My son had his surgery last Thursday. It was a long and tedious day, which, of course, he slept through. When my best friend came to pick Trevor and I up, she noticed that his bed was a “Big Wheel.” Little boys just cannot get away from their toys, even when they grow up.
I wasn’t as lucky to get to sleep through all the stress and worry of why his surgery was taking twice as long as scheduled (so much extra damage) or why his surgeon didn’t immediately come talk to me after the surgery was over. Trevor was in recovery almost an hour before his surgeon finally came to speak to me because he had been immediately called away to the emergency department to consult on another patient. I understood once it was explained to me, but it did nothing to relieve my overwhelming anxiety beforehand.
Trevor is now home and faring well. He has a high pain threshold, which he probably gets from me. If my hubby is any indication how most men handle pain, then Trevor is a rare bird, indeed. Ken doesn’t do well at all with pain, but I can’t fault him for that. We all have different set points and tolerances. I don’t like pain, either, but I have learned to deal with it.
The pain I most abhor is migraine pain. And yesterday was a migraine day.
But my guys came through for me in spades.
Trevor’s best friend, William, whom I also count among “my guys,” has been here since the day after Trevor’s surgery. He has been a huge help, stepping in where Trevor cannot right now by helping me mop the floors after the plumber was here. (We had our plumbing back up—again.) And he has also helped out with dishes and laundry and garbage. What a guy! He’s also great at providing comic relief, in trying to get me to laugh despite my migraine.
Despite his back and hip being messed up lately (plus still recovering from shoulder surgery, himself), Ken has been doing his best to help out as well. In fact, for last night’s dinner, he pulled homemade paella out of thin air! It was amazing, much better than my homemade soup the day before, though my guys are so good they wouldn’t admit my soup wasn’t that great even if threatened with torture.
The best thing my guys did for me, however, was to play cards all afternoon and evening, with the television off, so that I could rest. Silence in the house makes for such a nicer me the day after a bad migraine. I just love my guys, all three.
And a special thank you to my best friend, who has unwittingly become my hospital chauffer lately. I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you!