Surgery Day + 2

Going home From the hospital and getting a  reprieve from the governor for  your prison sentence are about equal in importance .  Dr. Kai says I can go home tomorrow. The usual hospital stay is one to four nights so two nights does not sound so bad, kind of like a cheap cruise package - three days and two nights - only not so cheap. The modern hospital wrist band includes a bar code which is scanned with the administration of each pill, shot, treatment, blood draw, meal delivery, and therapy. There is a definite cha-Ching sound with each wave of the scanner wand.

Dr Kai passed the HIPAA test yesterday. Or was it day before yesterday? Anyway, as Dear Husband and Belle Fille ( that's the lovely French term for step daughter) waited to speak to someone as the surgery was over, they witnessed an older doctor stick his head out the door of the surgical sanctum and deliver a cryptic "your loved one has survived" message broadcast to the anxious family and everyone else in the area. As the family jumped up and rushed forward he was already receding back behind the safety of the "surgery personnel only" door. So it was with something more akin to suspense than anticipation that they awaited Dr. Kai's appearance. When he did appear, a bit wan and with bloodshot eyes, he invited them into the surgical area and patiently and privately revealed the details of the operation. He reassured them everything went well and told them they could join me in my room momentarily. That's how it is supposed to go!

By Day 2 I was ready to eat grilled cheese and tomato soup, my version of comfort food. I could visit the bathroom on my own. Love that! I was alert, awake, pretty comfortable due to the miracle of pharmacology. Why didn't my nerve block work? "Sometimes they don't." No matter, I was doing well, albeit slightly breathless. The respiratory people kept telling me to breathe more deeply. Did my arm hurt? Not really. It burned a bit, the bandage from collar bone to inner elbow was kind of scary, but pain? No more than the miserable eleven months previous and I didn't have the benefit of drugs, staff and hospital flowers to dull the discomfort then.

I was still wearing hospital gowns, had not the energy nor desire to delve into my tote bag of carefully chosen, chic pjs. The gripper bottomed hospital socks were better than my color coordinated socks, especially since I was not wearing anything they coordinated with. A hairbrush and a toothbrush seemed to be all the grooming tools I needed. Why did I bring all that stuff? The only toy I needed was the TV remote control. A second slightly restless night.