Nobody should have to get up at 5 o'clock in the morning for surgery. It should not still be dark on your way to the hospital. Hospital gowns should not gape open in the back. Ok, that last one has nothing to do with early surgery times, but it's still a fact...
Hubs and I rolled up to the hospital a little before 6 AM for his shoulder surgery today. He had a Valentine date with a surgeon. Actually, he's back in an operating room with him as I type. Scopes and utensils and grinder thingies and who-knows-what-else are digging around inside Hubs' shoulder. SLAP tear (Superior Labrum Anterior and Posterior) repair is going down at this very moment. He'll emerge from surgery with his arm in a sling and a pain-numbing block in his shoulder. And an IV full of some form of painkiller no doubt. Today should be interesting, huh?
At one point before they wheeled him back, the room was full of dry-humored nurses and MDs. I'm really not sure exactly how many of them were going to be in the operating room...I feel like all of them were by the way they talked. I envisioned 18 white-coated and green-scrubbed men and women crowded around the little tv that has Hubs' muscles and tendons and ligaments emblazoned across its screen. Maybe they're all in there right now, shooting the breeze over his bum shoulder. I'm guessing the tall, lanky anethesia nurse named Dan just made a goofy joke which he followed up with "Psyche!" like he did in the pre-op room this morning. Yes, that happened. The 90's called while we were in there and asked for their catchphrase back.
Oh, if they were all in the operating room chatting it up, they aren't now. Hubs' surgeon is walking toward me...
******
Surgery=success! The surgeon just informed me that the tear was indeed just as bad as he thought, but that it has been safely repaired! The marvels of modern medicine never cease to amaze me. A doctor just made some incisions in my husband's shoulder, stuck a camera of all things inside there, took a look around, ground down some bone, and stitched up a torn piece of cartilage. Crazy. God's so cool to gift people with such talent. Now I just have to wait another couple of hours before I can drag my groggy, slinged-up Valentine back to the comforts of our own home. Oh goodness, I hope they call me back to the recovery room soon...a man wearing an over-bearing dose of cheap cologne just walked in the waiting room and now my nose hairs are burning up as we speak...
Maybe I should take a trip back to the ghost-town of a cafeteria in the basement. Even the eerie glow of the juice cooler and the steamy tray of faux eggs has got to be better than the potential migraine Mr. You-Can-Smell-Me-Coming-A-Mile-Away is gonna give me. Although, these nice waiting room chairs do recline. And 5 o'clock did come pretty early this morning...
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