Tag: love

“Your Bones Held.”

Chapter Seven – Monday, May 6, 2024

Early in the morning on day five I had a breakthrough.

Dr. Tyler Cardinal was the neurosurgeon who assisted Dr. Urakov with my spine surgery. Tyler, as he asked to be called, made rounds very early every morning, before or just at sunrise. The morning after I was cut off from the narcotics, I was depressed. I was hurting. I was frustrated and felt stuck. Mentally, I was in a bad place.

No one really sleeps in the hospital. They bother you all night long, so I was up. It was still dark outside when Tyler walked into my room, carrying his usual backpack. He set it down on the chair and approached my bed. He asked me the same thing every morning.

“How are you today?” he asked.

Usually, I’d describe some progress I made the previous day. This time I answered, “Not good. I am in a lot of pain. It’s constant. I can’t get comfortable because I can’t stop lying where you operated. It hurts and I’m getting really tired of it.”

He thought for a moment and replied “You did just have back surgery. Of course it’s going to hurt.”

I looked at him with disdain. That was not the answer I was looking for. I asked him to do something. Prescribe something. Knock me out. Make me sleep until the pain went away.

He offered nothing but said he would speak with Dr. Urakov.

First off, I knew Head Guy Dr. Green told Dr. Urakov that he had spoken to me about my obnoxious attitude. I knew Dr. Urakov knew not to give me any more drugs that would make me mean. And I knew that Tyler was not the guy in charge. None of this improved my mood.

***

After he left, I spent a lot of time thinking about what he said. I didn’t like it at all. I felt betrayed. The doctors told me my prognosis was for a 100 percent recovery. What they didn’t tell me was how much it was going to hurt until I recovered and how long I had to suffer. That was when the realization hit me. While Leslie was lying next to me uncomfortable in his makeshift bed, there was nothing he could do to make the pain go away. I was in this by myself.

No one was going to help me any more than they already had. I could beg for more pain meds, but I wasn’t going to get them. I could scream and holler at the nurses but that was only going to make matters worse for me. I’d been spoken to already by the man in charge. He was not going to tolerate any more shit from me.

I had a choice to make. The only thing I had any control over was my attitude. My perspective. My way of thinking. I could not bend anyone here to my will. That jig was up. I threw as many fits as they were going to tolerate. It was time for me to come to terms with my predicament and make things better for myself.

I had one objective: get better and get the hell out of there. Even if I had to fake it. It was suck it up time.

I started to think about the progress I had made, enumerating the positives. I no longer had a catheter. I was no longer chained to the bed. I could move about. I had a back brace. I had a walker. I had Leslie. I could shower. I could wear my own clothes. I had the PT ladies every day, teaching me to do things with this brace on. I had a pic-line in my arm, so I didn’t have to get stuck every time they drew blood or gave me a shot.

The choice was clear. I could wallow in my pain, or I could just figure out how to make myself as comfortable as possible until I was discharged.  

I started using ice bags on my back. Long, thin, white hospital-grade bags that held one layer of cubes. I laid on it in bed and had some relief. I tied it to the brace and walked around with it.  

I asked for melatonin to help me sleep. I asked for Xanax to help keep my anxiety at bay. Then I asked if I could be allowed to go down to the hospital cafeteria for food. All my requests were granted. In fact, it was Tyler who granted those requests.

The pain was still there but my attitude toward it was different.

***

Day five was a big day for Leslie too…

Not only was he seen in the ER two days ago, gotten a legitimate diagnosis from our now-shared neurosurgeon and was fitted for his very own matching back brace. He also had a specific plan of care and a timeline to mend his compression fracture. 

After all those days in the hospital, we had sort of settled into a routine. I was able to shower with minimal supervision. The PT ladies took me for a walk. Some days they arrived while I was still drying my hair and gave me pointers on how not to bend the wrong way or twist while doing it.

Each day, Leslie and I put on fresh clothes, our braces and had breakfast together. The nurses were kind enough to have ordered him a tray for every meal. Then we’d go for a walk in the hall.

After a very rough start, yelling and cursing at everyone, I made amends. I apologized to all the nurses I bitched at. Pretty soon after that, they came to enjoy us. I had gotten significantly stronger and was walking pretty well. We still kept the walker with us as a precaution as we buzzed around corners and sped down the hall straight aways.

On this day, we walked the entire hallway multiple times and met new people. Everyone knew our story. We were hard to miss. One of the people we met on that walk was Elena. She was the head nurse for the neurosurgical wing. She was very happy to see me out of bed. She was equally thrilled at how well I was walking. Seeing me in street clothes she remarked that I looked like a visitor rather than a patient. That made me feel very good. Progress! And progress noted from a professional. Elena became a wonderful person to know. She would prove to be instrumental in not only my well-being but Leslie’s as well when the time finally came for him to be taken care of.

