The human body can be amazing. I got up about 4:30 this morning because I had to take my husband to the hospital for hip surgery. He has run his hip into the ground from too much flag football, rugby, running, softball, etc. He has been rough on his body, but I think he’s had fun doing it. Now he’s paying the price. Since we have been married he has broken his wrist, sprained both ankles, broken his collar bone, punctured his lung, had vocal cord damage (from getting elbowed in the throat during a rugby game), had a hernia operation; what else?… Today the doctors cut out some cartilage that had come loose and was causing problems and pain. He is eventually going to have to have hip replacement surgery, but for now, the doctor says he still has a little life left in this one.
After I dropped him off at the hospital at 6, I returned home to take the boys to the dentist at 7, after which I dropped them off at school at 8. I then raced back to the hospital arriving at 9, 30 minutes later than I had told him I’d be back, thinking he would be in recovery wondering where I was. Well, he didn’t roll out of surgery until 12:15. During that time I flipped through most of the 10,000,000 magazines in the waiting room and learned the name of every baby born to a celebrity in the past 2 years, looked over the shoulder of the guy next to me who was playing a game on his laptop (I wish I had thought to bring mine!), ate a honey bun from the vending machine and sat there trying to lick all of the sticky from my hands afterward (I would have gone to the bathroom to wash it off, but it was a 15-minute walk one-way on the other side of the hospital, and of course they would call my name while I was gone); I watched the Ellen Show, Millionaire, and The Price Is Right (when the news at noon came on about Ike, I zoned out) and started reading The Pilot’s Wife by Anita Shreve. The book has been sitting on my bookshelf unread for years, so I grabbed it on our way out the door. I realized after the first few pages that it was not the best book for me to read today. My husband is a pilot; granted he was in surgery, not flying. But just the same.
Finally we were in the recovery room. And the waiting game started all over again. We had to wait for him to go to the bathroom, for the anesthesia to wear off, for the doctor to come check on him, for him to practice on the crutches, for the medications to be ready at the pharmacy (I had to sign a form saying I was taking a narcotic home!)… When we finally got home and I got him into bed, I made lunch and collpsed on the couch in front of the tv. I was on the edge of nodding off when the kids started filing in from school. And then their afternoon sports schedule started.
I left son #2 in charge of husband with strict orders to call me if he tried to do anything other than sleep, eat, watch tv, or sleep. Son #1 had a cross country meet at 5, daughter had softball practice at 5:30 (20 minutes away); I went back to get son #1 after his meet, returned to get daughter, arrived back home at 7:30, and popped frozen meals in the microwave for dinner. Husband decided it was time to get up and eat, so I popped in another frozen meal; I gave husband the narcotics from the doctor and put him back to bed at 9. It’s now 10 and everyone but me is in or on their way to bed. I am beginning to think if I don’t get there soon myself, my body will reject the thought of sleep and keep me awake until tomorrow night.
But first I need to clean up the kitchen, vacuum the living room, sweep the foyer, … Oh darn, I missed my run today. Maybe I’ll do it all tomorrowwwwww….zzzzz…..