Another week went by and still there was no real prospect of when the surgery would be done.
Except, late on the afternoon of November 3rd a male nurse came along with shaving foam, razors and a set of theatre garb.
Himself was shaved, arms, legs, back, sides and chest…oh yes and the twiddly bits too(that is going to itch when it grows back).
Then he was told that 8 am the following morning he would be making his debut in thestre.
That he was going to be getting his triple bypass surgery.
He was very apprehensive about it all.
What am I saying?
He was crapping bricks and building a wall to hide behind.
I had not planned to go that .Thursday evening, but some friends were going and asked me if I would like to go with them.
Well, when I thought about it I had to go…give him a hug and tell him to put on his big boy jocks.
That this operation needed to be done because he could not come home safely until it was.
I slept not one wink that night…and I would guess that he didn’t either.
I had brought his iPad home so we could not even have a face time before he went down.
I had decided that Tyler and I would go on the bus to Blackpool.
Not to visit the hospital, but to have a blow along the front…have a pub lunch….maybe do a bit of shopping.
Just anything that would distract me, but have me in the vicinity ‘just in case’.
I had been told that the op could take as little as three hours or as many as six or even eight hours.
By 2.30 I could stand it no longer so I rang the Intensive care unit.
It was a very bad line, but the gist of it was that himself had been transferred out of thestre to them at ten minutes to two.
He was sedated and as far as they knew the operation had been straightforward.
Once I knew that I wanted to come home….and by this time the weather had turned nast and it was tipping it down.
I thought I might have gone asleep on the bus, but I didn’t.
I didn’t really sleep that well that night either.
All kinds of scenarios were jigging through my head.
But, the reality was, the operation was done and dusted.
Now came the recovery.
Except, late on the afternoon of November 3rd a male nurse came along with shaving foam, razors and a set of theatre garb.
Himself was shaved, arms, legs, back, sides and chest…oh yes and the twiddly bits too(that is going to itch when it grows back).
Then he was told that 8 am the following morning he would be making his debut in thestre.
That he was going to be getting his triple bypass surgery.
He was very apprehensive about it all.
What am I saying?
He was crapping bricks and building a wall to hide behind.
I had not planned to go that .Thursday evening, but some friends were going and asked me if I would like to go with them.
Well, when I thought about it I had to go…give him a hug and tell him to put on his big boy jocks.
That this operation needed to be done because he could not come home safely until it was.
I slept not one wink that night…and I would guess that he didn’t either.
I had brought his iPad home so we could not even have a face time before he went down.
I had decided that Tyler and I would go on the bus to Blackpool.
Not to visit the hospital, but to have a blow along the front…have a pub lunch….maybe do a bit of shopping.
Just anything that would distract me, but have me in the vicinity ‘just in case’.
I had been told that the op could take as little as three hours or as many as six or even eight hours.
By 2.30 I could stand it no longer so I rang the Intensive care unit.
It was a very bad line, but the gist of it was that himself had been transferred out of thestre to them at ten minutes to two.
He was sedated and as far as they knew the operation had been straightforward.
Once I knew that I wanted to come home….and by this time the weather had turned nast and it was tipping it down.
I thought I might have gone asleep on the bus, but I didn’t.
I didn’t really sleep that well that night either.
All kinds of scenarios were jigging through my head.
But, the reality was, the operation was done and dusted.
Now came the recovery.