surgery sucks

Today sucked. We got there at 8 for an alleged outpatient surgery. They told me it was outpatient when we got there - I had expected him to spend the night. At 9 they told me that he'd be a couple of hours, and I could visit him in recovery at 11. They gave me a little pager, like they have at restaurants, so I'd know as soon as he was ready for me.

At 1:30 I asked what was going on, and after the guy at the outpatient lobby desk called a few people, I was informed that DH was still in recovery and was being admitted. They took my pager and sent me to the main lobby, told me to check in there and wait for the doctor.

So I checked in at the main lobby, they gave me a number and told me they'd call it as soon as they had any information for me, and I sat down, understandably concerned. Okay, concerned is putting it lightly. I freaked out. I mean, a doctor hadn't even spoken with me at this point, and it was several hours later than they'd said I could expect it to be. But I held it together until a could call a friend to talk me down. By now it was 2:30, and I ventured to get something to eat. Not far, and I checked at the desk before I left and when I came back, a span of five minutes, tops.

At 3:30, I grew worried and upset enough that I went back to the desk. Where they informed me that he'd been sent to his room at 1:30! WTF?! I was so upset, but more interested in getting to him than in tearing someone a new asshole.

Man, he did not look good. He was asleep, sitting up, head cocked to the side and mouth open. Big bandage taped to his nose and an IV in his arm, two black eyes. I was so relieved to see him, I started crying again. Of course that's when he woke up, and I didn't want him to think something had gone wrong so I explained that I had "just" been worried and was glad to see him.

No one seems to know what happened. I talked to the nurse, politely since it wasn't her fault, and told her that someone, somewhere, needed to be told not to keep a pregnant woman waiting for hours while her husband was in surgery. She was very sympathetic, but no one seems to know where the line of communcation failed. My job at that point, however, was not to track down someone to yell at. DH had been asking for me for hours, and I felt just awful for not being there. He thought I'd left. I told him I hadn't set foot outside the hospital, and was checking on him every hour.

So he's staying overnight, as I originally thought. Everything's fine, but they want to give him the good stuff for pain, so they're keeping him on an IV and a morphine drip. He managed to choke down half a jello and a lemon ice, then the morphine hit and he was out. I sat there for a few hours, just glad he was okay and being at peace just being with him.

As for last night, the silence lasted a couple of hours. I was damned if I was going to be the one to break it. He finally got sick of it, came out to the living room where I was standing at the door tyring to get our stupid cat to come inside, and just grabbed me in a hug. Of course I just burst into tears, and we had a good talk. We never fight for long, when we fight at all. But I hate it all the same, and I'm usually ready to make up quickly. I hate being out of communion with him.

Tonight I will go to bed early, exhausted from the day. It's strange how sitting still all day can be so draining. Emotions will do that, every time. I go back early tomorrow to wait in his room to take him home. I'm not waiting for them to tell me when to come back, I'm going back first thing. And if they lose him on me again, I'm tearing the place apart until I find the jackass responsible.

Oh. And the doctor still never made an appearance. I am not impressed.