Wow. I cannot thank y’all enough for all the prayers I know were lifted up for P and our family. There is something incredible about knowing so many people are praying for you. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

We got home right about 3:00 this afternoon (see, I told you we’ve done this before, I totally called that time on the previous post). In all fairness, we would have been home around 2:35, but P and I made a regrettable navigational decision on the way home that caused us to get stuck in traffic. I tend to suffer with road rage in the best of circumstances, but when you add in a fresh post-op husband in white tights sitting next to you, in a fair amount of discomfort, it’s enough to cause your brain to start to leak out of your ears.

P had to be at the hospital by 5:30 this morning. Normally, this wouldn’t have been a problem because Caroline could have spent the night with Mimi and Bops and I could have driven P to the hospital. Actually, he would have been the one to drive because, let’s be honest, I would have still been half asleep. However, this surgery conveniently coincided with Mimi and Bops leaving on vacation and Gulley already being on vacation (Shout out to AJ who watched Caroline for me all day and got suckered into taking her to ride the train, swing at the park and swim all in one day. You are our hero.) so, anyway, P took a cab to the hospital and I met him there after Caroline woke up around 7:00 a.m.

That’s what happens when you’re on your third back surgery in four years, it’s like having your 4th baby, you’re lucky if anyone even shows up.

In fact, P told me that I could just stay home and he’d take a cab to the hospital and then take a cab home when the surgery was over. I told him there was no way I was going to let him do that. Those cab rides aren’t cheap and we have a perfectly good city bus system.

I arrived at the hospital around 7:30 or so and then proceeded to wander the vast medical maze for the next 20 minutes searching for P. Helpful hospital employees directed me to the 5th floor, and then the 9th floor, and then sub-level basement in the North Tower. Finally, I spied him lying in the pre-op room and recognized him in spite of the sweet hairnet on his head.

I sat there with him as various medical personnel came in to poke and prod. And as these situations basically afford no privacy, was able to hear other patients discussing their operation fears with their physicians. I overheard one lady telling her doctor she wanted to make him aware that she did not want to feel any pain. It seemed a little like stating the obvious, but I made a mental note to use that same line if I ever find myself in the pre-op situation. “Hey Doc, just so you know, I’m not like most people. Call me odd, but I don’t enjoy pain.”

Finally, they wheeled P off and sent me to the surgical waiting room. I asked how long the surgery would take and they said about an hour, so I headed over to the food court because my stomach was in knots and needed the comfort that only an egg, bean and cheese breakfast taco could bring. Oh, and a Grande Latte from Starbucks.

I love the hospital food court because I completely understand why friends and loved ones wouldn’t want to eat in the hospital cafeteria, however, going to grab egg rolls with a side of fried rice at Zing Tao’s China Hut while Grandma is in surgery seems a little irreverent. Of course, those of us who eat bean and cheese tacos in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.

I finished my taco and then headed to the surgical waiting room. To say that I was the youngest person in there is the understatement of the century. Apparently, the neurosurgery day ward usually caters to a much older crowd, as evidenced by “The Price is Right” being shown on every available television while various conversations were held about how handsome Bob Barker was when he was a young man. How old do you have to be to have any recollection of Bob Barker ever being young?

I also was able to witness a catfight between two of the elderly Bluebird volunteers which, honestly, was worth the price of our insurance deductible. It seems that Myrtle, who wasn’t a day under 97, hadn’t been doing the job of surgery waiting room hostess well enough to meet the standards of Gloria, who was a spring chicken at around 78. Gloria was quick to tell Myrtle that the only way to do things was the way Gloria wanted them done.

Honestly, I didn’t see much difference between the hostessing methods of Myrtle versus Gloria, other than a little salesmanship. Gloria pushed the waiting room coffee like a Juan Valdez drug lord. Anyone who came within a 2 mile radius of the waiting room was offered the “best cup of coffee you’ll ever have! Ever! The best coffee ever!”

Call me a skeptic, but I seriously doubted this claim. In my vast java experience, I have usually found that free coffee that has been percolating for hours isn’t usually the best use of my taste buds.

I did, however, take the bag of Oreos that Gloria offered because I needed something to settle my stomach after that breakfast taco.

When P’s doctor came in to let me know he was out of surgery and doing well, Gloria was quick to come check on me. She was thrilled to tell me that her sources confirmed that my husband, “Mr. P the 8th” was doing well. Now, P is Mr. P III but I had no idea where the VIIIth was coming from. Gloria said it with a certain reverence in her tone, as well she should for a lineage that long and proud.

Then, I got a glimpse of her clipboard and noticed that what she was seeing was P’s name followed by III, which happened to be right next to his doctor’s name, which starts with V. So what she actually was calling VIII, was, in fact, IIIV. I’m not much on Roman numerals, but I feel fairly certain this is not the sign of any number that the Romans came up with back in ye olde Roman times.

And on one last note, P wanted me to write a little note specifically from him letting y’all know how honored he feels to know so many prayers were said on his behalf today. Y’all have blessed our family and we are so thankful.

Sincerely,

P IIIV