The Redneck checked in for surgery at 7:30am this morning and his surgery happened at 9:30am. At 11:30am, I started to get the feeling things didn’t go according to plan.
Every patient at Clovis Community hospital gets a number. Five numbers. Like a flight number at an airport. They are up on a TV screen with words like “In OR” “Arrived” and so on. It seemed like the Redneck’s number was “IN OR” forever. And ever.
Well, the doctor came out at noon. The Redneck didn’t get the laproscopical surgery he’d hoped, but instead, he had abdominal surgery. Then, his oxygen saturation level dropped to 70% (normal is 90-100). So, the anesthesiologist is keeping him intubated for another hour (until 1pm). As I write this, I’m just waiting. If he doesn’t breathe on his own, they’ll keep him on a machine tonight and take him off tomorrow.
Yeah, not scary at all.
But I knew this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.
Not crying. That’s my goal.
Anyway, I have kept myself distracted by writing, by calling my best friend, by calling Melissa. It’s helped immensely.
Thinking is dangerous.
Hell, I’m a writer. Angsty-ending-in-a-funeral stories are something I can do. But my life is NOT a Nicolas Sparks book. I’m going to have a happy ending damn it.
I hope I do.
I’m probably stressing over nothing. It’s just my way. I’ll try and update soon.
UPDATE: About 2:45pm, I saw them wheel him by and he’s breathing on his own. Thank God. Thank you all for your good thoughts and prayers. I know it made the difference.