Somethings Are Better Left Unsaid
12-19-07, 6:48 PM

After a sleepless night with anxiety coupled with a needy, crying dog, we arrived at the hospital around 9:30 for the surgical biopsy. My thoughts were: the initial labs were negative so this was a precautionary measure; second, due to the many hospital trips with my parents, grandmother, nieces and nephews, I've become emotionally numb.

Why worry about something I can't control? It's when the diagnosis comes back when I'll have to jump into action. My past hospital trips with family members now appears as a training ground- I know the questions to ask and make sound decisions based upon facts.

Well, I thought they took her back for surgery, instead it was just radiology to insert a wire to ensure the cyst was properly identified for removal. Inquiring at the nurses desk, they said she would be taken to "TASKS" after the procedure. Why don't they just call it the common name, Operating Room, such the layman could understand? Did they pay someone to create this name such that it appears a little more comforting?

The Nurses Desk did not offer any information regarding timing or procedures. They and I, then assumed I knew what the procedure was: she goes behind the door and they call me out when it is over.

Sitting in the waiting room, I become hungry by 10:30 a.m. so I internally debated as to whether or not to seek out the cafeteria -- just to check-out to see if they have pizza available which just happens to be my comfort food.

Past experiences made me a "pro" of hospital layouts, easily I found the ped-way to the annex building and eventually found signs leading to the cafeteria? "What if she comes out of the surgery and I'm not there? This is my first big test as a caring husband. But, I'm so hungry! I'll be quick. Hey look! There it is!"

Sure enough, they were between the breakfast and lunch hours and just began closing down. I managed to sneak through what become a self-locking door behind me, as I was the last customer now. A hanging "Pizzeria" sign I expected. as all hospital cafeterias serve pizza, afterall it is Americans' food staple. Unfortunately for me, this hospital had the sense to close it and stick to traditional breakfast, lunch and dinner hours with appropriate food for each.

Instead, I managed to receive the biggest breakfast burrito I've ever eaten! Delighted in my comfort food with grease dripping down my hand from the bacon, sausage, cheese, onions, mushrooms, green chilies and mushroom, my thoughts turned to: "I'm a bad husband. She could have a reaction to the anesthesia and I'm here scarfing-down a monster burrito. I'm supposed to be worried and concerned waiting for the doctor. What if she smells the burrito on breath?" So, I ate as quickly as possible and began my journey back with a white chocolate, caramel latte in a hand.

Being so focused on my quest to find coffee and a slice of pizza, I didn't take note of the hallways for landmarks, such as a picture or a procedure room, such I could retrace my steps back. I began to walk aimlessly and hopelessly in this unfamiliar hospital, whereas in the past when I lived Louisville, I knew the E.R. staff by face and name as well as the hospital floor plan. A muffled voice on the loudspeaker called, "mmlmlf , please return to Radiology."

"My god, I am the worst husband in the world! Something happened to her!" Panic ensued and a hospital staff inquired, "Do you need help?"

"I need to get back to Radiology!"

She guided me to Radiology but it was not the same Radiology room as the one I was previously waiting within. Frustrated, I sought the hidden room once again. Further mumbled voices, "...return to Radiology."

Again, a nurse sensing panic upon my face offered her assistance. I accepted with a better description, or so I thought. "I'm looking for Radiology...you know... the one with a waiting room with nice big leather chairs and a flat screen television...it's right near where you come in." Once again, I'm guided back to the Radiology room with institutional looking hospital furniture and out-dated , magazines.

"Crap! Don't these people understand? My wife is dying and I need to get back to her. How could I have walked-off in search of food to satisfy my immediate needs? I'm such a stereotypical guy who rather eat a pizza in times of crisis." I thought to myself but then further explained to the nurse, "This is not the right Radiology Room, and clearly added,"...you know, the one with nice leather chairs." Surely with this concise description, she should understand -- I also used hand gestures for emphasis. Strangely, my Italian hand gestures paid-off as she then guided me back through corridors with self-locking doors; back through the elevated ped-way; and to the nicely appointed waiting room with leather chairs.

