About nine months ago, my handsome husband had an emergency appendectomy. The skilled surgeon cut an eight inch incision all the way down his abdomen. After a six week recovery period, Chris returned to work, and life continued as normal.
Last night I picked Chris and Chandler up from the airport around midnight. We woke up at 6:00 a.m. and headed back to Denton Regional Hospital for round two with Dr. Lester. This time he was repairing a ventricle hernia which had perforated the muscle tissue lining my man's belly. Once again they put Chris under, and when he woke up this time, groggy and befuddled, the gash in his stomach stretched about three inches. When he coughed or laughed, he grimaced in pain, and I desperately wanted to remove the discomfort.
Thankfully, the second act did not require an over night hospital stay, and since spring break has officially begun, I plan to head to bed early tonight. Familiarity is usually a great thing, but I'm not too keen on hospital waiting rooms, and I'd prefer to avoid a third act that includes anesthesiologist, trips to the pharmacy, and a hunched over husband who struggles to maneuver the mountain of stairs leading to our apartment.
Before I met and married my husband, I spent the first ten years of my adult life as a single woman. I was lonely, insecure, and hungry for companionship. When Chris came along, I knew I'd found a rare treasure. Walking through these medical experiences together strengthens our relationship, and I am grateful to be his wife.