The Best Medicine

Let's just say that for a fairly simple surgery, there sure was a lot of morphine handed out afterwards.

Vern's final surgery, while successful in the end, did not start out or end up too smoothly. He was so dehydrated that they simply could not get a vein for his IV. It was pretty excruciating to watch and much more so, I'm sure, for him to go through.

They wheeled him away to surgery and shuffled me off to the waiting room . . . and then played the hurry up and wait game while an emergency or two took control of the operating rooms. The surgery itself was delayed over two and a half hours.

He was moved into the intensive care unit after surgery both because of the late hour and also because of his pain level. I think there may be a nurse or two there that learned a few new words tonight, and we may owe the hospital some money for the destruction of some of their furniture. They finally got Vern under control by shooting him full of morphine. Four doses of it later and he was purring like a kitten.

And then they sent him home for me to deal with.

But the good news is that the damn stone is gone. Gone, gone, gone. Or at least as much of it is going to go. He has one final procedure to remove some hardware that will take place in the doctor's office in a couple of weeks and then he will be on the road to recovery.

It's been a rocky road, a bumpy ride, and an expensive trip.

Just like the toll roads in Illinois.