In the meantime, she made our comfort and progress her business. She heard how uncomfortable Leslie’s previous hospital bed was with the deflating air mattresses. So, she ordered one of her staff to do some redecorating. That night, a lovely woman came to our room wheeling a real, freshly made hospital bed for Leslie. She moved things out of the way. Set up the room so we could get around and asked if we needed anything more. It was a definite bright spot in our long stay.

Thanks to Elena and her staff, Leslie was finally comfortable. With all the focus on me and my recovery, it was hard to remember that Leslie was hurt too. Thank God his injury was not life threatening, or we’d be in an even worse situation.

“Your Bones Held.”

Prologue

Leslie and I met in February of 2017. I was in my fifties, and he was in his sixties. If we had met earlier, we probably would be celebrating something close to our 35th wedding anniversary. Instead, we’ve spent a glorious eight years (and counting) together but actually haven’t gotten around to getting married yet. We got engaged December 21, 2022. We call each other husband and wife but never got around to corralling our kids for a wedding. Still, these continue to be the best years of our lives for both of us.

Then came November of 2023.

November 12 was my company’s Thanksgiving Potluck Lunch. I woke up at 5 a.m. to make the sides for the noon event. I signed up for five. I had been reading Good Housekeeping, Allrecipes and Better Homes and Garden, clipping Thanksgiving recipes to try. I made spiced carrots, sauteed asparagus, a sweet potato quiche, baked apples and another dishe I don’t remember.

I arrived around 10:30 a.m. The office was beautifully decorated and already smelled amazing. The Potluck Lunch was sure to be a hit. Our office manager Isabel had a gift. She had impeccable taste in holiday décor and made the best slow-cooked Spanish Pork I’ve ever tasted. As usual, it was a big hit and there was so much delicious food that by the time I got home, I couldn’t even eat dinner. After telling Leslie all the details, I said good night and went up to bed early.

Around 9 p.m. Leslie startled me. He yelled up from downstairs that he needed to go to the hospital.

“What? Now?” I asked.

“Yes!” he yelled. “I have a kidney stone. I need to get to the hospital.”

I had no idea anything was brewing. I wasn’t even sure he did either. He was prone to kidney stones and was acutely aware of what was happening.  

I was not.

Nor was I prepared to take him to the hospital.

I had popped a sleeping pill when I got to our bedroom so I could sleep through the night because I was so super charged from the fun day.

Therefore, we had to enlist help from his son Adam who was living with us at the time to save money to buy a house.

He drove us to the hospital. They put Leslie in a room and put him on IV pain killers while they ran tests.

I was slumped in a chair, slurring my words, trying to stay awake. The sleeping pill had seriously kicked in. After about an hour of trying not to fall out of the chair, I asked Adam to take me home. Leslie was out of pain and promised to give us an update in the morning.

That was the start of it all…

What should have been a simple few-days procedure took two grueling months. Everything that could have gone wrong, did.

***

On December 1, 2023, I woke up at 5 a.m. excited to welcome the winter season by changing the décor of our house from Thanksgiving and fall to the holidays and wintertime. At 8 a.m., I saw on my work calendar that I had a meeting with my boss, the Chief Marketing Officer. It was the exact same time as it was last year when he met with everyone individually to discuss raises and bonuses. He had been talking about it for the last six months. This felt like a special day. We were still working remotely. I jumped into the shower and got dressed up for the Zoom call scheduled for 9:30 a.m. I was so excited. I had done my best work so far and I knew he thought so too. My husband and Adam wished me luck, kissed me goodbye and went to work.  

I sat down at my computer ready to start this great day when I saw the message that would change my life.

“It’s bad news,” my CMO wrote. 

“And an HR representative would be joining us on the call.”

The panic hit me first. I was getting fired.

Instantly and as fast as I could, I texted all my friends aka co-workers to ask them if they knew what was happening. I told them that I was sure I was getting fired. And asked if they knew anything about this. I also wanted to make sure I had their contact information to stay in touch if the worst was true.

Then I called my husband.

“I’m coming home,” he said.

“No. I’ll call you once I know the details,” I insisted.

“We are going to get through this,” he said. “I promise. I am here for you. Whatever it is, we are in this together.”

My company had been going through some restructuring for about a year or so post-Covid. There were two rounds of firings management said were to “trim the fat.” I was still there. I loved my job. I loved the people I worked with. It was a very special place. The marketing team would regularly get together after hours just to hang out. That’s how much fun it was. I worked there for five years. I made friends. I looked forward to every day. I always said I was going to die there because I never wanted to leave.

At 9:30 a.m. I logged into the Zoom call. The HR rep was there. The CMO, the man who hired me, mentored me, advised me on how to succeed, fired me unceremoniously within seconds of starting the call.

Still shocked despite assuming it was coming, I said flabbergasted, “But you’re the one who hired me. Five years ago,” as if that mattered.

