Eat, Pray, Hurl: The Saga Continues
Once they finally called Robert back for surgery the prep took about two hours. During that time, family and friends came in to visit, pray, and stall the inevitable. Around 7:30, it was time. I leaned in for a hug and he puckered up for a kiss… and I gave it to him, despite not knowing if I was contagious. But I couldn’t let him go back without a kiss. Romance!
As they wheeled him away, I tried to keep it together, made the “they’ve taken him back” announcement to the waiting room, then started pacing the hospital like a woman on a mission—well, a sick, slightly dramatic mission. I tried walking, coffee, even a bite of food. Every choice was the wrong one. “Sorry, I ate something that didn’t agree with me,” I mumbled repeatedly to restroom strangers, even though at that point, I didn’t even agree with me.
Sometime before noon, the doctor came out—surgery went great! Robert was doing well, praise Jesus. We got to see him in recovery (unconscious, tubed up, but handsome as ever). The nurse dude was very kind and explained everything. But within minutes, with much regret, I had to bolted again. Same restroom neighbor I think. Same excuse. She probably thinks I live there now.
Eventually, I made the tough call to not stay at the hospital that night. I grabbed a hotel room to battle whatever body betrayal I was dealing with. Helga (Robert’s mom) stayed with him for the night.
At the hotel, things got worse. The pain was intense. Around 5pm, I asked for a ride from my SILs to the ER. Worst decision ever. Six-hour ordeal. Five of those hours were spent in a waiting room that doubled as a casting call for a low-budget true crime show. Highlights included a methhead, a patient stating he would rather die at home than to stay there any longer , and an ambulance gurney guest who got so tired of waiting that she jumped up and just LEFT. I suspected she was just fine the moment they wheeled her into our waiting room. My SILs took turns with me in the ER and Robert and his mom a few floors up. True MVPs.
At 1 a.m., I finally started feeling human again. ER said probably food poisoning. They NEVER gave me fluids! But said I was dehydrated. Sheesh! Really!? I went back to the hotel, slept, and woke up the next morning a new woman…a women who felt like a dehydrated raisin.
So then I got ready and headed out to see Robert. He looked so much better—still a tube collection going on, but awake, smiling, and recognizable as my husband. Helga looked exhausted – another true champ. But we were all so relieved the first part was over and Robert was doing so good they called him an A+ patient!
Thank you, God… and also Gatorade.
