In the hospital again…wait…
Doctor: I’m discharging her.
Me: Are you sure?
The past year has been a series of horrifying news with a side dish of, “if you act now, here’s some bonus horror.”
- We go in for stomach pains, find out she has a blood clot and a secondary infection, and she stays in the hospital for 8 days.
- We go in for a blood transfusion, find out she has pneumonia and dangerously low white blood cells, stay for 10 days. Blood issue is never resolved.
- We go in for a scalp cut, get a medication which causes her to get a seizure a minute, and she stays in the hospital, essentially for all but five days in May.
So when our doc told us that we had to go in for a fifth surgery, it was rough. Not only would we have to deal with the effects of a fifth surgery, we were certain that there would be some additional misery that would keep us in the hospital twice the expected time.
We checked in on Monday and when they wheeled her away Tuesday morning, I dashed off to my gym for 85 minutes.
When I stepped out, realized that my ringer was off and there were eight missed calls.
They cancelled the surgery.
So on the steps of Penn Station, madly called everyone in the hospital to find out what happened. (As a side note, trying to speak to a human being in a hospital is easier said than done). The surgeon ultimately called me back.
He said that just before starting the surgery, he spoke to Alison and was pleasantly surprised at how responsive she was and how much stronger she looked. So he cancelled the surgery minutes before it was about to happen and told me to come take her home.
I’m not a superstitious man. Still, I’m reluctant to write anything too hopeful. After all, all emotional pain and joy happens in that gap between what you hope and what you actually get.
And yet, I’m slightly more hopeful now. But we can’t stop until the job is done.
Doctor: Yes, 100%. Keep doing what you’re doing and we’ll see her in a month. Take her home, Logan.
Me: I’ll be right there.