Monday, November 12, 2007

This is What I Get for Comparing Doctors to Plumbers

I had just finished posting the previous bulletin, sitting here listening to the Petshop Boys and feeling all floaty and Valyummified (note to Wesley: little Valiums are yellow, big boys are blue) when the hospital called. R Man had woken up three hours early and was asking for me. The jolly nurse put him on the phone (didn't you just have open heart surgery, I wanted to ask. I've taken longer to recuperate from pedicures.) They had recently taken the breathing tube out of his throat (!) and his voice was croakier than Tallulah Bankhead, but he still asked for me to come over, that he wanted to see me.

I didn't mention the Valium, because, you know, what the hell? I threw on a sweater (black cashmere, even in an emergency, you need to look nice.) and hit the road. Thank god I had a mis-spent youth that involved plenty of driving under the influence so I was able to wheel on over to Pacific Heights in record time without struggling. I even found a legal parking spot.

Once I was there, I was so glad I went. The poor thing is all tore up, battered, with wires and tubes and things sprouting from him like a Borg with a hardon. The Intensive Care Unit is just like on TV and his nurse Diane defines sweetness. Speaking of being sweet, R Man said he just wanted me there so he could tell me he loved me. I was stunned. Sometimes, often, he is so much more than I deserve.

Bizarrely, he felt chatty, wanted to tell me all about the operation, the cute anesthesiologist, what an angel Diane had been, wanted to hear all about how I had spent the afternoon, lalalalala. He finally admitted his chest hurt a lot, which Diane said was probably the tubes pressing in, so she shot him up with something big and pretty soon he started to drift back off. He sent me on home and said he'd see me in the morning. The whole thing was very domestic, except for the monitors beeping and the big old tube sticking up out of his neck.

I have to say how relieved it made me to see him, even in such an extreme situation. I really feel much more confident that things are going to be ok.

And especial big thanks to everyone who responded so promptly to these earlier posts. Your support and good wishes have come to be very important to me. They help a lot.

8 comments:

  1. That is so sweet and very touching. I think the best years of your partnership are yet to come!

    ReplyDelete
  2. ...A Borg with a hardon.

    You need to teach me that laughing in the face of adversity trick you're so good at. I'm touched by your devotion to each other. I have good things to hope for someday.

    ReplyDelete
  3. My best wishes for the two of you.

    ReplyDelete
  4. ditto wesley re laughing in the face of adversity. What a gift you have for it. And I'm so glad he's awake and perky(ish). All good signs.

    r.man sounds very sweet. My husband, the gentlest of men, was a complete bitch when he woke up from his flaying. It was near midnight and he demanded that I call the hospital building manager because his A.C. wasn't working properly. I had to go out into the hall to cry. Needless to say, I'll never let him forget it. There's always a silver lining!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Schlepping to and from the hospital is sometimes the best way to show someone that you love them and wish them well on the road to recovery. I for one like to avoid it and then months later send a "Hope You Got Well" card. Just Kidding, really I'm keeping you gents in my prayers. Thank God for impaired and intoxicated driving lessons, it just make things so much easier...

    ReplyDelete
  6. too sweet! my tooth hurts!

    good luck and best wishes for you and r-man while you take the first steps on his road to recovery. already it sounds like you and he are off to a good start.

    *hugs- very soft, gentle ones*

    ReplyDelete
  7. I'm so glad to hear that it went well! You'll both continue to be in my thoughts and prayers!

    ReplyDelete

In Which Credit Is Taken

Financial advice from mrpeene e So every year or two, some evil little troll manages to get their grubby paws on my credit card number.  The...