After

It's officially been a week since my boyfriend's life saving surgery. He did great. He is healing slowly but surely. I couldn't be more relieved. I want to catalog certain details, so let me back up...

Last Monday, the day before the surgery, the hospital put us in a hotel nearby, as we live in a different city (about an hour away), and he had to be there at 6:00AM. I worked all day Monday, but it was SO hard to focus. I was feeling a million different things. In fact, the days leading up to last Monday were hellish. I had a lot of anxiety. He was hiding behind jokes. His family came to town.

I have been responsible for all the driving, as he cannot drive for at least a month. I drove us all to the hotel Monday night after work. It was a tense drive. It was late, and since we had to be up early, we planned to go right to bed. Obviously we knew sleeping would be difficult.

The hotel had a jacuzzi, which was surprisingly open late. I had brought my bathing suit (like I always do for any hotel stay) and convinced him to go for a late night dip. We thought the heat might help us relax for sleep.

I remember it all so clearly. Trying to keep the mood light. Trying to stay calm. Sitting next to him in this hotel jacuzzi, watching a little boy and his dad swimming in the pool. They had a sauna as well, so once we were done with the jacuzzi, we went in there. The hotel towels were so small and scratchy. The sauna was lovely. But before long it was time to go back to our room. It was nearly 10:00PM.

We got in bed and talked for awhile. I turned the light off and tried to fall asleep. I could NOT get comfortable. I usually bring my pillow for travel but for whatever reason this time I did not. I hate hotel pillows. I kept tossing and turning. And then my allergies ramped up. I sneezed and got up to blow my nose multiple times. This was gonna be a long night. Eventually, I passed out for about 3 hours.

I woke up to him tossing and turning. And basically stayed up the rest of the night. We had an alarm set for 4:30AM but turned the light on and started talking around 4AM. He was so nervous. I was scared but trying to stay calm, supportive, and loving. I reminded him how much better he would feel after the surgery. I told him I would be by his side the whole time. I told him how much I loved him.

And then it was time to go. I drove us to the hospital, in the dark. As we walked in, my panic began to build and I started to feel all the feelings. We took the elevator to the surgical floor and got in line to check in. It was interesting to see that there were about 20 people there at that early hour, waiting to check in for surgery, or with loved ones checking in. Tears quickly filled my eyes but didn't fall. This was all so fucking real. I took a few deep breaths.

All too quickly, they called him back for surgical prep. They had told me I'd be able to go to him once this was complete, before they took him to the operating room. I sat there in the waiting room, bogged down with books, my journal, a cooler, my purse, his water bottle... I got into a conversation with a woman seated nearby. Her son was having brain surgery. We had a nice rapport. It soothed me. Then he texted me, and I went back to him.

He was wearing a hospital gown, with a surgical bonnet around his head. He was hooked up to fluids. We were in a small room with a curtain. Just me, him, and his mom. The time was approximately 8AM. We sat there and talked for hours. Around 11:45AM, the surgical nurse came to ask him some questions and go over the surgery. This is when the panic set in FOR REAL. He looked at me, I looked at him, we both started crying. I bent over the bed, hugging him, telling him to be brave, telling him I loved him. It's a blur but I remember it so well. After just a moment or two, the nurse came back and said to say our goodbyes.

At this point, I'm visibly terrified and unable to stop the tears. I wasn't sobbing, but I was crying and our eyes were locked on each other. Even now, typing this, I feel the pain in my chest from those moments. God, it was so fucked up. For months now, my biggest fear was that he would die on the table. I was truly afraid of this happening. I've gone through so much horrible shit in my life, it seemed like almost a given that I'd lose him this way. But I held on to the smallest bit of courage I could find deep within. I said good bye and see you later and walked away.

Those first few minutes after we left him, I had a panic attack. I could feel it. I was breathing heavy, shaking, my brain was spinning a mile minute, I was in fight or flight mode. I told her I needed to go drop some of the stuff off in my car and off I went. I walked away from her and it was so surreal. People everywhere and my love away from me, about to be knocked out and cut open. I walked to the car and back in record time, then stopped in the bathroom. I was sweating like mad so I reapplied deodorant and took more deep breaths. I knew it was going to be a long day. It had already been a long day. 

I'm going to stop for now. More later.