I,
Edie the pill pusher, have been asked to guest post for T who was
fileted with a surgical knife today. As you can see, she's been kind of
busy. She got up at predawn thirty to drive to her surgical destination,
so that she could wait several hours for her procedure to begin.
Shortly after 8 a.m., she was well on her way to OR to have her
front-right lobe, shall we say, sliced and diced into oblivion. A little
over an hour later, her surgeon emerged to say, "Everything went
great." (He gets paid to work with his hands, folks, not with words.
Give him a break.) Now, for once in her life, she can truly say that she
is left-leaning.
By the time T reached her awaiting entourage,
she was lucid and had full presence of mind. She was pained but
famished, so to make the medicine go down, she got a small cup of ice
cream which she inhaled. It was followed by a Vicodin chaser which might
has well have been water. And to think that the doctor's office had
informed her that she'd be fine with just a couple of Tylenol to soothe
the pain. You try getting a pound of flesh hacked off and see how you
feel. After a toasted cheese which was all that with a bag o' chips
which she also inhaled rapidly, she was still greatly pained. I, Edie
the pill pusher, encouraged her to ask for more pain meds so she could
rest. What good is surgery if you can't slip into a narcotic haze? She
agreed that less pain was just the thing she needed, and the nurse gave
her a hit of morphine which worked quite nicely. Nighty, night, T. Edie,
exit stage right.
Squeamish Alert: Later, the nurse gave T meds
on an empty stomach, and that didn't go so well. She tumbled her cookies
a couple of times. I, Edie the pill pusher, called and suggested more
anti-nausea meds which T started to ask for by the time I got off the
phone. (I wonder what else I can ask her to do while she is in her
compromised state.)
All that was four hours ago. Of course, I
don't know what's happened since then, but I am not going to call T's
mom at eleven-thirty at night since she got up so dreadfully early
because I value my life.
I do know that T has two drains that she
will have to maintain for a couple of weeks. Fun, fun. By mid-morning, T
is supposed to be on her way home. Over the river and through the woods
may not be the most comfortable ride, so in the words of T, "Keep
praying."
By the time I left her, T had some of the color back in
her face, and her fuzzy, little head was just as cute as ever. T is a
trooper and has done remarkably well. T'ain't no surprise to me. God is
her strength. She'll be just fine, come what may, because she knows
Whose she is.
In another two to six weeks, she can go back to
work. In the meantime, she has some healing to do. I'm sure she'd love
it if you sent her card and maybe some chocolate. Perhaps a bag of Jelly
Bellys that she could eat in the dark. And remember, those prayers
won't be wasted. God bless us every one...and especially our T.
