Wednesday, September 12, 2012

September 12 update

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.