Surgery day: Neil's side of the story.

At first, the morning seemed just like any other. Marie did not seem at all nervous or uneasy about what was about to happen.  She just worked through her morning routine checklist, same as always.

Get up. (Check)

Shower. (Check)

Tell Neil to get up. (Check)

Lay out the kids clothes. (Check)

Tell Neil to hurry because we have to leave in x amount of minutes. (Check)

Get dressed. (Check)

Make sure Neil is still moving. (Check)

Go warm up the car. (Check)

Go back in the house and get Neil. (Check)

Normal day.

We arrived at the Huntsman Hospital only a couple of minutes late.  I always figure in “doctor making you wait time,” so it’s kind of pointless to be early. Besides, really, can they start without her? The valet took the vehicle and swiftly drove away. I love valet parking. For a brief moment I can pretend that I am somebody. 

We made our way to the third floor and the nurse escorted us to a large, open room with smaller, curtained off areas.  We are guided to the corner in front of these very large windows for Marie to change in front of.  Are you kidding me?  Do they charge a peep fee on the other side?  The curtain did not even pull all the way closed and two people were sitting just across the way.  This was all very odd to me but Marie just took it in stride.  She changed and listened to all the instructions well.  I only heard bits and pieces because I was still recovering from an ear infection and was dealing with a decent amount of hearing loss.  I was nervous was going to miss something.

The first person from the medical team was Dr. Neumayer’s assistant Victoria. She came in our small curtained area and explained everything very well.  Then she marked the areas on Marie that they would be doing the procedures on.  Again, as I looked at Marie I saw she was handling it all very well. I am somebody who always worries about the “what ifs,” so I did my best to keep everything inside and maintain a positive front as much as possible.

After talking with Victoria, Marie went to the restroom, but never returned.  I waited and waited and waited.  I considered grabbing a nurse and asking them to check on her because she had been gone now for about twenty minutes or more.  I knew she had to pee in a cup, but was afraid she was freaking out. I wanted a nurse to go find her and tell her everything would be fine. Apparently no one bothered to tell me that they had intercepted her on her way back from the bathroom to take her down to have her wire put in for the surgery.  What a relief to discover she was not passed out on the bathroom floor and that I didn’t actually end up looking like an idiot because I sent nurses off looking for her.

From the curtained area we made our way to a private room with a television.  They seem to have nurses for everything. A new nurse came in and had Marie complete the “what if” paperwork. You know, do you have a living will? What do we do with remains? etc. etc. Okay maybe it wasn’t that drastic, but it was close. Then this nurse put in the IV. After she was done, the anesthesiologist also came in and discussed the “what ifs.” I am thinking this room should now be called the “enter if you dare room.”  Like the old movies.  Dun, dun daahhhhh.

After the anesthesiologist was done, they wheeled her out and that was the last I saw of her until it was all over.  I now was left to my own devices.  They left me standing there to find my way out to the waiting room.  Once in the waiting room, I checked in at the desk. They gave me a card that coincided with a LCD panel where I could watch Marie’s progress as she went from pre-op, to surgery, post-op and so on.  It really is a nice system and somehow makes you feel a little comforted.

I went down to the pharmacy to get her prescription filled. While I was there, my phone made the loud ringing sound it makes when I’ve missed a call.  It must have been ringing the whole time I was standing there. I am sure people were looking at me and thinking, “Are you going to answer it?”  I asked the pharmacist if the number was from the hospital and she said yes.  Of course, my first thought was that they had found something and I now had to make a split decision on what to do.  What would Marie want me to do? Did we talk about it? Man, what if she brought it up in one of those conversations that she went on and on and I was zoned out.  What if I made the wrong decision? I could not live with that.  I really need to listen better. I better get up stairs.

