So tired. It's been quite the week, but I am grateful beyond words. Hubster went in for gallbladder surgery on Thursday. It was only supposed to have been a 45 minute surgery, but we'll get back to that in a sec.
This was Hubster's first surgery ever. And he was a bit nervous. He wasn't nervous about the pain. He wasn't nervous about how it would turn out. But he's a bit on the claustrophobic side after a near-drowning incident years ago, and the thought of being intubated was concerning him. He was afraid he'd wake up with the breathing tube down his throat and become violent, if he panicked. He didn't want to hurt anyone.
Thankfully, the anesthesiologist assured him that he'd make sure Hubster was completely asleep before placing the tube and still asleep when he removed it. By the time he was headed back, Hubster was feeling good about the surgery and just ready to get it done. I felt much better about all of it myself and prepared myself to wait.
While The nurse was escorting me back to the waiting room, I confirmed that the surgery should last 45 minutes or so. She said it was, but if I wanted to get anything to eat or drink at the cafeteria, I should go now and probably be back in 20 to 25 minutes, so I didn't miss the doctor coming out to talk to me. So I ran to the bathroom and proceeded through the maze to the cafeteria in the hospital next door.
Of course, the cafeteria was closed, so I got a couple bucks out of my purse and grabbed a breakfast bar and some peanuts out of the vending machine. They were the only thing that had any potential nutritional value in them, but I needed something. I called his folks to let them know he'd gone in and headed back, stopping at a little book sale they were having at the hospital. I found a couple things for the girls, called Mom to let her know he'd gone in and went back to the waiting room.
A good 45 minutes had gone by while sitting there, and I still hadn't heard from the surgeon, so I asked the receptionist, if she could see, if I'd missed talking to the doctor. I figured I'd been gone for at least 25 minutes, so I thought I'd just missed the doc. The receptionist came back and said that they'd gotten started late, (at 11:00), and that the surgeon said he'd be done in the next 15 minutes. I knew they hadn't started at 11:00, though, because I'd called his folks at 10:47, and that was after the restroom break, the long trek to the cafeteria, and playing with the vending machine. Clearly something wasn't right.
I sat there silently praying that he'd be alright and playing with my phone. A few minutes later, the surgeon made an appearance. He said that Hubster was doing well. He'd just talked to him, even, but his gallbladder was, and he thought for a moment to come up with the least offensive way to put it, "rotten. Just plain rotten", as he shook his head at the memory. He didn't go into much detail other than that. Told me I could see Hubster in an hour or 2, so if I needed to go anywhere, now would be the time. So I called his parents and Mom with an update and hung out until they came and got me. It's funny. That wait didn't seem nearly as long as the wait for the surgery was, yet it was half again as long. Funny how time works that way.
Thankfully, Hubster looked great when I saw him. He was very relieved the surgery was over and especially relieved he didn't have to have the big surgery instead of the laparoscopic surgery he ended up with. Apparently, his gallbladder was "very diseased", and the surgeon was struggling to get it all out. He'd actually had the nurse call the hospital to tell them to expect Hubster to be admitted. That he was going to have to open him all the way up. But thankfully, right after he'd had the nurse make the call, he was able to finagle the rest of the gallbladder loose.
The doc said that as diseased as his gallbladder was, Hubster had been having problems with it for years and just didn't realize it. Sounds like things could have gone badly for him, if he hadn't gotten it out when he did. I'm anxious for him to feel better. To feel what life without gut aches and pain feels like.
For life without his rolling stones.
Compulsive hoarding is a mental disorder that is just beginning to be understood. As a hoarder, I have acquired things over the years with a specific purpose in mind at the time of the acquisition, used some of those items for their intended purposes, forgotten the goal for different objects, but now that I find that they have outlived their purpose in my life I am struggling to rid myself of those same things.
You can read the start of my journey here.