My surgery was scheduled for last Monday. All details were worked out. Adam would take his weeks vacation to take care of me and the kids. I wouldn't be permitted to pick anything up over 5 pounds for a month. (Yeah, like that's gonna happen!)
I had to be at the hospital by 5:30 AM. Adam wasn't thrilled. He has never been a morning person, but he got his cup of coffee and bag of what I thought was full of things to keep his amuzement during the hours he'd have to wait while I went under the knife, and never complained.
While I waited in my room to be taken to surgery, Adam sat drinking his coffee. I watched him take his last swig. Knowing he would need more to carry him through, I said, "That guy said there was coffee in the waiting room."
Adam smiled, "Don't worry, I have it covered."
He threw his backpack up on the side table and unzipped it to reveal a whole airpot full of coffee. He pumped a steamy cup of brewed coffee into his cup then zipped it back up.
"Are you serious?" I chuckled.
I could tell Adam was very proud of himself, "I don't trust hospital coffee. It always sucks, and it's going to be a long day."
Lesson 82: bringing your own pot full of coffee, hidden in a backpack, to the hospital = white trash
They soon came and wisked me away to get prepped. During this time, the anaesthesiologist came to check me out and tell me what was going to happen. He told me I would have to take a few breaths in the gas mask.
"Oh no, not the mask." I joked. I recounted the story from when I got tubes put in my ears at age 6. My anaesthesiologist for that procedure happened to be my cousin. He put the mask on me and I started to cry. My cousin smiled and said, "That's right Jessie, go ahead and cry." What?! I felt betrayed and terrified. I told this story to lighten the mood, but they took it as I was going to be trouble.
"Are you closterphobic?" the one nurse asked, seeming quite concerned.
"No," I answered.
"Are you going to have a problem with the mask?" the anaesthesiologist questioned.
I rolled my eyes, "I doubt it. I am an adult now."
They obviously didn't believe me. As they pushed me down the hall, the one nurse said to the other, "Maybe you should give this one a shot of B12."
The other nurse smiled as he stuck stuff in my IV. Being suspicious I asked, "Hey, is that really B12 or is it something funny?"
"Let's just say I'm gonna look real good in a few seconds," the other guy told me.
Lesson 83: being drugged because you tried to be funny = white trash
Needless to say, I don't recall having to breath into the mask.
After the ordeal was over, Adam took me home and locked me in our room. I hardly remember anything from that day. I would wake up and hear the muffled sound of random crying or Adam yelling at kids then I would pass out again.
I woke up the next morning to Jovie and Stone crying. Adam slept next to me. I vaguely remember Adam bringing Stone in to feed him during the night, and getting up to wipe Jude's poopy bum. I shook him awake. "The kids are up."
Adam growled as he threw the blankets off him, "All I want is five minutes of undisturbed sleep!"
I smiled. How many times had those exact words spilled from my own lips? Adam hadn't even been on duty for a full 24 hours. Over the next few days I watched my husband transform into a haggard version of myself. The glazed over stare that usually looked back at me from the mirror loomed across Adam's handsome face, and phrases I spoke on a regular basis spewed from his mouth like he'd been saying them for years.
"What is wrong with you kids?!"
"I can't help everyone at the same time!"
"Can you not make a mess for like five minutes?! Is that too much to ask?!"
"Give me five freaking seconds!"
He did have a few new ones, like, "Jovie, you are five seconds away from adoption!" I thoroughly enjoyed that one.
He even treated me the way I treat him most of the time. I wanted to show him something online one day, like he often does, and he answered me with, "I can't right now, I have to get this laundry done." When I would ask him what was wrong, he'd say, "Nothing. I'm just tired."
The one bonus of him living my daily life was that he was the one wanting to go to bed at 11. He always gives me a hard time for passing out before midnight.
I overheard him on the phone, a few days ago, telling a co-worker he wanted to come back to work. He's used to being the boss, not being bossed around by children. By the end of the week he had nearly lost his mind. The last straw was having to change Jovie's bed 3 days in a row. She had decided she didn't want to wear a diaper at night any more and would rip it off and pee all over her blankets.
Lesson 84: duct taping your daughter's diaper on her body = white trash
Adam went back to work today. I'm sure he's reveling in the quiet. I am sad to not have him here. He really did take good care of me and supplied me with plenty of entertainment!