Relief

A bit more optimism today.  Is it brittle?  Sure.  We all know what lies ahead, but we must choose to ignore it.  

Where to begin.  Oh, hell. . . let's start with the non sequitur.  I'm not certain that is precisely the correct term to use here, but I'll let it stand and we'll see.  I've always thought that the photo above that I took in Havana was of a wedding party coming from the church, but now I am not so sure.  Maybe it was a rehearsal.  But who can tell in Cuba where there is a very real lack of goods.  I'm speaking of the "bride's" shoes.  Hell, I don't know.  But everyone sure looks happy. 

So I've chosen to post this photo over the one I took yesterday as my mother was going into surgery.  It was just such a downer looking thing.  My mother looks to be a corpse, and that is not how the procedure turned out. But I am getting ahead of myself.  

Yesterday morning, I knew my mother was scheduled for a surgery about which we had not been fully informed as my mother had yet to see any doctor who had explained it.  When I asked about this, I was told we would get a full consult at one o'clock.  My mother would hear the benefits and risks of the surgery and would be able to make up her mind in real time.  Sounded strange enough to me but for the fact that hospitals are now truly factories meant to crank out the most productivity and rake in the maximum amount of cash.  

My plan was. . . I am not sure what my plan was.  I did not feel 100% in the morning after another night of not maximal sleep.  I was very slow to get anything done.  And my nerves were shot.  I felt I had too many things hanging over my head.  I had seen the builder who recommended the framer I had called about my rotten floor joists.  I told him I had not heard back.  He said to call him again, so that was the plan, but I was having a hard time pulling that trigger yesterday morning.  Just nerves.  Maybe this wasn't the right guy.  Maybe he didn't want to do it.  

Mid morning, I screwed up my courage and called.  He answered.  It was a brief conversation.  He was out of town until Wednesday.  He was interested in taking the job.  He'd call.  

Somehow I let that fall on the victory side of the scale.  I mean, I felt some sense of relief.  It was nothing, sure, but it was something.  

After that, I put on my gym clothes and went to the hospital to see my mother.  The idea was that I would sit with her a bit, go work out, go home and shower, and be back to the hospital for the one o'clock consult.  But it was pretty late when I got to the hospital.  My mother was with the nurse who confirmed that at one o'clock they would wheel my mother downstairs to the IR department where she would meet the doc.  

When the nurse left, my mother began telling me about a nightmare night.  I won't go into it here other than to say my mother is no longer constipated.  That was good news. . . for me.  My mother had not been given anything to eat or drink since the night before in preparation for surgery.  It was all just waiting now.  I looked at the time.  If I left right away, I could sneak in a bit of a workout, shower, and be back in time.  So I said.  

It was going to be close.  I knew I had to be out of the gym before noon.  When I walked in, there were the peeps.  I told them I was on a limited schedule because. . . . The retired nurse knew all about the procedure my mother was having and said it was pretty common.  That made me feel better.  

I was out by noon but it felt as if I was late.  I got home, hurriedly showered, threw on some clothes and was out the door by twelve-thirty.  I was back at the hospital by quarter 'til one.  And of course. . . 

We had plenty of time to chat as we waited.  My mother said she had decided that she would go ahead and have the surgery.  It was not a surgery, really, but an injection of a glue/cement material to cover the fractured vertebrae.  O.K. 

"Last night one of the nurses came in to ask about you," she said.  

"What?  Really.  Which one?"

"She was young and petite.  Brown hair.  Nice figure."

I couldn't remember any nurses that fit the description.  

"She wanted to know if you were my son.  She asked how old you were."

"Oh. . . shit. . . whatever."  

That would surely shoot the pooch.  

"She was really interested in you," my mother grinned.  "She thought you were in your forties."

"You didn't tell her my age, did you?"

Now I know you all get sick of these tales, but there is a kicker to this one that will satisfy Q and his ilk.  

"There was another nurse who thought you were my brother," she said.  

"What the fuck!?!?  So I have one who thought I was in my forties and another who thinks I might be in my nineties."

"No. . . she thought I looked younger."

I didn't tell her that they all knew how old she was from her charts.  So yea. . . fuck off.  

I was desperately searching my memory trying to remember a nurse or a tech or even a serving girl who fit the description my mother had given me, but I couldn't.  I couldn't let it go, either, so I walked into the hallway to have a look at the nurses station.  Nope.  No luck.  

They came for my mother around one thirty.  She was wheeled into a small room in the IR ward where she was hooked up to the required machinery--heart rate, oxygen levels, blood pressure, etc.  

