The sun had just risen as our alarm sang out, “Get the heck up! You need to be at the hospital by 7am!!!” (Our alarm clock believes in tough love). Surgery day had arrived. I had no idea what was happening, but fortunately before bed I had ingrained it into my psyche that I would thrust my body out of bed, put my pants on, walk the dog, and fling the wife into the car. We were off to make the journey across town to U.C.L.A. but first to pick up our buddy Nick O. He was awesome enough to keep me company during the longest hours a hubby can have.
We were driving down the 405 before rush hour even had a chance to catch us. We zoomed into U.C.L.A. (actually on time!) and Dana started filling out some pre-surgery paperwork. And within moments they sent me off to the waiting room. Why they won’t let me stay with Dana as they prep her I may understand, but I will never appreciate. I wanted to be there to talk to the anesthesiologist to discuss the options when medicating Dana (last time her blood pressure kept dropping dangerously low, while the pain was intolerable… oh, and she kept puking all day from the meds. FUN!)
Once I was allowed to re-join Dana, she told me she had discussed the plan with the anesthesiologist and everything should be fine. And within moments, they were wheeling my wife away. I kissed her and told her I love her as the doors to the O.R. swung open, just as they have done so many times before. The nurses pushed Dana down the hall and I watched as my wife became smaller and smaller until the O.R. doors shut, just as they have done so many times before. This is when I always have that momentary thud in my gut, but there is no choice but to shake it off and find something that will distract.
This is actually a pic from the last surgery, but even that pink spot on the ground is still there.
oof.
Nothing distracts like food. So Nick and I are off to The Corner Bakery to grab something really indulgent. Egg sandwich with bacon, cheese and avacado? Yes, please and thank you. “To go please. We would stay, but we have a quite little chalet at U.C.L.A. called The Waiting Room that is ironically waiting for us.” It’s tight, windowless and stuffy in the waiting room, but overall it’s pretty pleasant… until we reach that moment. That moment when you realize the surgery should be over and the doctor should come around the corner at any moment… but he doesn’t.
And… then… he… DOES! He tells me everything went well. That they removed the old implant and successfully replaced it with a new one (Which he had NEVER DONE BEFORE!!! Since Dana was one of the first to ever take part in this procedure, she is one of the first to ever have the old implant removed to make room for a new one.) .
My poor little patch girl.
Eventually they let me see Dana. She is asleep, but when she wakes she is in horrible pain. The nurse doesn’t want to give her more drugs, but I explain to them that we’ve done this before and the pain gets worse with each procedure. The nurse is worried that Dana will stop breathing. While Dana is barely conscious she murmers, “I’ll keep breathing, I promise.” (Have I mentioned how much I love my wife.) The anesthesiologist comes in and signs some papers, which makes the skies part and the big drugs show up. They put it in Dana’s drip and she is out like a light. She sleeps for another hour and when I wake her she is in a much better state. It takes a while, but we get her dressed and wheel her to the car.
Even half asleep, Dana is gangsta in my Pirates of The Caribbean shirt from our Disney anniversary celebration the day before.
We’ve done it. We’re out of the hospital! Dana calls her parents and then resumes the activity she will do all day (and the majority of the following 4 days). She sleeps and sleeps and sleeps. She wakes up for a moment in the car and demands a Diet Coke. Yup, everything is going to be O.K.
You can cut her and drug her but you can’t keep her from her Diet Coke.
Today, Dana is far from fully operational, but she is doing well and we’ve been catching up on some much needed t.v. and movie watching. Last night we even went to see Prince! My wife is the ultimate trooper. Dana went from lying on the couch and the bed 24/7, to rocking a patch amongst 17,000 people in the middle of the Los Angeles Forum. It was a definite strain but she paced herself and fortunately, just like magical Dolphins, Prince has the ability to cure all ailments (at least momentarily.)
Our thanks goes out to the amazing staff at U.C.L.A., who not only are incredibly talented, but were incredibly warm and caring in our most fragile moments. We also owe so much thanks for all the support we have received from our amazing peeps, like you! I am happy to say that in its last days Dishing For Dana is going gangbusters. There are still a couple of days to bid on some amazing deals offered by some amazing companies in our Dishing For Dana auction. Check them out here.
Thank you so much to all of you for all your well wishes, donations and love. It means more than you can ever know.
) ) and I thought I should give you a recipe. It’s a recipe I’m totally fond of, and it’s THE recipe.