how it feels on the other side of the medical procedure

I seem to have usurped all the attention and sympathy over the past few months by always being the one driven to medical procedures and other torture sessions some hospital staff are so brilliant at doling out; Hubby is the one watching and trying to hide his worry while I’m lying on the gurney or hospital bed. Today he was on the examining table–this time inย  the doctor’s office rather than an OR in a hospital because scheduling was faster and the procedure far less expensive–having the doctor and his assistant prep him for a surgical procedure he’s been putting off for a long time.

I was the one sitting in the chair fixing my eyes on his face rather than the scapel in the doctor’s hands. I watched his eyes get bigger and bigger (I suspect he was a teeny bit worried that the local anesthetic might not hold long enough or be strong enough) and hear the small gasp when the syringe with the solution sank into the palm of his hand.

For the past several months, he’s been putting up with a “trigger finger” which, just as it sounds, means his finger sometimes draws up into a trigger motion as if he’s about to shoot a gun. It’s painful, and it didn’t go back easily into the normal position. In the beginning it happened once in awhile, then more often, and was especially annoying as it woke him up at night. He went through the same thing with another finger about a year ago and realized the only answer was the surgery, but driving me to the hospital–sometimes daily–to keep appointments and wait for me (often in the room watching as often as allowed) meant that he had to put off his procedure until we were at the point where I could count on being well enough to be able to drive him home and watch out for him–instead of the other way around.

Not surprisingly, I learned that, in spite of all the terrible things I’ve gone through since February, it’s harder being the one sitting in the chair watching and not being able to do anything to help. At least I grunt when something hurts me, okay sometimes I groan and once in awhile tears trail from the corners of my eyes, but Hubby doesn’t. So even when he says he’s fine, I can never be sure if he’s just being stoic for me.

Now we’re back home, and the double dose of anesthetic seems to be holding on (the doc had to administer a stronger potion than used for most) and he’s content to lie back in his easy chair watching television. I’m feeling as close to normal as I remember it to be, and hoping I’ll be up to whatever nursing or soothing I may be called on to administer in the days to come. I hope I’m up to it. I know I can change bandages and carry water and pain pills. Maybe I’ll need a little time adjusting to being the watcher instead of the afflicted.

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10 thoughts on “how it feels on the other side of the medical procedure

  1. Together in pain, together in sadness, together is fear, together in joy – what a joy it is to share life with the one you love! He is very lucky as are you! My wishes for a speedy recovery and that in a few short weeks you will be well on your way to complete health, pain free! God bless you both!

  2. Good to hear from you Alice! Yes, it is harder to be the one in the chair watching and helpless. Thankfully you have each other to share the ups and downs. I am hoping you are both now on the upward journey and leaving the dark days of worry and stress behind you.

    Please pass on best wishes to hubby from all his fans this side of the blog.

  3. I’m sorry to hear about his trigger finger. It sounds pretty painful. He was a real trooper to keep the blog up with a bad finger. I hope it heals quickly. Glad to hear you are feeling better. You both need to just take it easy now while you mend.

  4. Hi A & P, sorry to hear about the trigger finger. Is it on both hands or just one? How long will the convalescing be? Hope you are having a lovely spring so you can sit out in the sunshine and get well.

  5. I’m so sorry. I understand tho having this in both hands. He will really appreciate having it done, and you will be a good watcher and gofer. You two are wonderful for each other. ๐Ÿ™‚

  6. An old joke popped into my mind. “Doctor, will I be able to play the piano after this hand surgery?” asked the anxious patient. “Why certainly,” replied the doctor. “Great,” said the patient, “because I was never able to play before.”

    Glad to hear that the surgery was successful. Tune up the piano.

  7. I’m glad to hear you are on the other side. I’ve been running around and not had much computer time but I’m finally caught up and wanted to say a BIG thank you to Hubby for all the updates and a big virtual chocolate mousse cake for you. Well, you two can share, I guess. Just don’t let the grandchildren eat it all!

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