A Surgery Not My Own

Yes! It’s happening.

I’m going to surgery Wednesday and I’m not the patient.

It’s about damn time.

Okay, so I should be a little more compassionate for my poor husband. He’s the one having surgery. But it really is minor. At least in my opinion. Remember, when we first met my oncologist, he asked if we knew the definition of “minor surgery.” Boy, did we shock him when we both answered “surgery that happens to someone else.” We also took away his starting joke.

Still, any surgery they let me sit in during can’t be that bad. And I’ll probably get to sit in during this one. Charlie needs to have a cyst removed. He could probably live with it, but we went through two other cysts for years and years and the agony he’d be in during flare ups was awful We had to have another removed while on a business trip during the first big snow of the year in Indianapolis. No fun at all. So, when the doctor gave surgery as the third possible choice of how to deal with this bump/rash/itching Charlie’s had for the last two weeks, he jumped at it (and if he hadn’t jumped, I was ready to push).

About four years ago, Charlie went to this same doctor to have another cyst removed. It was an old, well in-grown one. Charlie got happy drugs and just laid face down on the table. I got to watch the festivities from a chair in the corner. It was a zoo. Since we’re at the med school, the doctor has a brand new med student with him. So new he was explaining how to put on gloves. We also had a new nurse in a new room so no one knew where anything was. Instead of a surgerical kit, the nurse opened a catheter, which Charlie really didn’t need. When they finally got gloved up and started, they discovered the sanitary drape was upside down, so their hands immediately stuck to the adhesive that was supposed to hold the drape to Charlie’s back. So they got to repeat the lesson on how to put on gloves. And the cyst was huge under the skin, so it took hours to pull it all out. They almost filled a garbage can with bloody cloths and more than once the doctor looked like he just wanted to sew it up and send Charlie on to a surgeon, since the job was so much bigger than expected.

Now, to the doctor’s credit, nothing phased him. He stayed calm and patient with everyone throughout. He was an astonishing teacher. And he finished the job at about 6 on a Friday afternoon.

Things will be much better this Wednesday. This is a brand new cyst that hasn’t had time to get grown in.

And if I laugh too much or give Charlie a hard time, he’ll be able to get back at me in just two days when I get my port catheter removed.

Got to go…Ike has just dropped a fabric ball in his water and is trying to figure out what to do with a wet ball. The dog is over giving him ideas, so soon they’ll be fighting like cats and dogs with a wet ball.


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