But freedom don't come free folks. Yesterday was a long, hard and rough day. I was told to be at the hospital at 11:30 am. That made the morning so long. George tried to let me sleep in but one loud thing after another caused me to face the morning with no coffee at 7:00am. I read my bible, straightened up a bit and took it easy. George entertained Georgie the entire morning (which made his afternoon super long). They had breakfast, went for a run, went to the park and played toys. Then we set off for the hospital. After check-in, the Georges hung around as long as they could before the little one was too curious and energetic to take anymore. They left around noon and I sat by myself in a loud, busy waiting room where TVs blared, cell phones dinged and buzzed, and where I heard, in unison, every language except english as loved ones loudly conversed as they waited their turn. Finally around 1:00 they called me back and I donned my lovely gown, had an IV started, answered countless questions and watched Friends' episodes on the TV. My roommate was a little old Asian lady who did not want to hear the TV but still wanted it on. She was pitiful by the way. She told every doctor that came in that she was scared and to please take care of her. They were all caught off guard at having to extend some compassion in the middle of their busy day. I hate to say it but it was true. I said a few prayers for her while I sat there and waited my turn. As miserable as I was at 2:00pm with no caffeine, water or food in my system, her continuous plea to the doctors and nurses provided me with amazing perspective. From the conversations I overheard, she waited for a cancer removal and biopsy to see if whatever it was they intended to remove was benign or malignant. Each time I would start to have a pity party about my jaw pain, or the fact that I had no family or friends here to wait with me, or that I was NPO after four weeks of pretty much being NPO, her frail, sweet voice would ring in my right ear, "Please take care of me doctor, I am so scared". Bless her little sweet heart. Bless it Lord. And thank you Lord for your grace and mercy in perspective. SO at 2:45 they finally came for me. I became extremely anxious on the OR table as they prepped me for surgery. If you've never experienced this, I hope you never have to. Face up as you stare at the ceiling tiles, the nurses and assistants contort your arms and legs into positions that are convenient for them. You feel like a piece of meat on the slaughter board. The staff laugh and chat jovially like its just the best day ever. They move fast with precision and purpose and ask you pointed questions in order to make you feel like you are part of the party. But they forget to answer them so you do not feel like part of the party. Thanks for the effort though. Then you see the digital clock on the wall with the time. Just as you begin to picture yourself in an episode of Grey's Anatomy, they push that lovely Versed. Ouch, the bolus hurts but then…oh then….you care about nada, you begin to think this IS the best day ever. Wow, I feel great! My headache is gone, my anxiety is gone, and there's nothing going on in my head. Complete and utter bliss. UNTIL……here comes my doc. That's good because he's the one we've all been waiting for to do this thing. But bad because he just rips out the wires and ruins my Versed bliss bubble. Tears came then and did not stop until about an hour later. The pain meds are good, and my mouth is numb but I can't stop the tears. It doesn't hurt anymore but still I can't stop crying. They told me I would be asleep for the procedure. This was not so. I am a very tough girl. Anyone who knows me will agree. I rarely cry because of pain. I admit I am emotionally sensitive and shed lots of tears because of that, but physically- not much touches me. But this I will never forget. The nurse in recovery was very sweet and brought me tissues but she said the wrong thing to me. She said, "Sometimes when we are really brave about surgery and then its all over, it just comes crashing down on us". Well, two things... 1. Whats all this "we" business and 2. The tears were mine and I know my emotional tears from my pain tears. Those were pain tears. I think she was right in a lot of cases and I appreciate the tissues she brought me, but she was wrong about why I cried and it really bothered me. Then I went to recovery where the nurse brought me a cup of coffee at 3:45 pm. What a gift. She is my new best friend. I think her name was Christine. We had good talks and she never accused me of bravery. Then we called George and he came to get me. On the way home I heard all about the boys' day. They rode a train at the mall, ate at Red Robin and then went to the arboretum. Mr. Mom was on point today. By the time we arrived home, I could tell he had had enough. Little George out all day minus his nap is not a good combo. Add yours truly as a patient - poor big George! We all ate dinner together and after George bathed George, I got to read him books. I absolutely cherished it. Books just don't sound as good through clenched teeth. He went straight to sleep and his parents let out a sigh of relief. Our big day was over. Apparently George was up twice last night with bad dreams. When he woke up this morning I asked him what his dreams were about. He said, "One was about mommy and the 'nother one was bout my teeth hurting" So who thinks yesterday affected him? Poor baby.
Today was great but I am exhausted. George called with good news/bad news. Conference was cancelled so he was on his way home but he was sick. Since he walked in the door he's been in bed with a fever and chills. Role reversal. What would we do without each other? Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers as I faced this tough season of life. As always God was good to us and blessed us immensely. Thank you Lord.
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