"Oh my, Mr. X," a stunned nurse said who recognized me from previous inquiries about procedures,timing and as to whether there was an cafeteria nearby, " I should have told you. This is just a pre-op stop and they insert the wire, then walk her over to surgery. I'm afraid she already left."

"Could you please guide to the room, because for the last twenty to thirty minutes, I've been lost." Back through self-locking doors and across the ped-way, through various corridors we walked, then back outside to another building. "This is odd? Why don't have the operating and radiology nearby?" I thought. My cell phone rings and it is Karen.

"Where are you?" Her voice cracks with obvious tears.

"They're escorting me over because I've been lost for the past hour our so." I stated. "Oh, I can see you in the waiting room. I'll be there in a minute." With my latte in one hand, I wipe my mouth feeling the grease surrounding my lips.

"If she kisses me, I wonder if she'll know I was eating something? I wonder if my breath smells like onions? Oh, she'll kill me."

Entering the waiting room, despite the tears, I thought she looked great for someone who just had been operated upon. "Wow, you look good! How did it go?"

"I haven't had the surgery yet."

"Oh," I said, then reached for excuses,"I just went for coffee and become lost. They had to escort me back to Radiology, then here."

"Did you get something to eat?"

Trying to redirect the subject, I sipped from the white chocolate latte with caramel and made a purring "delicious!" remark. "Boy, I bet you would like one of these delicious lattes -- white chocolate and caramel, you know." Yea, I'm a jerk because she has eaten anything in nearly sixteen hours per the Doctors orders. She laughed.

"Did you get anything to eat, though?"

Might as well fess-up as she surely smells hospital food upon me as her sense of smell is probably keenly aware of any crumb left upon a Christmas tray behind the nurses counter.

"Just lie - a little lie won't hurt anything. Why does she have to know? Be the GOOD husband who cares about her. How would it sound if you thought about your stomach first while she is having MAJOR surgery with potential life altering outcomes?" The devilish voice within persuasively whispered.

As if I were naked and strapped to a metal cot attached to a car battery, I told everything in a desperately pathetic, boyish voice. "I started only to get coffee, because there wasn't any in the waiting room but I first asked the nurse about the procedures and how long it would take...they said surgery followed after radiology...I had time, so I thought...I found the cafeteria and grabbed a coffee but saw the pizza sign...but it was closed...as I was exiting, I saw a burrito in the refrigerated section...it was cold but I was hungry (recalling the hot burrito of f the grill and how good it was and I may be back to the cafeteria before going to work)...then I got lost -- twice..."

Soon, it was Karen's turn for surgery and I was able to sit with her in a pre-op, surgical waiting room where she sat with an I.V. Eventually, I met the doctors and nurses who then carted her off under sedation -- wow, was she loopy!

With my latte finished and sitting in the waiting room, I recalled passing a Starbucks on the way over. "I could run -over and grab another delicious chocolate latte with whip cream this time and she wouldn't even notice... in fact, she'll be out of her mind for the next hour or so," I thought but decided else-wise.

After an hour and some minutes, the doctor appeared assuring me the procedure went well and the cyst appears benign, however we have to wait for the lab results on Friday to be 100%.

Retuning to the post-op room, I helped her dress then promised her an ice cream on the way home -- as I recollected the treat my mother would provide after visiting the doctor. Karen was much relieved after the diagnosis but I was exhausted -- mentally. With ice cream in hand and rented movies, I fell asleep upon the bed while she watched the movies.

Tonight, I hope to get some sleep as this portion of drama is nearly over, however, while in the waiting room I read a magazine article about a morning talk show anchor who went in for a biopsy received the "thumbs-up" from her family that the cyst the doctor removed from her was benign, instead, two days later, she received a phone call that the cyst was actually malignant. I won't share this story with Karen -- somethings are better left unsaid.

Yesterday - Tomorrow