As I sat in my car, a combination of vindication and exhaustion infiltrated my body. Watching Rick be rolled off to surgery felt like a long awaited victory; but to celebrate now would be foolish, I warned myself.
I proceeded to text some of Rick’s friends and family members his status and assured them I’d keep them posted. It was 11:30, and his procedure would take 2-3 hours. Around 12:30, Allison, a mutual friend of ours, came by and kept me company. As we chatted for the next hour or so about the latest happenings in our lives, her warm smile and lighthearted nature eased my weary soul. That hour felt more like five minutes, but her support would certainly endure.
Shortly after Allison left to pick her daughter up from school, Rick’s surgeon called to inform me that everything went well and I could visit him in the recovery room in about an hour. After sharing the good news with everyone, I grabbed lunch- inhaling a burger and washing it down with an iced tea. At precisely 3pm, I strutted up to the front desk, where I was informed that Rick wasn’t in his room yet, and that they’d come get me once he had arrived. As the minutes ticked by, I had an uneasy feeling that I couldn’t explain. Half an hour later a nurse slowly escorted me to his room, cautioning me that Rick had experienced heart rate and pain issues.
I had zero chance to process this information because the second I laid eyes on Rick, I could tell he wasn’t a happy camper. With a deep scowl covering his face, he hissed that he was both in pain and unable to pee. I immediately sought assistance from a nurse, which upset him all the more. “I told you I don’t need a nurse!” he said aggressively. “Well I think you do! And honestly, this isn’t just about you!” I stammered. “Actually, it is about me,” he replied tersely. Our medical adventure was just beginning, and needless to say, we were not getting off to a good start! Luckily for both of us, Rick’s overnight nurse, Mary, was a Godsend! She was half Florence Nightingale, half angel, and her calming presence seemed to diffuse all the tension between Rick and myself. Unfortunately for Rick, he would need a catheter immediately (the first of two during his stay). Once he endured that, his entire demeanor changed. His blood pressure went down to healthy levels, and he even ate some dinner. Any complaints of discomfort subsided, and all was right with our world.
I spent that night with Rick in what was referred to as a recovery suite- he would be released the following morning. Every one to two hours Mary floated in and out of the room, dispensing medications and checking vitals, as she hummed along. She dimmed the lights so we could get some much needed rest, a gesture we both appreciated. After she left, however, one of the sconces above Rick’s bed began to flicker on and off like a strobe light. I was sleeping in a chair turned trundle bed, facing the party on the wall. It was like the Universe’s way of telling me that my initiation into nursing school was not to be taken lightly, and lack of sleep was merely a harbinger of things to come.
Sadly, the next morning, Mary’s shift came to an end, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so disheartened to say goodbye to someone who was almost a complete stranger. After she left, Karen, Rick’s other nurse, gave me a visual tutorial on how to change Rick’s incision dressings, while I took a video for good measure. Just prior to that, Brad, Rick’s brother, showed up to both check on him and to ensure Rick made it into his house alright.
As we made our way to our respective vehicles, I naively gave them a thumb’s up, as I checked my phone and took my sweet time following in my own car. True to form, I got lost on the way back, though it didn’t help that Google maps was navigating me in the wrong direction! When I eventually showed up to Rick’s place, I joked that I could get lost in my own back yard- except of course, I wasn’t joking. Rick will be in good hands, I told myself, as part of me I wondered what the hell I’d just gotten myself into…