It didn't work.  

They took the sticky sensors off my mother and reapplied new ones.  Still no luck.  Now in my head I was going what the fuck.  

They got some new cables.  That seemed to do the trick.  They were satisfied.  I was dubious.  

"We still haven't been informed about this procedure," I said to the male nurse and the female technician.  The nurse was kind of goofy.  He talked too much, told too much, and I could tell the tech didn't trust him.  

"You go ahead and input all the information," she said.  "I'll take care of this.  The anesthesiologist will be in to see you shortly, then the doctor who performs the procedure.  He will explain everything then."

When the tech left, the goofy nurse never shut up.  He explained everything from the blankets to the cafeteria.  When he walked out for a moment, my mother said, "That guy is kind of weird."  That made me laugh.  

The anesthesiologist came in.  He was an affable man, and he explained the procedure from his end.  First this drug, then the other.  It wasn't general anesthesia but it would feel like it.  They were going to use propofol.  

A bit later, the IR doc came in.  He, too, seemed swell.  He informed us of what he would do, the upside and downside of the procedure.  He said he had been doing this procedure for twenty years.  He didn't look old enough, but he seemed confident and competent.  When he was done, I asked my mother if she wanted to do it and she gave a literal thumbs up.  

They told me I could wait in her room upstairs, that this would take about an hour and a half, so I went to the cafeteria to get some coffee.  I hadn't eaten anything yet that day, but the cafeteria food was disgusting, so I bought a Kind bar and coffee and went back to my mother's room.  

Not having cable, I never get to see the news programs, so I sat in her recliner and turned the t.v. on to MSNBC, Fox, and CNN.  

I quickly realized I had made the right decision when I cut the cable.  I was irritated by the news for the next two hours.  My mother was still not back and I was getting worried.  I took a short walk around the hallways.  The nurse saw me and said my mother was out of surgery and would be up in a bit.  

When they wheeled her into the room, she looked shot.  

"How do you feel."

"Awful," she said.  

"Well, it's over now."

"No it is not."

"What?!?"

"No.  They couldn't do it.  They tried to put me on my belly and I was screaming out in pain.  They couldn't do the procedure."

The nurse came in.  

"She says they couldn't do the operation," I said.

She just grinned.  "Yes they did."

My mother said, "No they did not!"

The nurse still grinned and said, "You were out.  You don't remember it."

"They put me out?"

"Well, mom. . . they weren't going to do it while you were awake."

"What restrictions does my mother have now?"

The nurse went to the computer to read the report.  "She doesn't have any.  She can move about as she likes.  She can be discharged tomorrow."

When the nurse left, I asked my mother if she would like some water.  She sat up and didn't scream out in pain.  She drank the water and stood up.  She walked to the bathroom.  She was standing straighter than I had seen her in a long time.  So I said.  

I stayed and talked with her for awhile, then asked her if she wanted to call her friends.  Her phone was full of missed calls.  I told her I hadn't eaten anything all day and that I was going home to cook.  I'd be back, I said.  

I walked out into the late afternoon/early evening sun.  It was hot.  The air was clear.  It felt good.  I had stops to make.  First, the drugstore to get some silicone cream for my scar.  I liked my surgeon, but fuck his complaint.  I was going to do what I'd read over and over and over was best.  The cream, surprisingly, was under lock and key. WTF?  I bought the silicone strips as well.  Next door was the liquor store.  And. . . my scotch was on sale.  A BIG sale.  Whoa!  I bought more than one bottle, and walking back to the car, I felt as if I should buy some lotto tickets.  I just felt good.  

I went to the grocers, then I went home to cook.  It was six.  I made a Campari and sat on the deck.  I would have to stay at my mother's house for awhile, I knew, to see how she was doing.  I still had way too much to take care of here at the house, but I had taken a step forward.  I'd just have to bite the bullet and spend the money to make my house whole again.  That's what people do and that, as they say, is what the money is for.  

After dinner, I went back to see my mother.  She was doing fine, but she was getting sleepy.  It was 7:30 when I got her into bed.  

"If you wake up later, just ask them for something to help you sleep.  Tell them Xanax.  They will give it to you."

"Alright."  

And that is the tale.  As I say, I am relieved as long as I don't think too far ahead.  One foot in front of the other.  

Last night, I slept well.  I fell asleep at ten and woke at five.  That was fine.  In a bit, I will call my mother.  I will be busy with her the next few days.  My cousin is coming over on Thursday to stay the weekend, so there is that.  I will make some breakfast now, then take a walk.  The sun is shining brightly now.  I'll take what I can get.