My sweetheart, Mark, took control Monday, loaded things into his pride-and-joy Jag and we headed into San Francisco, jazz classics streaming through the evening air, ready for Tuesday’s early pre-op visits and Wednesday’s even-earlier surgery.
Mark is the only man I’ve ever had a relationship with that I can describe as a mature, whole man (I’ll admit here I’ve had more-than-my-share of relationships) . First and foremost, Mark is a golfer, professional golfer, spent his entire life playing and working in the sport.. He approached this “keep-Meta-occupied” project like he does an important and precarious seven foot putt, calmly, studying pulling the putter out of the bag, stroking it, breathing deeply seeming totally in control to the outside world, (who knows what is going on inside?). He decides the line, does his little pre-putt-dance and, swings. In the hole, or close.
Now, Mark does have his “golf moments” like the time a drunk-foursome behind us didn’t think we were moving fast enough so hit into me, ball bouncing a few feet away from my head. He picked up the ball and threw it over a stand of trees into the adjacent fairway, turned around and continued play. So, don’t mess with the man. There are rules and they are to be followed.
I still feel like I’m entering a movie set when approaching the Golden Gate Bridge. Monday evening the skyline and bridge sparkled with crystal lights, no fog, and no clouds, unbelievable. Mark drove me around his hometown and treated me to a huge Italian dinner. It was easy to sleep full of carbs and a little Cabernet.
We were up early, doing the series of UCSF meetings and required tests. I had lists of questions and took copious notes, then spent the rest of the sunny, beautiful day sightseeing. The DE Young Art Museum was in between exhibits. We almost had the place to ourselves. We watched the crew moving several tons of ancient Mexican Mayan artifacts indoors. (hard to imagine this kind of stuff is hauled all over the world just so we peasants can see it.) Then we visited an excellent exhibit at the Legion of Honor, “Pulp Fashion.” An enormous, eye-boggling display of historic costumes by Finish paper artist Isabelle de Borchgrave. I could have stayed for hours but it was more a “girl thing” and Mark had even more plans. The tulips were beginning to bloom at the Golden Gate Park Windmills (see photo). I stuck to soups and salads not wanting to “gum up the works” any more than necessary. After a Thai food dinner I did get some sleep and then we were off for the BIG DAY.
Just putting each foot in front of the other took all the courage I had. I was okay with the idea of dying, I wouldn't know, would just go to sleep and not wake up here. But, the thoughts of severe pain, not hearing, not walking, being paralyzed, and other handicap visions loomed behind each deep breath I forced into my lungs. I tried to appear in control but inside I was a wimp, a real coward. Like John Wayne said, "Courage is saddlein' up even when you are afraid." Thousands of people go through this medical drill and much worse each day, but when it’s you, I guarantee it is not easy.
I did as I was told like a trusting child. Lining up for surgery in the waiting room was a bit like a cattle call but it was organized and the admissions folks did all they could do to put the crowd at ease ….. (Moooooooo).
Once in my cubicle, I snapped on the cotton printed gown and got stuck here and there with tubes. The medical staff at UCSF was excellent and kept patients comfortable in spite of all the strange comings and goings. My teams of surgeons visited, again reassuring and calmly excited.
The last things I remember were lying on the gurney wheeling down the hall just like in my dream, but with no Richard Gere – darn! Where is the man when you need him? However, the anesthesiologist, Chris, was played by natural beauty Lindsey Lohan back-before-her-downfall .
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