Notes on surgery, Part III

Anne-Marie was barely awake. Full of local and general anesthetics, she was hardly able to keep her eyes open. She said a few things to me and to the others, then drifted off to sleep.

A few hours later, she came off of the more powerful pain killers and was able to hold a conversation. We talked for about an hour. She fell asleep for two. We repeated this cycle several times during our stay.

Around 10:00 that night, the nurse gave me a cot that was unfortunately just to long to avoid being hit by the door when it opened. "OK, sweetie! It's time to take your vitals!" Whack! "Oh, sorry about that." My cot was shoved this way and that at the most unseemly hours.

Friday was mostly uneventful. Anne-Marie started breathing on her own and went for a couple of walks around the nurse's station. We spent a good part of the afternoon trying to figure out if we would--or even could--stay Friday night in the hospital. When all the people were talked to and the verdict was handed down, we stayed. Our sister-in-law, Kara, gave us our one repreive from hospital food by bringing in sandwiches (delivering Anne-Marie from foodservice meatloaf).

Uncle Gene and Aunt Ida came to visit that night. So did Dad (Phil). Unfortunately, Dad arrived at 8:59 and only got in at the emergency entrance by telling the nice lady at the counter that he had to make an "emergency" delivery of a decorating magazine to his daughter. It will be a long time before he lives that one down--especially now that I'm publishing it on the web!

I decided to sleep on the vinyl upholstered lounge chair that night, since it was a little smaller target for the door. Someday I'll laugh about that experience. Right now, I don't want to talk about it!

Dr. Morgan happened to be in the hospital on Saturday morning. He wanted to check in one more time before we left and let us know that he would continue discussing Anne-Marie's progress among the "cancer board" of physicians that is held at Meridian Park. Apart from that, he said that he would "fade into the sunset" and leave our future treatment and consultation to Dr. Burgess and the oncologist.

The crowd of doctors, nurses, and assistants waved as Anne-Marie was wheeled down the hall. We got to our front-row parking space, eased into the car, and headed HOME.