Ron had kidney stone surgery two days ago.
The surgery was planned for a few weeks, and Ron will be deeply relieved to be rid of his kidney stone pain.
But the hospital process is a tiring, anxiety-provoking experience in itself. Mind you... the doctors are brilliant, the nurses kind and superbly capable, and the support staff pleasant and helpful.
But the longer-than-expected surgery, excruciating waits, interrupted sleep, hospital and drug protocols, and of course, the endless tests: blood tests, blood pressure readings, temperature taking, and because he's diabetic, blood sugar monitoring. He's connected to tubes and drips, needles and flashing, beeping monitors.
My heart breaks for him, as I wear a cheerful smile and positive spirit. He's tired and hurts. And I love him.
A one-night stay evolved into two nights due to inflammation between his kidneys and bladder which impeded the flow of liquids. A catheter was inserted last night between the two, and he feels horribly uncomfortable today.
This morning, the doctor promised he's come home today, but we await word when radiology can schedule removal of a shunt. And we quietly fear that, like yesterday, the procedure won't occur until the evening shift.
And we worry that two nights will become three.
And I wonder if this supposedly innocuous surgery has done damage to his kidneys.
And I love him and would do anything to make this better for him...