Okay . . . cut to the chase. Tom got into the ICU after his surgery this afternoon about 2:45 and they let me see him about an hour later. (More on that, later.)

The surgery took 6 hours and during that time Amy, the OR nurse, called me about every hour (I was in the ICU waiting room) to tell me what they just did, what they were doing and what was about happen. He ended up with a double bypass, they replaced the aortic valve (with pig tissue) and repaired his tricuspid valve with a ring. As far as I know, things went along smoothly all the way; what I was told is that everything went along just fine.

I woke up this morning at quarter to three and couldn't get back to sleep despite the alarm being set for 4:30. So I got up at 4 and was set to hit the road at 5:10. I even took the trash up to the road for pick up. I was concerned about the car starting so I wanted to try it with enough time to call Jeri if it didn't want to start, but as it happened, it started just fine. Got to the hospital at 5:45 and got "princess parking"-- probably the best parking place in the lot. I'm glad I got there early as I was able to spend some time with Tom before the morphine took effect, after which I just stroked his hand and listened to him breathe and snore softly. After I walked along beside him to the elevator and kissed him, I went back to the room to gather all his stuff to schlep down to the car for storage until he's in a regular room again. (THAT's the real reason for "princess parking.")

Then I went to the lounge area that is the ICU waiting room. I wrote some notes and impressions in my journal/notebook, etc. Now to tell you how fried my brain is these days, the obvious took me a little while. I was sort of staring at one of the telephones for awhile before it occurred to me -- "telephone"..."local call"..."oh, call a friend"..."Mary Faux will be up this early -- doesn't work in the morning" etcet etcet. Gave her a call and she grabbed some croissants and came right down. (The coffee in the waiting room is great.) So she kept what's left of my brain occupied through all the waiting. Kit Hutchins, who is a nurse at Portsmouth Regional (off today), came in and later Hutch (her husband) joined us. And Cecil Abels midafternoon. So I had good company who also took care of my every need.

I was able to go in to the ICU to see him around 3:45. Now remember, everyone has warned me how shocking and difficult to bear the appearance of the patient is right after surgery, body probably still not brought up to normal temperature, on a ventilator, tubes coming out of EVERYWHERE, many machines that go 'ping' and probably the worst, the tube of bloody fluid coming out of the chest cavity.

Deep breath. You know, it wasn't as bad as I expected. And by the time I was ready to leave the hospital I had figured out why -- his color, at least, looks sooooooo much better than it has for the past coupla months. In many ways, he looked better -- even right after surgery -- than he has for the past several months. Now THAT'S scary. And, sometime when I can let myself do it, I'm going to cry for hours in relief. (But if I let myself cry right now, whether for relief or any other reason, I don't think I'll be able to stop.)

It's not over yet, but we're on the way. He'll probably be in the ICU until late tomorrow. Then a few more days in Telemetry.

Everything's going to be okay. (That's my mantra.) And I'll schedule falling apart totally for sometime, -- maybe later this summer. And now, since all the updates to the four major Update Centrals have been made, all I have yet to do is call Tom's only other family, an elderly cousin, and then . . . I'm going to crash. Hope nobody (especially the hospital) calls. I'll finish the chicken salad I've been picking at all afternoon, wash my hair and shower and collapse into bed -- oh, yeah, feed the cats and insulate Mort. Everything's going to be okay.

Keep the white light beaming!

Linn