|Hospital dinner date with a side of morphine.|
I know it's the most obvious thing to ever say, but hospitals make me feel sad and anxious. Seriously you guys, they are intense places! Alex had his third surgery on his leg (you know, the one that got run over by a car?) today. They took out the plate and screws that once held his now healed bones together. Once those bones were healed, they were pretty sure that they were causing him the pain that would not go away this entire year. So out they came. And although our doctor assured us that Alex would "walk out of the hospital on the same day," while we were in the holding room right before surgery this afternoon, he informed us that he'd have to stay overnight for pain management (AKA he was going to need morphine.) So, I'm writing this from home while Alex is hopefully sleeping in a hospital room on first avenue. Let's just say it's been a long day.
But you know what really made me sad? When we were finally in his room, nine hours after arriving at the hospital, his roommate was all alone. And I know that Alex is alone now, and that sometimes loved ones just have to go home. But it was only 7:00 and I couldn't help but wonder if the man in the bed next to Alex didn't have someone to sit by him while he watched the baseball game and occasionally clicked his morphine drip button. I felt guilty for not asking him if he wanted something from the store when I went out to get Alex food from across the street. Hospitals just make me think about things like that. They make me think about people who are alone in the world and sick.
I also get anxious when Alex is on morphine. I know the drug is making him feel better and that everyone gets a little loopy when on it, but I'm not used to Alex not acting like himself. He rarely drinks so I never really see him in an altered state, and I don't like it. It's hard to explain. I know the drug is helping him, but it just reminds me more that he is in a hospital and in pain, when I just want things to be back to normal so very badly.
I know now, a year later, that my idea of what is normal changes almost daily. I remember when I was thankful that Alex could get up to pee in the bathroom rather than in one of those urine containers next to the side of the bed- that was normal. And I know that this hopefully final surgery might lead to the closest we've been to normal since the accident, but we're not quite there yet.
The plan is that Alex will get a boot tomorrow and come home. He should have the boot anywhere between two weeks and a month- depending how long it takes for his tissue to heal, and then- who knows? I'm trying not to think about it too much. There is a very big chance that the pain he's been feeling will still be there, or that there will be new pain, who knows? But it's 10:30 at night, and today's almost over. I know that all I can do is see what exactly tomorrow will bring, tomorrow. So I guess I better try and get some sleep.
Good night everyone. Thanks for reading :)
Oh and by the way, this is what they took out:
|Anyone else feel like they've used this to put together a piece of Ikea furniture before?|