July 19. Finally, we thought the big day had arrived.
I had called Dr. Maitland's office the week before and was told to be at the hospital on the 19th. We were booked to be the second surgery of the day.
I thought that ought to be a pretty good tee-time. By mid-day or so the coffee should have kicked in and, as long as the surgical team hadn't been partying too much on the weekend, then I'd be in good hands.
It was very exciting to finally have a date, even if it was six months after the problem became serious. The excitement was tinged with fear because, well, they'd be cutting open my chest and my heart and trying to fix something that never used to be fixable. Plus, this was a serious operation ... I mean, I could die.
So, we drove up to Calgary on Sunday and had a good evening. I slept reasonably well and we showed up at 9 a.m.
A very nice nurse led us through the paper-work and then handed me the fashion of the day. While changing I had to wipe myself down completely with these anti-bacterial wipes which was not at all unpleasant. They were warm, thick, soft, pleasant-smelling and, after I knew I was really clean.
Then we had to wait. And wait. And wait.
If it hadn't been for sudoku, I'd have gone crazy.
About 11-ish, a person in OR scrubs who was an anesthetist came to explain that they were running behind but that they'd probably come for me around 1-ish.
More waiting, and waiting, and waiting. By this time I'm getting hungry. I haven't eaten anything since the great piece of roasted salmon I'd had about 7 p.m. the night before. I was starving.
Finally, around 2-ish, Michelle, the nice anesthetist (who looked not much older than Elizabeth) came to put us out of our misery. My surgery was postponed. Disappointing, yes, but at least I could have something to eat. The hospital chicken-salad sandwich tasted pretty good by this time.
Dr. Maitland dropped by to offer his apologies, things hadn't gone as planned, and his office would be in touch next week about a new date.
So, a let-down for sure. But I'd certainly rather have a surgeon and a surgical team who were awake and on top of their game than tired and grumpy at the end of a long day.
My friend Tom says it must have been kind of like false labour ... all the build-up but no baby to show in the end.
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