5. Waiting to poop... not me, her.
They say there is no dignity in hospitals... or maybe I just coined that term. But it is as true as the sun rising in the East or a nurse entering the recovery room to take the patient's temperature just as you've nodded off in the "recliner" that was designed for a man half your size and a quarter your width.
Look, watching a Doctor feel up your wife's chest pre-surgery is something that takes a little getting used to. Watching her hospital-gown-exposed-ass trot off to the bathroom as a nurse trails behind her soon becomes just another day at the office. And getting a glimpse of the post surgery carnage is just a thing you talk about with the other "vets" on those nights in the bar where all truths are laid bare on the table.
Because I have seen this women poked, prodded, stuck and written on by the medical team that is trying to save her life. And I am grateful.
But dear God I wish she could shit.
Pardon my French, but the effects of Oxy and any other narcotics have build up a levy in my gorgeous lady wife, and I just pray she will be in a finer mood once the dam breaks and life returns to normal. And by that I mean a " post surgery, pre-reconstruction, wife bleeding through tubes into tiny reservoirs" kind of normal. Not sure "normal normal" is on the table, but it is a journey.
We have tried the meds, prune juice, apple juice, and so far, not a ton of luck. There is talk of enemas. I love this woman, and will do what is required, but in the interest of having sex ever again, please, let this never come to pass.