On my way back to the house from the hospital, I first stopped for gas then again at our neighbor’s place to make a request that he take over the driving once I started the return trip. Thankfully, Randy was home and willing so I tore up the hill toward the house.
Once in, the cellphone I needed so badly was nowhere to be seen. I’d been sure it was in a certain place, yet it wasn’t there. After minutes of running around and scaring the cats, I calmed enough to say a short prayer for help. Shortly after that, I spotted in a place I’d passed by before sitting in dark chair, belt holster and all.
I’d had problems getting my belt on properly in the earlier rush that morning so I thing it fell off while I was sorting that out. By the way, I found out later I still had the belt twisted. That somehow seems to have fit the theme of the day.
Arriving back at Gundersen, I checked the big HDTV they use for status reports. Dad was still in surgery. The round trip was in excess of ninety minutes, probably closer to two hours than not, so the length was meeting predictions. Later a nurse called my cellphone to report the surgery had gone well so far.
I relayed the info to my brother-in-law and recapped events while waiting. Far too much in life is made up of hurrying up to find yourself waiting after the rush. Since the bad cold had me woozy and the throat too sore to eat, I was running out of distractions that my mind could handle.
By the way, if stuck waiting there, check out the hardcover book on the history of Oktoberfest in La Crosse. Randy was very impressed with it and had a lot of flashbacks to the old Mary E. Sawyer Auditorium.
It was evening by the time the surgeon who stitched my father back up found us in the nearly empty area. Not only did I get a full report, he handed me a color glossy of the screen captures from the camera used in the laparoscopic surgery. Everything had gone as smoothly as the previous procedure had not and he was able to check the work he’d done before implanting the J-tube in the intestines.
Now Dad had a matching tube in the stomach for drainage, a G-tube. I’m just hoping the rest of the alphabet won’t be surgically implanted into him.
Then the waiting game began again to be allowed to see my father in the recovery room. Because he takes a long time to come out of anesthesia compared to most, I expected a long wait. A lot of time went by and I looked up at the monitor to see his number had completely disappeared. At this point, it was after hours and the help was gone from the desk.
I decided to head to the desk on the first floor and my inquiry produced a number to call. Returning to the second floor, I used the phone on the now vacant desk. Dad had already been taken to the ICU on third floor.
Again, I’d been lost by the system. Yes, I was still wearing that face mask, but come on!
A return trip to the room I’d waited in at the ICU reunited me with my parent who looked very worse for the wear, but was lucid. Realizing there wasn’t anything more I could do and that he needed to rest, I headed home.
All in all, things could have been far worse. As it was, I ended up slowly getting sicker over the next couple of days. Thankfully, my sister made the drive up the following day to stay with Dad.
Three days later and he’s still hospitalized waiting impatiently to be discharged. That’s going to be contingent on certain things improving more than they have, however he is doing much better than expected. I can only hope that this is the end to his hospital stays.
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