Today’s blog
Lynn Murphy Mark
Finally
Jan’s day of surgery has arrived. She is currently in the shower using what she calls the skin stripper soap – Hibiclens – for the second time in 12 hours. It is meant to give her the cleanest skin possible to lessen the chance of infection post-operatively. When the alarm went off this morning, though, her first words were, “I don’t want to go.” I don’t blame her. The next few days are bound to be painful and uncomfortable. And surgery itself is not a simple proposition. She may loose 1/3 of her right lung in the process.
Our minister will pray with Jan at 7 AM just before we arrive at St. Luke’s. She offered to come to the hospital, but we settled for a phone prayer on our way. She will remain a part of the prayer chain that is actively engaged in sending healing loving energy our way. If nothing else, having this surgery has shown Jan just how many people love her and are concerned for her welfare. People across the country are praying for the best outcome for her.
I wasn’t going to do a blog this morning until I thought about what a universal experience it is to be on either side of a big surgery. The patient is at risk any time anesthesia and surgery are combined. The support person gets to endure hours of not knowing what is happening in the operating room. Sometimes that is the hardest role of all, having given one’s loved one over to a person who is a relative stranger in charge of matters of life and death. It is a helpless, lonely feeling.
I have been in hospital waiting rooms a few times. I know the phenomenon of sharing a common burden with the other people seated in the room. Any time a hospital employee enters the room, everyone looks up and pays attention in case they are the intended person that will receive news of one kind or another. I have watched smiles of relief, and heard sighs of solace. I have also witnessed pure fear and suffering on faces of those for whom the news is not good. When that happens, there is a collective breath of understanding and support for the person that just got unwelcome news.
I have every reason to believe that Jan’s surgery will be successful at removing the unwanted tissue in her lung. As an old nurse, I can visualize the operating room full of machines and instruments and people buzzing around doing their assigned jobs. The surgeon enters and it gets a little quieter as the business at hand is imminent. Hopefully Jan will be peacefully sedated sooner rather than later. She was told the surgery will take between two to five hours. Where she goes after it’s over is dependent on how extensive the surgery will be.
Our friend Nancy insists on coming to the hospital to sit with me. I tried to dissuade her, but she is also a retired nurse and she knows about being the one who is waiting for a report. It will be nice to visit with her. We both have great and funny stories about our experiences as health care workers and I expect we will share a few of them. We are both coffee drinkers, so we’ll be sure to get a fair share of caffeine in our bodies. Hopefully there is a barista stand somewhere in the building.
So we’re nearly ready to hit the road. Jan has packed her soap, toothpaste, Kleenex , floss and probably a diet pepsi. Although, St. Luke’s is a pepsi establishment so she will get her wish whenever she is OK to drink. I look forward to the time when she sends me to find her favorite liquid refreshment. Then I’ll know that she is on the road to recovery!