The Worst Kind of Waiting...

Otherwise known as... The Best Fifteen Minutes of My Day...

Thirteen months ago, after a routine colonoscopy, my father learned he had a malignant tumor.  It rocked our world, and was written about in detail in the Growing Pains post.  A couple of weeks later, he had surgery to remove the tumor.  The surgery was successful... however, Dad, being Dad, went back to work as soon he could, and being the custodian he is, began to lift weight which exceeded the medically recommended limit. 

The hernia... make that double hernia... ensued.

Because of the chemotherapy and radiation that Dad was undergoing as preventative treatment, his surgeon (who is beautiful and lovingly referred to as Dad's girlfriend) didn't want to operate to put his parts back in their rightful abdominal place until the treatment was complete.  Last month Dad finally finished his last bit of chemo, and the surgery was scheduled... for today.

I met my mom at the hospital this morning, and a short while later we were allowed to see my dad before his surgery.  When the nurse called my mom, I picked up my things as well, and as I started to walk through the pre-op door was told, One at a time.

The nurse couldn't have said that when she clearly saw it was my intention to go with my mom? 

Not one to be obstinate (at least not at the hospital), I acquiesced, No problem. 

A couple of minutes later Mom came back to the waiting room, and it was my turn to see Dad.  One of the first things he said to me was to make sure to take Mom out for breakfast because she hadn't eaten.  (Mom didn't even make coffee this morning; she didn't want to Dad to smell its delicious aroma because he wasn't allowed to partake.)  I promised him I would.  We talked for a few minutes more, then his surgeon came by and explained the procedure to us, and described a couple of different scenarios, in the event that the hernia was larger than she anticipated.  

I'm glad my dad has been through all of this with Dr. S.    She is a great doctor, with an excellent bedside manner.  I felt good about leaving him in her skilled hands.  When the time was right, I leaned over, kissed him on the cheek, and expressed my love to my darling dad.  It was hard walking out of the pre-op area and walking away from Dad.  But I had faith that he would be okay.

After I returned to the waiting room, I motioned to Mom to get up.  Dad said we should go get something to eat. 

Sounds good.  I'm hungry.

When we got into my car, we talked about where we'd like to eat, and settled on Panera Bread at the Loop, a somewhat nearby shopping center.  The surgery was expected to commence at 9:00, and take three hours.  It was just after 8.  We had a lot of time to kill, and neither of us could bear the thought of wringing our hands in the hospital while enduring the wait of a lifetime.   

After we ate at Panera, we wandered over to the mother of all craft stores, Michael's, where I picked up Christmas cards for my colleagues and an unnamed something for a dear friend.  (She reads the blog and I don't want to give away my little surprise!)  We were really just killing time, though, until Lenscrafters opened at 10. 

At 37, I have long noticed that my eyesight isn't what it used to be.  Things seems to be less sharper than before, and I find this somewhat disconcerting.  Long story short, I had an eye exam and walked out with the knowledge that later in the day I would be picking up the coolest pair of iridescent black and blue frames to help with the astigmatisms I have in each eye. 

Mom and I returned to the hospital.  About an hour later, Dr. S. came out and told us how the operation went.  Dad was supposed to be able to go home today.

That's not happening. 

Dr. S. had to make a much bigger incision because Dad's hernia was broader than she expected.  He didn't let himself rest enough after the tumor-removal surgery, and continued to do too much, and now he's paying for it.  He's spending tonight in the hospital, and possibly tomorrow night as well, in order for the staff to help him manage his pain.

After talking with Dr. S., I drove to my school to attend our office Christmas party.  I had missed our Christmas brunch due to the surgery, and I wasn't about to miss all of our holiday festivities.  It was just for a couple of hours, and at that point, all Mom and I would be doing was waiting.  The gathering was fun; we had a Yankee gift exchange and after drawing the dreaded number 1, I was pleased to have my gift stolen so that in turn I could steal a particularly merry gift-- a basket full of chocolate, a candle, an adorable Santa Claus, a poinsettia plant, and a positively divine Pinot Noir.  Merry Christmas, indeed!

After the party, I checked in with my mom via cell phone, drove out to Lenscrafter to pick up my super-cool new spectacles, and returned to the hospital, where we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Waiting in a hospital really is the worst kind of waiting.

Eventually, my mom was allowed into the recovery room.  They didn't yet have a hospital room for my dad, because his hospital stay was unplanned.  After a few minutes, she returned, and told me it was my turn.

Dad looked a bit paler than he had in the morning, but other than that he looked okay, all things considered.  The first thing he said to me?

What happened to your hair?

I had pulled my lengthening hair back into a low bun.  I turned around to show him the back.  It's still there, Dad, I just pulled it back! 

I haven't seen my girlfriend, Dr. S. 

Dad, I think she probably went home.  I recounted everything that she had told me regarding the surgery, and emphasized the fact that he had to rest over the next eight weeks, no matter what.  Anything else might result in another hernia. 

We will do everything possible to avoid another hernia.

I stayed with him for about fifteen minutes before escorting my mom home, following Dad's implicit instructions.  They were the best fifteen minutes of my day.