Surgery Such Anyway You Look At It

The drugs help but … they can’t make up for clean cotton sheets, country fresh air, pet chicken fresh eggs. soft curious nuzzles from beloved pets and a loving family watching every move I make: they are the wind beneath my wings.

While only one person may go through the surgery, the entire family feels the pain.

I was struck by the hospital room’s odors: vinyl upholstery, plastic mattress cover, plastic cups, and of course the ever present IV drip.Whatever that liquid transportation system dispensed into my system, it transferred needed medications without the need of ‘sticking’ me any more than possible. But it also tethered me to an extension cord that was six inches too short to comfortably maneuver in the room and making going the a bathroom a marathon event. Often requiring a team.

My senses were overwhelmed. The odor of the medications, the IV altering my taste buds, my numbed bottom from being able to lay in only one position. Fortunately, I could relax my eyes by glazing outside across at the rooftop gravel and tar studded vents; to glimpse the tree on the horizon. Thank you dear Lord for that tree. In my medicated state, that rooftop turned into a zen rock garden and the heliport wind Doppler became the crest of arms protecting me. Hey, creativity is what you make it. Right.