It's been kind of a crazy week so far.
Sunday night, my son stayed out at the Farm with his grandparents so that I could take my husband to the hospital on Monday morning.
After years and years of football (teen years), motorcycle and auto accidents, martial arts, rock climbing and mad bicycling, my husband's left knee finally said "Uncle." There was absolutely no cartiledge left in there and the bones didn't sit squarely causing pain and an odd bowing to his leg that was getting worse. Time to become a bionic man and replace that knee with good old titanium!
They were calling for him soon after we arrived, so the prep work was expedited. I helped him wipe his body down with these antibacterial wipes and into a hospital gown. Gathered his clothes and shoes in a plastic bag and held his hand as he tried to meditate his way to calmness. The nurse gave him several pills, one of which being a major pain killer (Oxycontin) and after about five minutes, he began to relax a little. An IV was inserted for hydrating bags of water and she left, saying that the orderlies would be along shortly to transport him to surgery. It was a quiet 10 minutes of hand holding before they showed up.
At Darling Man's pre-op appointment, they put an identification band on his wrist. Just in the time before the surgery when I was with him, nurses and orderlies asked him his full name, date of birth, doctor and type of surgery three times. They are very careful these days to make sure they've got the right patient and the right surgery!
The orderlies picked up his wrist band and asked him the series of questions again to compare their information, then looked at me and asked who I was and what my relationship to the patient was. I answered with my name and said I was his wife. Then he added, "And my best friend."
That took my breath away. I don't think I've ever heard him say that. One of the beautiful things about our relationship is that we were friends first who became more. In the day to day of living, working and taking care of home and family, sometimes it's easy to lose track of that fact. We talk like crazy whenever we have time alone (which isn't often these days) and still enjoy each other's company. But it's easy to take that friendship for granted, or even forget that it's there - until circumstances bring it back to the forefront and lands it right in front of your face. And there was my husband, a little high on painkillers but still cognizant telling these two strangers that I was his best friend. I admit, I teared up a bit.
Then, there was the long wait. I took his clothes to the car and got something to eat and a cup of coffee on my way back to the waiting room.
There's more to tell, but not much time right now, so I shall continue this story later!