The 15th

When the 14th turned into the 15th this February, I was awake packing for R and me to travel across the state to meet our potential birth mom and daughter and R was lying on the living room floor trying to find a comfortable position for his "stomach ache".  


Now, at this point in our adoption story we had been through labor before.  I was prepared to wait to hear about the birth because in our experience once a birth mother has surgery to deliver in the middle of the night, texting the adoption agency with details of the delivery may not be her first priority.  And she might be unconscious.    


We did not get an update that night, but I did make a trip to Wal Mart for stomach medicine for my dear husband.  


We attempted to sleep.  At six that morning we got up to leave for our drive across central Florida.  That didn't happen.  


The nearby Urgent Care clinic opened at nine, so we napped for a couple of hours and then I acted like an adult and called our vet so Tanner and Shelbs had a place to stay while we were gone and arranged their transport (thank you JWH!).  We had a short wait before R was taken back at the clinic and the PA gently explained that he had two options:  get a CT scan and have surgery to take out his appendix, or get a CT scan and be prescribed medicine to help this "stomach ache".  R then gently explained that the PA would have to tell his wife about the CT scan and delay of at least four hours because he wasn't going to tell her they weren't about to leave to go meet their daughter and birth mother (he did end up telling me). 


Elsewhere in the sunshine state, our social worker was on her way to meet the birth mom and knew we were at the clinic.  And I considered going to a lunch training session at work while R had the scan done....but I didn't.  We both felt confident in our adoption agency and I was comforted that the pregnancy counselor and our social worker would be with the birth mom.  One of the cool things about our agency, in our opinion, is that they are with you during the entire placement process.


R sent a text message letting me know that the scan was done and we'd probably be able to leave soon.  Then the nurse took me back to see him and mentioned the paperwork and scan data needed to be taken back to the doctor so R could be admitted to the hospital.  I was a bit confused but just went with it.


The pain seemed to escalate rather quickly while we waited for this nice doctor to admit R, and then for the nice people in admitting to fill out paperwork, and then for the nice volunteer with the wheel chair to come take him to a room.  This was the most difficult part of the day, watching my husband in so much pain and not being able to help.  


I was super impressed with his surgeon who came to see him in the room before a nurse even got there.  He was to go to surgery prep immediately.  


Now.  I'll spare you the details of surgery prep, but we are pretty sure this is when the appendix actually ruptured.


The second hardest part of the day came at this point.  R was on several drugs and heavily sedated.  Our social worker called with very important news that required a decision.  I put her on speaker, but when asked later, R didn't remember the conversation.  After I hung up the phone I actually cried.  I believe adoption can be a beautiful thing, but it's beauty shares the stage with how difficult it can be, how you face decisions that you have never imagined even having to consider.  And, I broke not because of the news, but because I received it alone.  


It was over quickly though.  I do not normally cry.  A talent that proved immeasurable during my time in the space business area at work.


R's surgery was successful and I had some wonderful and thoughtful people visit me while he was in the OR.  I also had some pretty great mushroom barely soup and a milkshake some kind friends brought me.


It's an odd feeling - seeing your strong, dependable husband hooked to equipment being lifted from one hospital bed to another because he is too weak and too unconscious to help himself.  I'm sure many people can understand.  I remember seeing my father after surgery and my grandfather after his stroke.  It changes your view of the world.


Now, a while back I opened the story of squirmy's adoption and R's appendicitis with an elevator story.  After R was back in his room, minus an appendix and with his charming roommate whom might have served our country during WWII, I went home to sleep for a bit (after the nice ladies helped me find the lobby; who knows how long I would have wandered around the fourth floor looking for the exit).  


Aren't you happy the 15th is finally over?