All went well; the surgery for the final implants is less of an insult to the body; the damage has already been done. As far as her body is concerned, the additional damage amounted to two deep cuts.
She fell in love with the anesthesiologist; plans to send him a declaration of her undying devotion. You see, he listened to her; tried a new combination of drugs - and she came out of the operating room not at all nauseous. A welcome and major change from her first surgery last February.
As we had before, we went down the day before surgery for her pre-op appointments. We were done there by two, so had a marvelous late lunch and indulged in some retail therapy to distract ourselves. Kate hit the wall just after we got to the hotel to check in; she's been fighting what she calls the Great Fatigue of 2015 for the past few weeks. (Sleeping twelve hours at night and another three during the afternoon. It seemed a bit extreme, so she went in for bloodwork last week. All came back as good, so we decided it was her body's way of healing.) Since she was so tired, instead of going out to dinner, we stayed at the hotel and enjoyed their complimentary soup for dinner. It was canned minestrone, but we weren't complaining. It was hot.
About halfway through dinner, winter decided to make an appearance. The temperature dropped from the upper fifties to the upper thirties in just a few minutes, accompanied by strong winds and cold rain. At that point, the soup tasted a whole lot better - the fact I was there eating it meant I didn't have to face the storm.
The rain had abated by morning, but the wind was still fierce. Hers was the second surgery of the day; we didn't have to be to the hospital until 8, which gave us time for coffee on the way in. (They let her have black coffee the morning of the surgery. I didn't get coffee on surgery days - not fair!) The routine was familiar - check in, wait for a couple of hours, they take her away, wait for more hours, she comes back.all groggy and sore.
Only this time, there were no tubes, there was no sense of loss. In its place was a sense of completion. This surgery is the last piece of her active treatment; she's more than ready to close out this chapter of her life. Now, finally, she can finish healing and move on.