I have had many surgeries, sadly, all of them to fix something or other: blocked fallopian tubes, breast lump removed, broken bones, ganglion cysts and other assorted “female related surgeries”. No nose jobs, no face lifts nothing, no boob adjustments…just things to fix this old body of mine.
My husband has had nothing, until today. He had shoulder surgery to repair damage from bone-on-bone rubbing and in turn, quite a bit of pain.
I hate surgery. It makes me face the one thing I fear more than anything, dying. When I had my hysterectomy, I asked the priest for the last rights, THE LAST RIGHTS, just in case you know. When I had the breast surgery, I wrote a letter to my daughter in my journal in case I died, really Karen? I have cursed my husband for bringing me to ‘my death’ each and every time I have surgery. I am not a good surgical patient.
You know if takes me 4 Valium and a Xanax to have an MRI. Imagine what it takes for me to have surgery. When I was Columbia in NYC for the breast surgery, I was rattled. We were not sure what they were going to find. The anesthesiologist comes in with a lollipop and I lost it. A lollipop? I am 40 years old! He was nice enough with a thick Russian accent and offered this lollipop to take the edge off….it was a narcotic lollipop. Took about 5 seconds for me to relax. The next anesthesiologist in the mix was a God-awful handsome young man who I wrapped my arms around and walked into that operating room like a champ. Waved good-bye to my husband……
Today, I drove him to the surgical center without events, smooth and easy, no crying, no cursing, no angst. My husband is tough and steady and puts on a brave face. I stayed with him while they prepped him and walked with him to the surgical ward doors and kissed him goodbye.
I went out into the waiting room and went to the bathroom and cried. For a moment I thought about what I would do if something happened to him. My heart would break. I sat on pins and needles until Dr. Alley came out and gave me the good news. I felt relief.
Ok, now I go back into recovery to see him and that man is sitting up, drinking juice and eating crackers, Really Chip??? No throwing up, no looking like hell warmed over, just sitting there. Now I am slightly regretting my bathroom crying episode. He is 50 shades of I feel good...well that block is still in high gear and he is living large. I wait.
Tonight I see him in the chair dozing and I get afraid. I am afraid to grow old and lose him, to not have him around to torment would be terrible. He drives me crazy, he forgets things, he needs a reminder for romance now and then and yet, I would not change a thing. We belong together.
I have threatened him with scenes from the movie Misery but no. I think I will just love him for now and hope that I do not need surgery again soon. He is a better patient and the view from this side of the swinging OR doors is much better! From my favorite move, Moonstruck, 1987 starring Cher and Nicholas Cage:
Rose: Do you love him, Loretta?
Loretta Castorini: Aw, ma, I love him awful.
Rose: Oh, God, that’s too bad.