We went to bed at least two hours early the night before my surgery. My alarm was set for 4:00. Mr. FixIt awoke at three. I didn’t lollygag around and jumped right in the shower. I needed to scrub again with that special antibacterial soap to cut down the risk of infection during surgery. My skin feels like the Sahara Desert but I’m clean as a whistle.

We left at 4:30…plenty of time to navigate the icy, snow packed streets for the five block drive to the hospital. Mr. FixIt dropped me off at the front door of the registration area and headed for the parking garage. Unfortunately, the doors were locked. An employee came along and let me in with him. I walked all around and there was a sign that said the registration area was closed. I couldn’t find anyone to even ask, so I called my sweetie to come back and get me. We were obviously at the wrong spot. 

He was already in the parking garage so he swung back around and they let I’m out without paying. He came to get me and dropped me off at the other hospital and headed back to the garage. And….there was no one there, either! I called him back. The guy at the garage must have thought he was crazy. He came and got me and we went back to the first hospital and this time there was a line at the desk ten deep and I was now 10 minutes late!

Someone mentioned if you were there for an early surgery, you needed to go over to a different room. A few of us made our way their, asking “What time is your surgery?” along the way, democratically selecting the priority patient. I won. Within two minutes, I was called with another couple to follow a gentleman to the preop staging area. I was assured someone would bring my husband along as soon as he came in from the parking garage.

I went through the typical rigamarole one is subjected to when prepping for surgery. Lots of questions that you’ve already answered a hundred times. An IV placement by a very skilled IV Nurse along with a blood draw. ECG tabs placed on my chest and a reading taken. Blood pressure taken, pulse counted, blood oxygen measured. Papers signed. Visits by the different departments involved. And finally, the wait for the attending physician to arrive….this time after driving in on bad roads.

I’ve had a lot of surgeries and worked in medicine for a long time. There is something I do every time I’m about to go under the knife. I look around the room and ask in an upbeat voice… “How are we all doing today? Is this a great day, or what!?!” Then I grab the hand of the nearest staff member and say a quick prayer.

“Jesus, be with us today. Thank you for these good people.”

I’ve never had someone take their hand away.

The most lovely young women hovered around my head, smiling behind their masks. One said, “What music would you like to hear?” The first thing that popped in my mind was Enya’s Watermark Album. I listen to that on headphones whenever I’m at the dentist. I have since the ‘90s. She turned it on and set her phone by my head and I listened to the muted tones of Orinoco Flow. My shoulders relaxed as I remembered the days when my baby was tiny and I would dance her around the room, gently swaying and rocking her to sleep. I knew I was going to get to dance yesterday, even if it was just in my mind.

There was something special about the way these women guided me off to sleep. Female voices. Nurturing voices. Hands holding me, paying rapt attention to me as if I were the center of the universe. It was like a lullaby. 

“Hear us now.” A plastic mask was placed over my face. “Now…take a couple of deep slow breaths and you’re going to feel sunshine going into your hand.” I smiled at that image. It didn’t burn or sting…it was the pleasant feeling of sunshine on my skin. “Now, you’ll taste the sunshine and we’ll be right here with you.” I tasted the sun on the edge of my tongue and I was totally gone.

What an amazing way to go to sleep. And, you know what? I woke up the very same way…warmed by the sun, the memory of dancing with my baby to the Orinoco Flow still fresh in my memory, even though three-and-a-half hours had passed. It was remarkable. I must write them a note to thank them for their precious way.

Again, there was good news, and uncertain news. This surgeon was also unable to visualize the two parathyroid glands that they couldn’t find in Florida. However, the upper right, which was normal in March of 2020 was now enlarged and putting off too much parathyroid hormone so it was removed. My numbers didn’t go down in the OR like they had hoped. There was a possibility that part of my thyroid would be removed in order to take out any glands trapped inside. The surgeon made a decision to leave the thyroid intact because my vocal cord nerve was enmeshed in it and he didn’t want to risk damaging my voice.

So, here we are….back where we were last March. Hopefully optimistic with eleven months of experience to the otherwise under my belt. Going in a second time is risky. Going in a third time can be outright dangerous. I don’t know if it was the gentle way I was led under sedation or my skill at pragmatism, but I’m ready to move forward into whatever is waiting ahead of me. 

God is the ultimate healer, so I’m just going to give this to him every day and ask him to take care of it for me. Sometimes we can’t fix things…we can just carry them. I’m not upset. I’m still hopeful. I trust Jesus to carry this…either away from me, or for me. Either way, I will feel joy!

❄️❤️❄️

“Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved, for you are my praise.”

Jeremiah 17:14 ESV