(Un)comfortably Numb
Operation day is here again. He's gone to theatre again. And the wife and I are sitting in a cafe making brittle conversation again. We're in for a long wait.
The wife said she found coming in to the Big National Hospital yesterday harder than last time. The surgeon went through the risks of the operation and the side effects in her clear direct manner. They are so much worse than the last operation that the wife found it hard to take. She had a cry before returning to the boy. Perhaps I should have come with her rather than finishing up at work. But we agreed to save up what remains of my leave. And its not as if we haven't been told all this several times before. Just the proximity is different.
Didn't sleep very well. Lots of dreams. Not about the operation specifically, more about work and life. All with the themes of anxiety and justifying myself. Trying to justify what we are putting him through. We've discussed it endlessly but it doesn't really help. We still might be condemning him to serious side effects and the tumour still there. And the unexplored, what would we do if he died.
Early start. Last minute packing to be done, shave and make tea for the wife (not a morning person). The night nurse got the boy dressed and gave him a cuddle before leaving. He really likes her, especially as they play together. Too much so sometimes, as happened last night. So he was asleep late and up early. Made him a bit clingy, especially to the wife.
Got to the ward on time. Met by a nurse who looked after him a lot following his first operation. She is very good and very nice. The boy played on the ward until it was time to go to theatre. The wife carried him and held him while he had the anaesthetic. Its surprising how different unconscious looks from asleep. More like death. Never a comforting thought.
Another four or five hours before he comes back to the ward. Time passes so quickly when you don't want it to pass and so slowly when you do. Odd how little emotion we feel whilst waiting. A bit of adrenalin but otherwise just numb.
The wife said she found coming in to the Big National Hospital yesterday harder than last time. The surgeon went through the risks of the operation and the side effects in her clear direct manner. They are so much worse than the last operation that the wife found it hard to take. She had a cry before returning to the boy. Perhaps I should have come with her rather than finishing up at work. But we agreed to save up what remains of my leave. And its not as if we haven't been told all this several times before. Just the proximity is different.
Didn't sleep very well. Lots of dreams. Not about the operation specifically, more about work and life. All with the themes of anxiety and justifying myself. Trying to justify what we are putting him through. We've discussed it endlessly but it doesn't really help. We still might be condemning him to serious side effects and the tumour still there. And the unexplored, what would we do if he died.
Early start. Last minute packing to be done, shave and make tea for the wife (not a morning person). The night nurse got the boy dressed and gave him a cuddle before leaving. He really likes her, especially as they play together. Too much so sometimes, as happened last night. So he was asleep late and up early. Made him a bit clingy, especially to the wife.
Got to the ward on time. Met by a nurse who looked after him a lot following his first operation. She is very good and very nice. The boy played on the ward until it was time to go to theatre. The wife carried him and held him while he had the anaesthetic. Its surprising how different unconscious looks from asleep. More like death. Never a comforting thought.
Another four or five hours before he comes back to the ward. Time passes so quickly when you don't want it to pass and so slowly when you do. Odd how little emotion we feel whilst waiting. A bit of adrenalin but otherwise just numb.
3 Comments:
Ctel - just want you to know that all your friends, even those like me in the frozen north, are thinking of you, Mrs Ctel and Little Ctel.
(and yes, calling you Ctel is bananas, for those of us who know who you are ...)
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