All manner of nurses and orderlies were in my room starting at 5am to prep me for surgery. I was already hooked up to an IV, but they started a heart monitor and spent about 15 minutes connecting me to machines and poking me with needles until they declared I was ready to be taken to the OR. I just thought about home as I tried to be a good patient. I didn’t want Nikki to see me freaking out, either. I kept telling myself it would all be over soon. She didn’t say anything as she watched the activity.
The worst part was rolling down the hallway, looking at the lights going by. What if hospital fluorescents were the last thing I ever saw? What if I never got to see my wife again, or Everette or my family? Someone had to be around to make sure Zac and Taylor were ok. I wasn’t as close with our other siblings as I would like to be. It’s just that when the band took off, everything happened so fast and it took hard work to keep it going and keep it together. When we went independent, they all gave their time to helping us keep the business going, even though they all had other interests. I needed time to show them that I appreciated their efforts. I had to get through this so I could be a better big brother.
“Dr. Grimsley is ready for him,” someone said as we approached the doors of the OR. He held the doors open for the gurney and the fluorescents were replaced by bright operating room lights.
“Okay, Clarke, let’s get those clots out of your lungs. My associate Dr. Peters is going to help you fall asleep and this will all be over before you know it.”
“Alright,” my voice came out hoarse. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Peters inject something into my IV line. The anesthetic stung when it hit my veins and I clenched my hand into a fist, which made the IV needle dig in even deeper.
“Just relax,” he said. “Start counting backward from 100.”
I don’t remember anything past 95.
When I woke up, I wasn’t sure where I was. Nikki was holding my hand, but this wasn’t home. I saw the bandage on my arm and was able to muddle through the fog enough to remember the last few days.
“Hey, babe,” I said, my throat dry and scratchy.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“It’s hard to keep my eyes open. What time is it?”
“Just a little past noon. The doctor said you would probably be groggy the rest of the day until the anesthesia wears completely off.”
“It’s like the worst hangover I’ve ever had.”
“I can go see if they will let you have Gatorade. There is some in the vending machine down the hall.”
“That sounds good. I am pretty thirsty.”
“I’ll be right back. Just rest,” she said.
It was dark the next time I woke up. Nikki was asleep on the couch. The bedside clock said 2:30 AM and my arm was throbbing under the bandage. It seems I just traded one pain for another. An unopened bottle of Gatorade was by the bed.
I didn’t want to wake up Nikki by calling the nurse, I knew she had been awake most of the day and she needed her sleep, so I could just deal with the pain until the morning. I lay there in the dark, listening to the machines beep and thinking off all the things I wanted to do when I got out of here, and wondering how much I could do until my arm healed. I would have to be able to play guitar, that much was certain.
When that didn’t work, I tried the trick Dr. Peters used. I counted backward from 100 3 times before I gave up. Then, I tried meditation – the trick where you are supposed to relax every muscle in your body one by one. I wondered if Taylor was awake. I reached for my phone, but of course the battery was dead, it hadn’t been charged in 2 days.
I decided to just close my eyes and be still until Nikki woke up.