Bedside manners

I wrote this when Heather was in the hospital—right before her surgery—but decided to post it today.

Sometimes, when life feels overwhelming, the best thing you can do is laugh at the situations—and people—that make it even harder.

Heather was waiting for surgery when a member of the surgical team stopped by to explain what to expect. You know the drill: “We’re going to perform this procedure, and with anesthesia, there’s always a chance of complications…”

But this guy didn’t ease into it. He laid out everything—in detail. Fortunately, Heather was too out of it to fully grasp what he was saying, so I had the distinct pleasure of experiencing this conversation solo.

Scenario 1: The ideal outcome—exploratory laparoscopic surgery. Insert cameras, examine the digestive tract for about an hour, possibly identify and fix a minor issue. We were all hoping for this one.

Scenario 2: A larger incision might be needed, with no clear idea of how long the surgery would take. Not my favorite scenario, but still reasonable.

Scenario 3: A colostomy might be required. I was very grateful this didn’t happen.

Scenario 4: A very large incision, the wound left open, and Heather taken to the ICU for observation.
(At this point, I stopped listening.)
Thank God this worst-case scenario was avoided.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added:
“And with anesthesia, there’s always a risk of cardiac arrest, stroke, or sudden death.”

Yes, I know they have to tell you all of this. I get it. But at that moment, my focus was entirely on Heather—on keeping her calm, positive, and not terrified.

I quietly muttered, “Well, that was positive.”
A little snarky, I admit.

So I quickly followed it up with, “You guys must be exhausted after such a long day and now heading back into surgery tonight.”

He replied (and I’m paraphrasing):
“Surgeons are trained to work at 100%. Even if we come in feeling like 80%, we work at 100%. Unlike you and others, who might go to work feeling like 70% or less and only work at that capacity.”

I honestly wanted to laugh out loud.

Clearly, this guy must have worked with me before. I can guarantee I do not give 100% every moment of every workday. Even a computer doesn’t operate at 100% all the time.

That said, I’m glad he has such a big ego. I want Heather’s surgical team to give it their all—100%, absolutely. Heck, if they want to overachieve and give me 105%, I’m all for it. Give me a surgeon with a big ego in the ER any day.

He was doing his job, explaining the possible scenarios, and I truly understand that. But today, I’m choosing to sit back and accept that maybe I’m only capable of giving 50%—and that is completely okay.

Since Heather’s surgery was after hours, there wasn’t the usual automated board providing updates. I asked Dr. Bedside Manners if I’d receive updates if the surgery took longer than expected.

He replied, “Well, our focus needs to be on Heather, so we don’t leave the surgery to give updates.”

I smiled sweetly and said, “Of course, I understand. I was just hoping there might be a way to send an update. Thanks, Dr. Obvious.”

I wasn’t expecting hourly check-ins—but a little reassurance would have gone a long way.

When the surgery was finally over, Heather’s lead surgeon called me, and we spoke for more than ten minutes. Heather was returned to her room around midnight, and I was able to give her a kiss goodnight.

Her surgical team gave it their all—100%, to be exact—and I will always be grateful for that.

Don’t forget to hug your loved ones. Life is precious.
xo
Lisa

Photo note: The picture shown is Heather in an 8th-grade school play, dressed as a nurse. She gave 100% in that performance—just like she’s giving 100% in her recovery.