Heartfelt Bliss

Today's the day of John's second heart surgery. God, those words sound so incredibly scary. I know that this isn't open heart surgery and that they're going to go in through a artery in his leg, but it's still scary to think that they're going to mess with his heart. What if something goes wrong and the man I've lived with, loved, and had two children with for almost half my life is gone after tomorrow? There's so many things I haven't said, so many things I regret, so many experiences we have left to share. How to you fit all those things into a few hours time, just in case? He made sure to tell the kids he loved them yesterday, just in case, but our last few minutes would be spent at the hospital surrounded by strangers.

The day dawned bright, clear, and cold and the courtesy car that we'd arranged for the night before turned out to be a caddy with an opinionated driver who kept us entertained for the short drive to the hospital with his tales of rich clients and his opinions on government waste. We got to the hospital and headed up to the eight floor to the cardiac cath lab. They swept John away from me and I was left alone in the waiting room. At that time more than at any other time in my life, I regretted my tendancy towards privacy, my belief that I had to tough it out and I had to stand on my own two feet. As I sat all alone in that waiting room, I realized it would have been nice to have someone to share the burden with, someone to tell me that it was all going to be okay.

After they prepped John and got him ready for his surgery, they called me in so that I could wait with him. We waited, and waited, and waited. He slept and watched TV and I twiddled my thumbs and waited. I slipped out for a few minutes ostensibly to grab some food, but also to stop by the chapel and to say a fervent prayer that John would come through this in one piece. I also stopped to admire the beautiful views and to thank the heavens for places like Northwestern where they save lives.

The kids both texted me to check on their dad and I had to tell them both that I didn't know anything yet. Finally, the doctor's started trickling in and they told us that it wouldn't be much longer. Finally, it was time for him to go into surgery and after they wheeled him away, I pulled out my laptop and made a pretense of working, but in reality I was praying, surfing, and trying to take my mind off all the things that could go wrong.

I ended up stepping out to go to the bathroom (way too much soda) and when I returned, they were wheeling him back into his room. He was drowsy, but all in one piece and the doctors said that his surgery had gone really well and there had been no complications. He had to be flat on his back for the next hour or so, but then he could get up and walk around. Knowing he was all right gave me a huge sense of relief and I went out for a walk and to grab us some lunch so he had something to eat when he woke up. I headed not staying by his side, but I knew from personal experience that having someone sit and watch you sleep makes it hard to actually sleep.

The Markethouse restaurant was a few blocks away so I got a meatloaf for us to share and then two deserts because I couldn't choose between them. We got a wonderful chocolate desert and a pear tart. It was nice to walk in the crisp air and to feel the relief that John had come through this in one piece and that hopefully our lives would be back to normal soon. Walking back to the hospital, I felt a spring in my step and I felt home for the first time in a long time.

John was awake when I got back and he devoured the meatloaf and the deserts. It was almost 3 pm and we both agreed that I shoudl start heading back to the train so that I wouldn't get caught up in rush hour. I hugged him extra tight and headed out to grab the train, feeling incredibly thankful that my sweet hubby had been spared and vowing to try to be nicer. That's hard sometimes, but I'm going to at least try.