Recovery Room-Edge Style

The Man had him some surgery this past Wednesday. For those of you just joining in? Here's a past reference so you can catch up. I figured since I had diagnosed him initially, I'd let a professional do the actual surgery. I don't dig the thought of messing with guts and blood.

We headed out before dawn Wednesday morning for the drive to the Naval Hospital in JAX. Man, that is one busy town early in the a.m. We arrived with just a few minutes to spare.

Can I stop the story a second here? Thank you.

As we all know, I come from a civilian world. Civilian hospitals and what not. I am not accustomed to seeing an abundance of male nurses (a.k.a. corpsmen) in military uniform. I am not accustomed to being in such an old looking facility. I am not accustomed to the snarly looking faces and the lack of personality. When I worked for a hospital, we took training on how to deal with the public. When we wore the name tag with the facility name on it? We had to keep a smile on our face and greet all visitors with friendliness and offers of help. Not the case here. The only people who offered to help were in khaki uniforms. I did not feel good about this as we found our way upstairs to check in.

*Now to the rest of the story*

We were shown The Man's room and preparations started. The Man Upstairs must've known my anxiety was starting to climb because he sent the absolute bestest corpsman to my husband. He just oozed personality. Told stories of his home (St. Thomas-Virgin Islands) to keep us entertained. He was incredible and I was appreciative of his thoughtfulness. Instead of getting off at end of his shift, he ended up staying as long we did. I hated it for him, but was glad to have such an attentive person for my husband.

It wasn't long before The Man headed to surgery. Mrs. M. (who, God bless her, went with us) and I grabbed a bite to eat and settle in to wait. I was starting to get antsy and worried when his hour and a half surgery was trying to turn into a three hour wait. The doctor finally came out and filled me on how things went well. Whew. We headed downstairs to pick up his medicine and call family members awaiting news.

When we got back upstairs to his room, he was being wheeled in. Let me tell ya, that man was feeling NO pain. We got quite a few chuckles out of him. Apparently, they had to use a Foley catheter to drain the bladder so as to see the area better. Well, crap. Anyone who has had one of these done can tell you going to the bathroom that first time is almost impossible to do. (speaking from experience here) Many ounces of juice/water/soda/coffee later....he finally was able to do enough to deem him able to go home. I was helping him get dressed to go and he made the comment that he felt like The Boy (I was holding his pants for him to step into). I told him I was a professional at helping people get dressed, so he was in good hands. I didn't remind him that the people I help are usually a lot younger and shorter than me. Pants are pants, people!

It made for a long day and driving home (again, during the beginning of rush hour) was hard. I was tired and had this individual high on pain killers beside me. He kept coming and going .....suffice it to say he had great entertainment value.

It's been a good couple of days. Pain killers are the key the first few days and he's doing way better than I anticipated. Today was shower day and when I unwrapped him (he's bound around the waist), I was met with what I didn't expect. Was I supposed to take the bandages off? Was I supposed to leave them? After a call to the hospital, where I was transferred a half dozen times, I spoke to the doctor himself! How about that? He was great to talk to and said all sounded fine. I was told how to handle the bandages and if I had any questions, to please don't hesitate to call back. I was shocked I spoke to the doctor. Score for the Naval Hospital on that one. We go next Tuesday for a follow-up. If he keeps going like he is? I think all will be just fine.

In fact? He's sitting at the table right now doing homework for Statistics. Shoot. I'd be all over the couch doing what little I could. I'm just saying. I think those pain pills are working a little TOO well.

Have a good weekend, Internet. We're keeping it cool and on the interior. The Jaw-ja Skeeters are out hunting prey.

Like I said...he was feeling nooooooo pain.