My hands were clammy as I approached the front desk.  I told them that somebody called me, but I missed the call.  I am sure they were thinking, “What a loser. What was so important that he could not take a call about his wife in surgery?” Thankfully they didn’t say that out loud, they just said that it had probably been the operating room and they would call back to surgery to get the message for me. Great. (Yes, please, could you interrupt my wife’s surgery because I could not hear my cell phone ring?)  I am an idiot.  The receptionist handed me the phone and said the nurse wanted to talk to me. A cute, perky voice is on the other side. “Mr. Erickson?” It takes me a moment to register who “Mr. Erickson” is. It’s me, not some old guy I am unfamiliar with. I respond slowly, “y e s.”  She cheerfully gives me the news that the test on the lymph nodes was negative and they were now proceeding with the surgery and it should be about an hour and half. I am only mildly relieved because we still have the rest of the surgery to go.  I need drugs. 

I decided to go up to the “Point.” Its a restaurant on the sixth floor of the hospital. I needed refreshment and a cookie. I brought a movie to watch to pass time because I do not wait well, especially by myself.  Choosing a soda was no problem. Pepsi or Coke. But when it came to a cookie, I crumbled.  Do I want a snickerdoodle? Calming cinnamon and sugar, melt-in-your-mouth? Or maybe an M&M chocolate chip cookie? Fun with a smile? Or, a frosted green sugar cookie? It just exudes spring, happiness and sunshine and makes you want to giggle when you eat it? And finally, the lemon cookie. Bits of lemon drops crushed inside with a tart icing drizzled on top that gives you an instant sugar rush and a hug from your grandma with each bite.  How do I decide? I can’t decide. My mind is not here. Give me all four. If the over the counter drugs won’t do it, the sugar will.

A few minutes later and I’m back in the waiting room, checking out the board. There is a line that runs down the middle of the screen to mark the patients’ progress. I do not think Marie has moved.  I wander about the waiting area. I think I was making a few of the people nervous. A few of them tried to speak to me, but of course I could not hear them.  Looking back, I think they must have assumed that I was anxiously pacing back and forth waiting for the surgery to be over and just wanted to help in some way, but all I was really doing was looking for was a plug, an electrical plug. I needed to plug in my computer, watch a movie, and get my mind off things.  I finally found one, but it was buried in the carpet. I needed that movie, so I got down on all fours and pried off the cover. We have contact.  I sat down and watched the movie. Then the monitor. Then the movie. Then the monitor. Then the movie. The monitor was still saying she was in surgery when I looked up and saw Dr. Neumeyer standing in front of me. I was excited to see her. I quickly closed my computer, and she sat down beside me with a handful of grapes.

She told me everything went well.  She mentioned the lymph nodes again and said that when she removed the breast tissue that it just looked like normal breast tissue. I tried to think of questions to ask but was just more relieved than anything. In the back of my mind, I just kept thinking that everyone so far in my life that has been diagnosed with cancer has died. There has been a number of family and friends that I have had to say goodbye to, but Marie will be the first to live. I will be able to grow old and raise our children with her.  For this one moment I believe the Lord really was listening to my one prayer. 

I asked about recovery and how long it would take but I’m not sure I was really listening to the answer.  Dr. Neumeyer left and sat silently waiting until I could go back to recovery to see Marie. Again my phone beeped loudly, I missed the call.  I walked up to the desk, looked at the receptionist and said, “I really cannot hear my phone.”  She was sweet and said, “Would you like them to call me so that I can come get you?”  I gratefully accepted and she dialed the nurse. They told me Marie was in recovery, but was having a hard time waking up. It would be another 45 minutes and then they would move her back to the to the private room we started in and I would be able to come back.

I told the receptionist that I was going to go to the pharmacy to pick up Marie’s medication since it would be awhile. When I got there the pharmacist handed me Marie’s medication but told me not to give it to her as it was prescribed. She said, “If you give it to her in these doses, it will blow her liver out. We would not want that to happen.” Apparently the prescription was written wrong. She tried to contact the doctor to correct but could not get a hold of her.

