What would you do if you had hours to kill while someone you loved was having major surgery? It’s not a question you get asked very often I don’t suppose. I’m down at Addenbrooke’s hospital in Cambridge, while my husband has an operation to fix his poorly bowel. He was due to go down to theatre at 8am, and I have been awake since 5.30 trying to stay calm and keep my mind off things. Speaking to his surgeon yesterday, if all went well he could be done by lunchtime, but if there were complications it could take all day.
As lunchtime for me is usually 11.30 (come on, I get up really early), it’s now gone 1pm and I am starting to sweat. I’ve tried listening to music (Beck, Elbow, Joni Mitchell, all too maudlin so had to turn to Pharell and the Polyphonic Spree for forced happiness), I’ve read the papers (thank God for my iPad) been for a walk and shopped online (another jumper from Gap and a cute apple print top for baby gal). I’ve spoken to my mum and called the recovery ward, only to be told he is still in theatre and to call back later. I wish I hadn’t bothered.
When I finally get the call it’s 2.30pm, and I jump so high I nearly hit the roof. When I hear that everything has gone well, I fire questions at the surgeon just to make doubly sure there haven’t been any setbacks. After all, every time we’ve been in hospital since this all happened last May we’ve rarely been given really good news. In fact, as I walk from my room to see my husband, a massive smile across my face, I wonder if the last time I was in a hospital feeling this happy was when baby gal was born last summer.
At last, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted and things seem to finally be going our way…
PS As you can see from this photo, the op was on the 28th but it’s taken me a few days to find the time to write this post. I’ve been kind of busy as you can see! My watch was a Christmas present from my husband, chosen by me after much deliberation and ordering and sending back of several other styles. Can you see a pattern here?!