We left that Friday morning about 2:30 a.m. and arrived at the W.W.Hastings Hospital in Tahlequah just before six. First stop: the Lab. Then to sign in at the OR. As we sat to wait for my turn, a nurse came to take me to my hospital room, admit me, and prep me for surgery. All of that took a little time, but before I knew it, the surgery nurse appeared with a rolling chair to whisk me to the OR Staging area.
I watched as out-patients were admitted and given instructions. I saw more nurses and the anesthesiologist and more nurses and a doctor or two come through. Each time my insides lurched at the thought it was my turn. Then I relaxed back into the chair as they once again passed me by. Finally, one stopped and asked if I felt I could walk to the actual operating room or did I need a ride? I felt confident and slid to my feet and clutched at my dignity. An open hospital gown flapping in the breeze requires a certain self-control to retain any semblance of modesty, let alone dignity.
I finally maneuvered onto the table and immediately began to tremble. The room was FREEZING! It had enough lights and people for a small city and each one knew their job. They poked and prodded and hooked me up to monitors and hoses. They asked me -- it seemed for the 10th time! -- my name and why I was there.
The mask descended and I heard a voice say, "Just breathe deeply." The next words I recognized kept repeating, "Are you awake?" I think I answered and eventually my eyes quit rolling all over their sockets and I began to focus. The nurses wasted no time on pleasantries, but helped me to another wheeled chair and rolled me back to my room. We passed my dear husband in the hall and he fell in behind us.
Our procession arrived back at my room and I was deposited in my new home. Tubes were adjusted, buttons pushed and covers pulled up. I smiled and tried to say thank you. Then I promptly fell asleep. Sleep, alas, is hard to maintain in a hospital. Every two hours, or perhaps more often, someone came in to poke me or in some way collect their required information.
Each nurse or aide introduced themselves and announced why they had come, collected their info, thanked me and left. Each one said I should try to rest. I smiled, too tired to laugh.
The next day, the doctor came by at last and said I could go home. I was ready!! Only wait -- the pharmacy needed to send my "meds" and I definitely wanted them to go home with me. Papers signed, clothes on and pain handling medications in hand, we finally rolled out the door and into the waiting car.
The drive home was uneventful; a blessing for sure. At home, I finally slept only to wake on that same two hour schedule.
Day by day, even hour by hour, I feel stronger, less exhausted, and less sore. I give thanks for all those who gave in service to me. They meant to be kind and only poked as needed. They offer themselves to the care of the sick and God uses each one to heal the ill and make healthy the infirm. I could never do what they do. Thank God they do what they do.
