Peter, had his annual, bi-annual surgery for his teeth cleaning. I do remember now, I skipped this event last year reconciling that he really did not need to have this done, which in reality was most likely, I do not need this, I do not want to do it!
This year, I knew I could not go into denial, the surgery needed to be done. The plan went into place. Last week the hospital called on a daily basis...the Operating Room head nurse, the Admission's office, anesthesia, security. They all know Pete well, so they had all their eggs in a basket, they had crossed their "T"s and dotted their "I's. No stoned left unturned, all tests in place, all drugs ordered, security on alert, they even were going to shut down part of the floor so Peter would not be intimidated. I gathered comfort in knowing that piece would be handled well. However, my part, actually getting him there loomed like a huge daunting task. How would I get him there? Used the police in the past and that was not option, Wilson...no, I am thinking. I will come up with a plan, and than the rest is in God's hands.
The day approached, hush was the word on surgery. I made plans to stay an hour away so I could spend my time driving to the hospital so Peter could be distracted. Early in the morning, off we went for the hospital, pouring rain, and I am thinking good, I can drive really slow, waste more time. Only the unexpected happened, and Peter had major diarrhea. Thank you God for Truck Stops. After a rather large cleaning event, we moved onward, and once I reached the city limits, I mentioned the "hospital' word, the agitation began, and did not stop. I continued to drive and ignore the loud verbal laments about not going, and we eventually ended up at the back of the hospital. The plan was to take Peter in the shortest way, avoiding the lobby, and get right to the dreaded surgical unit. Meeting us at the back door were two security guards with idea of swiftly whisking Peter to the floor. Not so swiftly, and with much convincing, we made it the second floor only to be met by Curtis the security guard, who came in on his day off to meet Peter. And than the fun began! Seeing Curtis must have reminded Peter of past experiences, so at this point, Peter announced his intention that he would not participate and the Mexican standoff began. This standoff lasted one painfully long hour with 5 security guards, a plethora of nurses and I, of course, trying to convince Peter to at least go into the room. Peter, having nothing to do with that idea, closed down one wing of the hospital. My only prayer...God, do not let him escape! Curtis did a great job by standing in front of the elevator buttons. It was only when the the anesthesiologist and crew captured him in the hallway, gave a quick sedative via his arm did he relax...mmmm, I wonder why. Becoming a bit catatonic, off he went into the Operating Room. Relief...the hardest part was over.
Thia is an experience I dread. A why cannot this be easier resounds in my soul. Feeling very sorry for Peter as he must be in dread, but also knowing this must be done. I never really knowing if he will really make it into the hospital, and now, most grateful when it is done. The hospital staff did a phenomenal job and made an awful experience as good as it could be. The amount of caring by those individuals was awesome!
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