Thursday, July 19, 2012

Richie Is The Star

He is having out-patient surgery for a rotator cuff tear, starting at 11:30 a.m.  He was told that the person transporting him could have him back around 4 p.m. today.

That would be me. 

When he had the angiogram, the doctor came out to me in the waiting room, briefed me and departed.  I flew quickly to my poor husband's bedside, ready to soothe and comfort him only to find him nodding in and out for the next couple of hours.  To say he was conversationally challenged is understatement. 

If he stays true to his previous form, I'll be okay to slip off for an hour to the South Bay Writers Workshop which he has urged me to do - does he have an eye on a comely nurse?  Best not to linger at Thurs. Writers...

He's home, he's settled in his recliner.  Surgery was 55-58 minutes and he was in Recovery.  He's complaining of a sore throat - they used a gas and propofil to knock him out, but he's not singing and dancing like Michael Jackson...

Barring my killing him (anesthesia makes him cranky, not groggy) he will make an uneventful recovery.

One funny note:  the receptionist told me the doctor would see me in the doctor-patient conference room which turned out to be a small windowless room with a half table and two chairs.  The table held a vase of flowers and a very large box of Kleenex.  This struck me as ominous on two counts - doctors have always come out to me in the waiting room -- and there is no Kleenex to hand.  I remarked on this to his doctor which rattled him and then he said, "Patient privacy" and fled.

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