I am a born and raised Floridian (yes I am a rare breed). This means I have experienced my shar  of hurricanes. The strongest part of the storm is preceded by the outer rain bands. I believe those rain bands are a good analogy of the first heart catheterization – a foreshadowing that there was a much stronger storm ahead.

Monday October 1st found us on our way to Flagler hospital in St Augustine for the second and more extensive heart catheterization. Thankfully, a friend had offered to drive – we definitely didn’t want a repeat of the flat tire incident. Once Harold was wheeled back for the procedure, we grabbed a quick lunch and went back to the room, expecting to wait awhile. However it wasn’t much longer that he was brought back to the room. Shortly after the doctor started the procedure he could tell that stents were not an option. And, not only was surgery the next step, it was going to be a quadruple bypass. I think the “storm” was about to make landfall.

There’s a song called “In the Eye of the Storm” by Ryan Stephenson. The chorus is:

In the eye of the storm (yeah, yeah)
You remain in control (yes you do, Lord)
In the middle of the war, You guard my soul
You alone are the anchor, when my sails are torn
Your love surrounds me (Your love surrounds me)
In the eye of the storm (in the eye of the storm)

If it had not been for my choice to hold onto my faith and cling to the peace I had been promised, the “storm” could have carried me away – not unlike the storm surge that can be a deadly part of a hurricane. I didn’t “freak out” at the prospect of surgery – even one as major as this. Did I have questions – definitely. Have they all been answered yet – nope. Did I have concerns – oh yeah. The “finance factor” (medical bills, time off work, etc) alone was a major concern. I still didn’t know how I was going to handle having to change dressings, etc if needed. I was even concerned how we were going to handle our 18 year old cat who’s nightly routine involves laying on Harold’s chest and burying her head in it. But amidst all the questions, concerns, etc – there was peace. There was a calm among the chaos.

For insurance purposes, and to allow the doctors to run all the necessary tests needed prior to surgery, Harold would not be going home that day. In fact, he would not be going home until five- seven days after the surgery which was scheduled for two days later. I told myself to think of it as just another business trip as I prepared to spend the next week “home alone”.

Tuesday was a day of preparation – for both of us. For him, it meant lots of tests. For me it meant trying to take care of things like cancelling appointments, finding someone to check in on the cats while I was at the hospital and even making sure the trash was out before heading to the hospital. For both of us, it meant trying to get as informed as possible for what lay ahead. Thankfully the surgical nurse came in and shared a lot of info as to what to expect both during and after surgery (not so easy for this “squeamish” girl). Side note: when she came into the room, she asked “so who’s here for the sex change”. Without hesitation Harold responded that it must be him since they had shaved his legs. When told that patients were normally released five to seven days after surgery, my “over-achiever” said he was shooting for three.

Before I left, his Human Resource supervisor, who lives in St Augustine, brought by a “care package”. Too bad he only got to enjoy a few items before his midnight fasting deadline. And, since I had to take everything home as he most likely end up in a different room after the surgery, guess what my dinner was.

Truth be told, part of me wanted to stay the night, to spend as much time as I could with him. But, he needed his rest and there were three little kitties waiting for me. Since he was scheduled to be the first surgery, it was going to be an early morning for both of us. So, with hesitation, I made the drive home – a drive that would be my daily ritual until he was released.