of place and uncomfortable, but talking about mom introduced thoughts neither one of us wished to process. So, we mostly stuck to the safety of challenging each other to match shots -- a golf version of HORSE. About 2/3 through the way through our large buckets of balls, dad's phone rang. It was time to go back.
Upon our arrival, we got to do the very thing we had tried to avoid -- wait. Mom was in recovery and would take a while to come out of the anesthesia. Dr. McDreamy was off somewhere else. The nurses couldn't tell us anything. So, we begrudingly, impatiently waited.
After an hour or so, we were told that mom had been moved up to her room and were given the room number. We came into the room and were greeted by her smile. A groggy smile, but the one we recognize and love. News finally came that the surgery was a success and Dr. McDreamy had removed about 8 inches of her colon. He had also removed a small piece of her liver for a biopsy and rooted around inside her looking for additional signs of cancer, of which he found none.
She was on her way to recovery. It would be long and it wouldn't be entirely pleasant. But now she could get on with living.
Next time chemo, a somber education for me, and a glimmer of hope
No comments:
Post a Comment