Dear Readers
Cath is back in the hospital for another few days because she developed an infection post-surgery. This is rare. Our surgeon told us this happens to 1% of his patients.
I also had an infection after my endometriosis surgery.
Rare, you say?
This is what I think:
1) We’re totally ruining our doctor’s percentages. (Now he has to tell patients, “it’s less than 1% likely you’ll have to come back — unless, of course, you count this set of twins I operated on — but they’re an anomaly already so don’t count them!”)
2) We are totalllllly identical. In all things apparently. Lucky duckies!
Getting an infection is no fun. Nobody wants to spend more time in a hospital than they need to. It’s scary to have to run tests and go under anesthesia again for them to drain an abscess and then to be put on the Hulk of antibiotics.
At the moment Cath is feeling pretty miserable because the antibiotics make her nauseated all the time, but the pain meds help her to doze on and off, which is good. She’ll be on these mega-antibiotics for a couple more weeks post-hospital stay. And though she’ll feel pretty miserable, her body will be healing. It will feel like eternity to her, but by Valentine’s Day she’ll be swilling champagne and chocolate to her hearts content. I’ll make sure of it!
Well, that’s the other thing. It’s sucky to be identical because I know what she is going through and I’m absolutely no help because I’m 5,000 miles across an ocean. We’ve Face-timed and texted but it is not the same as sitting with her all night and holding her hand. When she feels so terrible and tired and scared, I wish so very badly I could be there to cool her forehead and murmur that everything will be okay and this too shall end. And that everything she feels (all the things she doesn’t want to feel but has to) is normal. And it’s all okay even when it doesn’t feel okay and feels interminable.
In the near future I won’t live quite so far away from Cath and then we can be identical together together, not just together via the great interwebs. I’ll swig bubbly with her and we can reminisce about how we used to live in separate countries. Separate continents even.
(If you’re in between bouts of nausea and can read this, Cath, love you so so so much and can’t wait until we’re on the same land mass again)