When I got back to the waiting room, I was just about to sit down when I saw the receptionist jumping up and down and pointing to me and then the doors. I do not think she would have done well in charades, but I got the message. She was sweet all the same. I went back to find Marie. She was back in the “enter if you dare” room. She was hooked up to an oxygen monitor.  Meagan, my niece, called to check at the same time the nurse walked in. I quickly told her that the nurse was there so I had to go. I am sure I sounded more like, “Get off the damn phone, the nurse is here,” but that was not my intention. 

The nurse explained to me how the oxygen monitor worked and that it had to stay above 90.  When it dropped I had to tell Marie to take deep breaths or even cough.  Marie just wanted to sleep and told the nurse that but the nurse wasn’t buying it.  She wanted her out of there.  I tried to ask questions that I thought Marie would ask. I asked about her questionable prescription. She thought this was concerning.  Marie is so good at asking questions and researching things.  When I had surgery she could tell the doctors and nurses a thing or two. I think some of them had to go back to their stations and look stuff up just to come back and answer her questions.

Well I tried to keep my head. “Marie you need to take some breaths.”  Her response: “I AM BREATHING.”

“Marie just a couple more.”

“WHAT, YOU WANT ME TO GASP FOR BREATH?”

“Marie you are almost there.”

“THAT THING IS NOT WORKING!”

“Okay, I think you are close enough.”

I decided to call Meagan back and just quickly update her. 

“Hi, Meagan, yeah, she is doing okay just a little ornery.”

“I AM NOT ORNERY!”

”Thanks, Meagan. I’ll talk to you later.”

Marie started waking up a little now and was asking questions. The same questions again and again. “How many lymph nodes did they take?” Crap. That is a good question. I forgot to ask that question. “Umm, I do not know.” A few minutes later, “How many lymph nodes did they take?” I answer with same lame response. Just to make me feel worse she asks two more times. I can not remember the other two questions she kept asking over and over. I think it is time to go home.

I wheel her to the front door and out to valet service. Just as I am about to hand the valet my ticket, this elderly women darts by me, holding out hers.  Marie is sitting in a chair almost comatose, slumped over with her coat over her.  Yes, some privileges come with being elderly, but I think she was stretching it a bit. Since Marie was cold, I wheeled her around and back into the building with the assistance of another woman, who was much more pleasant than the first. Maybe she saw what happened and was trying to make up for the first woman. I walked back outside to wait for the next one.  

We got in the car and started pulling out when Marie yells, “YOUR PHONE IS RINGING!” I really could not hear my phone ring. It was driving me crazy. It is the nurse. She was still concerned about the medication and didn’t want to send us home with the wrong label. She asked me to meet her at the pharmacy so that she could fix it.  So I left Marie in the car, in the hospital round about, only semi-conscious as ran up to pharmacy.  There was a different pharmacist so I quickly tried to explain the situation. Her response was, “We cannot take these back.”  I said, “I am not trying to give them back. They just need a new label.” She responded, “But we cannot take back medication once it is dispensed.”  I must not explain myself very well.  At that moment the nurse arrives and clears things up. Then the doctor called and after all that, just said, “Just send him home with the bottle as long as they understand not to take it the way it is written.”  Fine. My wife is comatose in the car. I need to get her home.

On the way home Marie did pretty good, we only pulled over twice because she thought she was going to be sick. The first time I pulled over was quick because she said, “Neil, pull over right now, I am going to be sick.” Once I was at a stop she said, “Why did you stop here? You’re in the middle of the road. You’re going to get hit. You better move, a bus is coming.”  I can’t win. I pull back onto the road and try again a few blocks later.  The second time I guess I was appropriately stopped.

When we got home she made it safely to her bed and slept most of the day. I woke her up to make sure she ate something, but she went right back to sleep. I am so relieved she is doing so well and seems to be handling the pain without any problem.

I would be amiss if I did not thank all our friends and family who have done so much for us.  You brought in food, words of encouragement, love and support. In case we have not already said it, and even if we have, thank you so much. For everything.   Now on to the next adventure…