I somehow needed to get through the fog of yesterday’s first post-surgery post. It feels like a major victory after eventually composing just a paragraph at a time over three days. Hopefully, I can move much faster now that I’m not having to correct each and every word written. My finger strokes are approaching normal while my sluggish brain is better cooperating. It’s much like running when it takes a number of steps to settle into a coordinated rhythm. Just another foot forward!

With any major surgery, you need to get your house in order. Updating wills/medical directives, planning for pet care, pre-paying bills, arranging transportation, packing and making lists are some of the basic steps involved. Since my surgery was in Tampa, two hours away, and in the early morning, I also needed hotel accommodations. The popular Gasparilla Festival was going on to further complicate these plans. I began making reservations two-months in advance, trying to utilize points, and searching convenient locations nearest the hospital. We wanted the comfort and familiarity of what we fondly refer to as, “Mother Marriott.” This is why I have a hard time digesting what ultimately happened! I ended up making two separate reservations through Marriott at their Westin location. My wife was justifiably upset with me that I couldn’t get the smaller, closer Marriott properties and more nights.  I had apparently waited too long to do this, but in my defense, the points would not be available in our account before mid-December. With all the pending medical expenses, I admittedly was trying to save a few bucks. This came back to haunt me! 

We went to Texas Roadhouse the Sunday eve of surgery for my “last meal.” I didn’t have much of an appetite, so my wife took ribs back to the room. I had just gotten my final instructions from the surgeon to be at the hospital at 5a for 7a surgery, at least the events would not be delayed for a few hours as once thought. We double-checked at the Westin front deck to be assured that my two reservations were linked together and that my wife would not have to switch rooms. No problem! It was a hotel we had stayed at several years ago for Santana/Earth, Wind, Fire concert that would celebrate my 70th birthday. We ended up being a year early! (See Post #1786).

Before going to bed, I thoroughly scrubbed my body with the prescribed disinfectant cloths, a process I would repeat after finishing a mile-plus on the treadmill at about 3:30a. It was consecutive run #5,497 and the end of my running streak. The Westin was a little further than we hoped from the hospital parking and no more than a five-minute drive since no one else was on the sleepy, dark streets. All went smoothly through check-in, and I was soon sedated for two full-days, unaware of what was happening back at the Westin after my wife returned for her second night – this time alone. 

Surgeons were texting her throughout the day with updates on my condition, and she got back to the room, knowing that I would not regain consciousness until the next day. A second day of surgery was necessary to fix “the roots.” I’m sure she was exhausted and on pins and needles while eating her warmed-over ribs. She had just gotten to sleep when she got the first phone call on the room phone at 12:30a. It was confusing to her why that phone was ringing and not her cell phone, so she ignored it in the process of searching her mind for an explanation. A few minutes later the phone rang again and the banging began on the door. She was terrified that someone was about to break in or that something was wrong with me, but could hear the muffled words, “It’s Security…Who’s in that room?”

Continued…