Hospital Stays

We’ve had a rough couple of weeks in our household, and things are just now returning to normal. Once again, my husband had a surgery that went well and a recovery that didn’t. Honestly, he’s spent so much time in a hospital lately that I seriously considered hauling in his favorite recliner chair and repainting the walls of the room his favorite color. I figured if he had to be stuck for so long in a hospital room, we may as well make it nice. Luckily, he was released before I gave in to the urge to redecorate his surroundings and now he’s back home where he belongs.

I’ve always found that when difficult times arrive, I spend all my time and energy just coping, and don’t really “process” what’s happened until later. But now that things have finally calmed down, I find myself looking back over the past few weeks and realizing one very important thing: there is no way in the world I would have managed without the amazing support of so many caring people.

Hospitals have always been scary places for me (I tend to faint at the sight of blood), but I found out they’re even scarier when the patient is your loved one and and they aren’t doing so well. And you know what helped me deal with that fear? The nursing staff who were unfailingly cheerful and attentive, and who always took the time to reassure me when I needed it. Being an advocate for a patient in a hospital is exhausting, both physically and emotionally, but seeing how good the nurses were at caring for my husband made it so much easier to bear.

I’m also incredibly thankful for the many friends and relatives who took the time to call and text, keeping track of my husband’s progress and offering nonstop encouragement and support. There were times when those texts were the lifeline I needed to stay (or at least try to appear) calm and strong, and other times when they provided relief from the boredom of sitting in a hospital room day after day, or gave me a much-needed laugh. Friends and family are gifts, and you never realize just how much of a gift until you’re in a tough spot and they’re right there with you every step of the way.

It was also a gift to see so many people reaching out to my husband in his time of need. He had more people praying for him than I could possibly count. Cards arrived almost daily, some from college friends he hasn’t seen in decades, and all of them helped raise his spirits. One of his old friends sent him personalized copies of the books he’d written about his own battle with cancer, and the tips for staying positive helped enormously. Frankly, my husband isn’t usually much for reading, but he not only read those books, he took one of them with him when he was readmitted to the hospital and read from it daily.

This post is more personal than what I usually write, and I hope I haven’t overdone the detail. But the reason I’m sharing it is simple. The next time someone you know is going through a tough time, please reach out and offer them your support. Don’t let fear of intruding or “being a pest” stop you. Because even if they don’t have time to acknowledge it or respond to you, your care and concern will mean the world to them. Trust me, it really will.

I’ve never been a patient person. Waiting is not my strong point, no matter what I happen to be waiting for. If I’m looking forward to something good, then I want it to happen right now, this very second. Even if I’m dreading something, I’d much rather just hurry up and get it over with, sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, there are times in my life where I don’t really have a choice, and I find myself having to wait with as much patience as I possibly can.

A few weeks ago, my husband had a scheduled surgery that was supposed to result in a three to five-day hospital stay. The surgery went well, but his recovery didn’t, and he ended up spending over ten days in the hospital due to minor complications. I wish I could say that I always handled the situation with patience and grace, but that would be a lie. What I actually did was worry a lot, feel sorry for myself and even sorrier for my husband, and in general wake up each morning thinking, “PLEASE let today be the day that he finally gets to come home.”

It was a long ten days, but I did learn a few things about myself in the process, not the least of which is that I would make a truly awful nurse. I’ve always been a bit of a klutz, but repeatedly tripping over various tubes that are actually connected to a patient is never a good thing, and neither is forgetting to unhook the IV pole before helping him go for a walk in the hallway. Also, it’s a good idea to wind the chord of the nurse call button around the bed railings, because otherwise it falls off the bed every time you adjust the blankets…and then you have to keep telling the nurse station that you didn’t really mean to call them.

Luckily, I also learned some more useful lessons during my husband’s recovery, and the main one was that when I have no choice, I really can manage to wait patiently for things to get better. Although I’ve always been nervous in hospitals (I never even like visiting a patient), I actually became accustomed to the routine and stopped having to look away from any procedure that involved blood or other body fluids. I spent hours sitting quietly in the corner, reading a book while my husband slept, and actually became quite friendly with some of the nurses. It’s amazing what we can endure when we have to, and I do think it helps to be reminded of that from time to time.

Of course I would have much rather my husband’s hospital stay hadn’t lasted quite so long, and to have spared him that trauma and both of us that worry. But I like to think that the next time I’m waiting for something I desperately want right now, that I’ll remember there’s a reserve of strength and patience in each of us, just waiting for us to tap into it. And that when we do, we’ll have everything we we need to tide us over until the hard times are over….