Another day, another lesson learned, another notch in our collective 'we're figuring marriage out' belt. Yesterday, Ryan had outpatient surgery to repair a torn ligament in his ankle that has been bothering him for several years. Relatively routine according to his surgeon, and in 12 - 16 weeks, he should be as good as new.
After waking at 5am, getting ready (second to getting Ryan's ankle all fixed, being the hottest person in the waiting room was my #2 priority), and loading everything on my 'take with us' list, we headed to the hospital. We got checked in, and very shortly afterward, they called us back to pre-op.
Calling 'us' back was a giant upgrade - when he had a wisdom tooth removed last summer, they called his name and he jumped out of his chair and walked (read: speed walked) through the door without so much as looking at me. It all happened so quickly that I didn't have time to ask if I was supposed to accompany him like everyone else waiting with a patient had. We were 2 weeks shy of being engaged so as 'just' a girlfriend, I wasn't entirely sure what my role was. By the time I had gathered my thoughts and realized that he had just left me in the waiting room, I figured I should just wait it out.
This time, however, we had a game plan - and he didn't sprint through the doors without me. Progress! After some idle chat and pre-op procedures, it was time for me to go play the part of the nervous wife who ate a danish and Cheez-Its to pass the time until I heard that he had pulled through. Roughly an hour later, I received that wonderful news, texted all of the people who were waiting to hear, and waited again until I could see him.
Another 45 minutes passed, and my buzzer lit up, telling me that it was time to be reunited with my love! Last summer after he woke up from anesthesia, he was SO sweet and thankful and appreciative --- repeatedly telling me how much he loved me, and then immediately after, 'No! It's not the medicine talking...I REALLY love you!'
After a more serious procedure, I knew that he would be just as excited as I was to be reunited. I practically ran the little old nurse over as she was leading me to his recovery bay, and like it always does, my heart skipped a beat when I saw him. He looked very tired and very sore, so I gently made my way to his bed side and softly kissed his forehead and asked him how he was doing. He mumbled 'Okay' and I briefly turned to pull a chair up next to him. Before I even sat down, he squeaked out a soft, pathetic 'Will you rub my head?' Of course I will! I quickly stood back up, inched myself closer to him, and rubbed his head exactly 2.5 times.
It was at that very moment that my sweet, quietly mumbling post-op husband squinted his eyes, and deeply growled, 'Quit TOUCHING me!' Well, not quite the 'No! I REALLY love you' that I was hoping for, but I change my mind quickly, too, so I understand. And I immediately left him alone and sat in my chair next to him.
He was starting to get hungry, so our nice nurse brought him in some crackers and opened the first package for him and told us she'd be back in a bit. Not touching him, but wanting to be helpful however I could, after he finished the first package I asked, 'honey, want me to open up those crackers for you?' Not only did this annoy him, as evidenced by the eye roll, 'NO!!', and exasperrated 'gah!', but he was apparently so disgusted with my offer that he turned his head away from me and faced the wall instead.
It was all I could do to not crack up laughing at his very out of character moodiness, and I had to bite my lip a little when he rolled his head back to me 45 seconds later and brought back the pathetic squeak to say, 'Baby, will you open the crackers for me please?' The same crackers that I just got sent to time out for asking about? Sure, sweetie.
Had he not been so darn cute and helpless and drugged, I would have sent myself back out to the waiting room like during the wisdom tooth banishment. But knowing that he was heavily medicated, delirious, and hungry, I gave the guy a break and opened his crackers. And stopped TOUCHING him, too!
Now home and off the happy juice, he is back to his sweet self, and I'm pleased to report that I have earned back my touching him priviledges!
I think we've justified our excessive pillow collection, and as sad as I am that he is uncomfortable and laid up, I am thankful for our extra couch time that we've gotten.
He's been laid up on the couch for the last 36 hours and will be for the next 2 more days, but I think he is on the road to recovery. On the bright side, I have been using the opportunity to hone my cooking skills, honor my 'in sickness and in health' vows, and most importantly, plot my revenge for when I'm drugged up birthing our children.
