I am sitting here listening to the operative nurse remind us not to use cell phones or eat in here. (They had a “crawlie” issue in here about a month ago. Ewww.) She’s also reading out the names of the families who will be moving into the post-op area.
Us, we’ve got a while. My husband went in about 30 minutes ago. We’ve probably got an hour before he’s out of surgery. His fourth in 15 months.
My father-in-law brought him in this morning on the train. I drove in after my mom arrived to watch the girls. I sat in traffic for two hours. I have no idea how or why anyone would drive into Manhattan from Long Island.
The trip gave me plenty of time to think. About how nervous I am. About how much I love my husband. About how I couldn’t see life without him. He is my best friend and probably the best person I know.
I made it here before they took him in to the OR. I rubbed his head and kissed him. When the nurse came to get him I stopped her and told her that she should be very careful with him. That he has two little girls waiting for him at home. I should have said that she was taking the largest part of my heart into that room. And that I needed him. But I am always afraid to jinx myself.
And so we wait…