OK, maybe that title was a bit dramatic. NO ONE IS DYING. But Ed (Just the Tip) went and broke his streak of no visits to the ER for well over a year by dislocating his shoulder and breaking off the ball of his humerus because HEY WHY NOT MAKE AN ALREADY HORRIFIC INJURY WAY FUCKING WORSE. After an ambulance ride (because he couldn’t stand up and no way in HELL was I going to try and lift him and get him to the car which was on the complete opposite side of the park), x-rays, tons of morphine that did jack to ease his pain in the slightest and some entertaining people-watching (Friday night in the emergency room of a college town = drunkity drunk drunk stupidity) we received word that since there was a fracture Ed would require surgery that night to reset his arm. FUN!
This was all happening around 11pm, so it was 1am by the time he was wheeled in and after 3am* when the surgeon came out to report that everything had gone well and that once Ed was awake I could see him. After having an amusing conversation with my looped-out-of-his-mind husband – who has zero recollection of me even being there after his surgery – I got to answer approximately eleventyhundredjabillion questions about his medical history while the nurses urged me to go home and sleep once we were done.
“But I don’t want to leave him! What if he wakes up disoriented?”
“Oh, he’s had a lot of meds pumped into him. He’s not waking up any time soon.”
So I left around 5:30 and, unable to relax and sleep due to adrenaline and the crack-laced hospital coffee I drank at 2am, turned on the TV and watched Sixteen Candles because a.) I could not sleep and b.) it is a rule of mine that if it’s on, I WATCH IT. I woke up around 7:30 when my mom called to ask about Ed. Sure, getting one hour of sleep over the last 24 is probably not going to end well, but HEY JUST GET ME SOME OF THAT CRACK-COFFEE AND WE’LL BE FINE!
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We had a post-op visit and x-ray yesterday and it turns out Ed has nine screws/pins and a metal plate in his shoulder. He’s like the Six Million Dollar Man! Also: he will likely be subject to the WORST TSA searches/pat-downs ever so that will make air travel extrasuperfun from now on.
As rough as this has been on Ed, I must say he is a.) insanely tough and b.) taking this all in stride waaaayyy better than I ever would. After the initial impact, he was asked to rate his pain on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being “the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your life.” His response? “Well, it’s definitely the worst pain I’ve ever been in, but I’m sure there’s something worse so I’ll say a 9.” My response? “It’s an 11. Give him whatever meds you’ve got.” I also think this pain scale is much more effective, but the nurses didn’t get it when I told them it probably felt like he was being mauled by a bear. Aside from handling the pain, discomfort, and other inconveniences of all of this, he’s been incredibly patient with me as I juggle caring for him, handling our families and their well-meaning-yet-totally-over-the-top calls and histrionics over something that is ultimately GOING TO BE FINE. Maybe we’re both just numb to this kind of shit after Cervixpalooza 2011, Ed’s dad’s sundry hospitalizations, and my early experiences with my own dad but we’re both of the *shrug* “Eh, this blows but it could have been worse and at least they make decent pain meds” camp. And while I wouldn’t characterize any of this as “fun” per se, it has forced us to slow down, cancel some events, and spend some quiet time without feeling like we should be doing anything other than hanging out together. And our living room slumber parties (Ed asleep in an armchair, me on the couch, and Molly in her bed on the floor near us) haven’t been the most restful but hey! We’re all together! Glass half full! Pollyanna REPRESENT!
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In the midst of all this…stuff we celebrated three years of togetherness on April 3rd (which is also the day we got engaged one year later) and reminisced about that first date that I almost canceled/rescheduled and am so glad I sucked it up, slapped on some lip gloss, and met the best person I know. Before you roll your eyes so hard you sprain something, remember this was a blind date and so I emailed his name, picture, and phone number to several friends in case he tried to kill me. BASK IN THE GLOW OF OUR LOVE AND ALSO MY CRIPPLING TRUST ISSUES AND PARANOIA!
*Shout out to our good friend J for hanging with me until 4:30 in the morning so I wouldn’t have too sit in the creepy, dark, empty waiting room all by myself. That guy is aces.
Is This Thing On? 