“I know. That’s why I am personally delivering the news,” he said as if that would somehow soften the blow.

            Completely devastated, scrambling for something to say to somehow help myself get another job, I said. “Can I use you as a reference.”

He said, “All I can do is confirm your employment.”

Wow, what a shithead.

“I am going to mute Zoom so HR can answer all of your questions,” he said.

Ten minutes later, I was locked out of my laptop. The one that had all of my information, both professional and personal, on it. Five wonderful years of my life were over. I had no idea what to do. Where to go. I was devastated. I buried my mother when I was 29. And my father in 2019, but I had never experienced this level of loss before. The depth of grief that enveloped me seemed insurmountable. It felt like my life was over. My future was gone. I started to cry. I cried and cried and cried. I felt that grief from the bottom of my soul.

I called my husband back, wailing into the phone. The crying was uncontrollable.

“I’m coming home,” he said again.

“Wait an hour please,” I asked between sniffles. “I have to pull myself together.”

It didn’t work. I cried that entire day. I cried getting gas. I cried buying wine. I cried when we went to buy a new laptop.

I cried and drank wine all day while responding to hundreds of texts once word got out about what had happened. The love and support were so overwhelming that it made me cry even more.

When night finally came, my husband said, “Let’s get you out. Change the scenery. Let me take you to your favorite restaurant. Hang out with different people who love you.”

I said, “Ok.” But when I stood to get off the couch, I could barely walk. I had tried to bury my grief in wine and had too much.

“I think I’ll just go to bed,” I said. “But I never want to forget what happened today because I couldn’t bear to relive it again tomorrow.”

I was 62 years old and had to find a way to start all over again.

***

            The days, weeks and months that passed were a blur. My days were filled with completing job applications, interviews and taking writing tests, but nothing materialized.

            It turned out that about a dozen or so people were let go on that third round of firings. I worked closely with six of them. We started a group text to have someone to check in with at the start of the day. It ended up being a great place for moral support and encouragement.

On February 5, 2024, my company closed its doors. Unbeknownst to many of us, there were some shady dealings going on. The SEC had been investigating and indicted three individuals. The remaining people were either let go or absorbed into other companies under the corporate umbrella. I suppose I was one of the lucky ones. I almost felt grateful. At least I got a decent severance package and had my 401K.

            Leslie and I continued with our life. I sought employment and interviewed regularly while he supported us. The longer it took for me to find a job, the more unproductive, saddened and useless I felt. I have worked since I was 15 years old.

Leslie’s job description expanded to include cheering me up on a daily basis. He encouraged me when I couldn’t muster the enthusiasm myself and supported me unconditionally. That’s when he had the brilliant idea of taking us on a mini vacation. A hassle-free, seven-day cruise out of Port Everglades, an easy drive from our house that surely would get me out of my funk, clear my head and rejuvenate my job search.

            I was thrilled. Finally, I had a job! Planning a trip.

I love vacation planning. It has been a lifelong avocation. And I dive deep. By the time we leave on any trip, I know as much as possible about the places we are going to visit. What to see, where to eat, souvenirs to buy. All of it. I drilled down. Get granular. Every second is planned, including when to relax.   

            This trip was all about luxury. Effortless exploring on the ship and fun half-day shore excursions. We were to hit four ports and had two days At Sea. Leslie won an upgrade to our room from a balcony to a mini suite. We bought the Thermal Package to luxuriate in the giant whirlpool, waterfalls, steam room and sauna. We had specialty dining and top-of-the-line drink packages. All of the professional photos were included. We packed four suitcases for seven days. Each day had two themes. One for the days. The other for photos and dining in the evenings. I was in my glory.

            The ship didn’t disappoint. It was spectacular. Living in Florida for 50 years, I have been on many cruises. But on this one, Leslie went all out. We wanted for nothing.

We embarked on the ship at noon so that our vacation could start as soon as possible. We basked in the Florida sun shining off the ocean, toasted with Champagne and canapes on our balcony. We watched the pink, orange, red and gold sunset from our room before heading out to a fabulous meal. And that was only day one.

Day two was At Sea. It started with Room Service for breakfast. Lounging poolside. Speedwalking on the top deck of the ship. We talked about playing ping pong and shuffleboard later. We participated in Origami, a Trivia Contest and a Lottery game. Then we spent an hour in the Thermal Spa, melting away any muscle soreness and tension before dressing for dinner at the ship’s steak and seafood specialty dining restaurant.

We ate fresh oysters, lobster, steak and a chocolate souffle for dessert. The premium drink package included one of my favorite new wines; Belle Glos Pinot Noir with a hand-dipped, seductively curved red wax seal around the top of the bottle. We took in one of the evening’s Broadway-style Musicals before retiring for the night.

Day three we docked in Cozumel. It was our first shore excursion.