I'm hanging out in the hospital with my dad today. This is his second surgery within a month, and we'll have two more to go after this. He's had some challenges with his eyes, and these four surgeries will clear that all up. (How many bad eye puns can I come up with without even trying?) None of the surgeries are very serious, and all of them are out-patient stints at the surgery center of the hospital, so I am very glad it isn't more intensive.
Still, it takes all of my day, plus most of the next couple of days to care for him. Not that it's totally a bad thing. I get a couple of hours to myself in the hospital, where I can read any book I want to. Without interruptions. That is, if you don't count clanging hospital beds and constant foot traffic and the ever-present murmur of conversations that I try not to listen to and sometimes succeed. But at least not the demanding Mom kind of interruptions.
I really don't like hospitals. I think I went to way too many of them with Jay and his cancer. They are just so sterile and cold, all paper and metal and matter-of-factly clinical when I'd rather have soft and warm and home. That, and the specter of hurt and illness and what-if is always lurking about.
It's amazing, isn't it, what modern medical technology can do? Without these surgeries, he would be relegated to slowly losing his eyesight, then blindness. But now, everything can be restored. It's impressive, especially since I would so hate to lose my vision.
The procedure went well, just as they thought it would. The waiting room was cold and noisy, just as I though it would be. Dad's got a patch over his left eye, even though he was sure we should be working on his right eye this time (he got the right eye done last time).
We'll wait for him to come out of groggy, eat a little to make sure his stomach isn't queasy, and get dressed in non-disposable clothing. After that, we'll be on our way back home.