Man I Am Glad That’s Over.
January 5th, 2009To say my father’s heart surgery was a stressful event; would be the understatement of the year. (Albeit only a mere 6 days into the New Year.) But, you can say that my father’s sense of humor is what held me together.
We arrived at The Jersey Shore Hospital at 12pm. In the elevator on our way to check-in, a random lady complimented my mother’s fabulous jacket. Not two seconds after the lady exited, my father turned to me and said, “Why didn’t she say anything nice about my sweat pants?” It was at that moment, I whole-heartedly believed everything really would be okay.
[However, some lingering doubts and lightheadedness remained with me throughout the day.]
My mother and I settled into the waiting room while my father went down the hall towards pre-op. My brother Lee arrived shortly thereafter. The three of us chatted about family gossip and cracked a few jokes. Before we knew it, we were permitted visitation.
From 1pm until 3pm we joined my father in the pre-op area. My father, located in Bed 2, was now sporting a lovely paper gown, a fist full of IV’s, and white electrodes on his shoulders. To complete his outfit were blue No Slip Socks on his feet. My dad explained to us that he had to sign an actual piece of paper, a waiver of sorts, promising he would not remove the ‘No Slip Socks’ under any circumstances. Being an insurance agent aficionado, he imagined (out loud) all of the hypothetical claims that could arise in the event the ‘No Slip Socks’ had gone awry.
And then, without skipping a beat, my father shifted all of his concern towards my brother Lee.
“Why don’t you take a nap? You’re sick. You drove three hours to get here and you have a long drive home. Really, go lay down. You look tired.”
Lee replied, “Um. Nah. I am fine. Lets worry about YOU.”
The Doctor/Surgeon came into the room and explained the procedure my father was about to undergo. The Doctor/Surgeon did not pepper the conversation with excessive medical jargon. He also appeared to be quite confident which left us feeling reassured.
At 3pm, it was time. My father was going into surgery. We took turns kissing him goodbye, and just like that he was off.
We headed back to the ‘Waiting Area’ where we were greeted by long time family friends, Ronnie and Stuie. (They are awesome.)
Knowing that my mother and Lee were occupied, distracted, and entertained with The Company, I immediately attempted to access The Internet.
Of course the hospital had Wi-Fi, but this was like no other Wi-Fi I had ever encountered. It was like the worlds biggest Internet Tease. I could get only get onto AOL. (Who even uses AOL anymore?) Any attempt to access Facebook, Twitter, This Blog, or any other form of communication, all I would receive was this error message:
Websense Enterprise:
Access to this web page is restricted at this time.
Reason:
Your policy filters category “Social Networking and Personal Sites” at all times.
Great. Why?
According to my RLBFF Leslie, that was because “Social Networking and Personal Sites” use a “CrapTon” of bandwidth costing the hospital more money.
[Seriously, CrapTon? I love that word.]
For the next hour and a half, time stood still. Every minuet felt like an hour. Every second seemed to last longer than the one before. We each took turns silently peering at our cell phones and checking the time as if we weren’t watching the clock. In reality, I was waiting for the appropriate amount of time to pass to show cause for concern.
To stop myself from traveling down the road of “What If’s” I was lucky enough to be able to ‘Instant Message’ and ‘Incessantly Text Message’ my ‘RLBFF Leslie’ and a few other of my closest friends. But that did not make the time move any faster.
Just when I couldn’t stand it for one more second, the Doctor/Surgeon appeared bearing Good News. The procedure was a success. There were no complications. In fact, his heart only had a 50% blockage, not 70% as previously speculated. Thus, they did not need to give my father a stent. He would be going to the recovery area shortly.
Of course as soon as I ducted out for a smoke break my father wheeled past my family. The first words he said to Lee were, “Did you get to take a nap.” That’s my daddy. Forever concerned about everyone else’s well-being.
When I walked into the recovery area, much to my surprise and utter joy, my father looked great. He didn’t look like anything happened. Even his blood pressure was the lowest it has ever been.
It wasn’t long before my father was back to smiling, laughing, posing for the camera, and placing electrodes all over his face. My father even managed to pull off an ‘Uncle Rick’ photo challenge when he stood in this position.
We were cleared to leave the hospital by 7:06pm.
I can breathe again.
[[*Complete Set Of Photos On Flickr Are HERE*]]
I want to thank every single one of you for all of your thoughts, prayers and good vibes. I know that contributed to the enormous success of my father’s surgery. I don’t know what I would have done without all of your support. It’s times like this when I truly appreciate the blog family I have come to know and love over these last two years. Thank you.
