As I sit in George's hospital room on the 8th floor at The Methodist Hospital for the second time in six months, the sense of deja vu is pretty surreal...talk about been here done that...only I am bald this time, with a little less gas in my tank. This time is a little different, not so much drama, pain or what comes next. No co-pay or out of pocket expenses either, did that on the first visit. No feelings of panic or needing to stay overnight, just in case the nurses can't get there fast enough. Yeah, we were first in line for what the medical profession calls a "take-down" like taking down the Christmas tree, or WWF smack down (we call it a plumbing reconnect---at least with our definition you have an idea of what is being done, with doctors, no such luck). We had to be here for 5:15 AM (read: get up at 3:30 AM, leave house at 4:15...ugh), but still got to wait until after 8:30 to get started on a 4 hour surgery - no explanation, just the usual hurry up and wait. George got to his room around 5:00. Not until Ed did a bed check count and tell the nurses station that were 7 open beds did the computer catch up---AHHHHH, progress, just ask Facebook what happens when computers can't keep up. Back to George---but for the half a dozen one inch scars, a 7" here to there and a 3" on the left side, he is as good as new---not going to be a greased ab underwear model, but could do public service advertising for what happens in a knife fight...he will be the one without tats. With "take down" you get to stay in the hospital to see if the pipes work, which take about 5-6 days, but you are just sitting around, doing nothing, waiting for the next meal. Not even the surgeon comes by, it is the lowly resident making rounds before 6:00 am that gets the call. I could write a book on what was on the menu card for George, and what should not be consumed by a post "take down" patients---cheeseburgers and turnip greens should not have been on his list, but were. He even knew enough to stay away from those. Obviously with 7 empty bed, they wanted to make sure they could keep them filled. Good Grief. While the replumb will take some time to heal, we all hope that this will be the beginning of a new chapter in George's life...a new normal. George is probably one of the bravest people I know---his normal and what each of us consider normal are not even in the same book, much less the same page. He tries everyday to make lemonade out the the lemons he has been given, some days it is really hard--if not impossible. He treats each day with a smile, complains little, and is probably one of the most kindest and gentlest souls in the world. George is my hero, always has been, and always will be.
On another totally selfish almost normal front, we had the most normal weekend last week (funny how long ago that seems after a week of hospital time) we have had in almost six months. Friends of ours have purchased a house down on the Bay, near Kemah. For about ten years prior to Hurricane Ike, Ed and I along with this same couple would steal several weekends a year to a borrowed bay cottage. These weekends were all about the food, fishin' and friendship...we would sit on the dock of the bay, solving the problems of the world, cooking, playing cards, catching crab and assorted fish, and I ain't gonna lie---have more than the recommended amount of alcoholic beverages--that was more of a guy thing, since us girls were all about world peace and fishin'. We would eat, sleep, fish and laugh ---get sweaty and smelly, then come home on Sunday, a little tanner, a lot more mellow, and with lots higher sodium and cholesterol counts. I know we live on the Lake now, but it is just not the same. When it your home, there is always something else that needs to be done, laundry, cleans the bird poop off the dock, yard work, housework, paperwork, and then there is the aquatic life---how can you compare catfish, bass and crappie with crabs, trout, redfish, sea snakes, sting rays---and there is always great boat traffic on the bay. Just sayin' This time, it was a day trip, down at 9 back at 9...world peace, fishin', crabs and liquid refreshments for the boys were all on the menu. Yeah, I drank water, yet again. Twelve hours of almost normal---it was pure heaven. It was a taste of what we will return to in 90 days....2 more chemo poisonings, 2 more flamingos, 6 weeks of daily radiation, then, boom---normal. Thanks Deb and DK reminding us what normal looked like.
"Accept --- then act. Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it...." Eckhart Tolle
Hoping you, George, and Ed soon cross the finish line on your respective side paths and hit new "normal" roads very soon. Your fishing day made me smile...you have good friends for sure! <3 Robin A!
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