One of the routine questions asked of a person going into surgery is, “Do you have proper emotional support afterwards?” Alan and I both smirk and look at one another. I’m emotional that’s for sure, not so sure supportive is the right choice of words. In fact, a few better options would be crazy, unstable, unhinged, emotional train wreck, irrationally weepy, and on and on. I have been married to this man for nearly 16 years and the few surgeries he has, this is the general trend. Seem ok, then devolve into incomprehensible puddle of goo. Alan is as cool as a cucumber. His blood pressure and pulse reflect that even. I’m not so sure it would be a good idea for them to check mine. They might feel compelled to admit me immediately. Alan suggests I get out, go shopping even. And while I don’t want to be here, I don’t really want to go anywhere either. I don’t want to be around any people. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want to be.

I have so many ideas of what I want to say to someone floating through my head, but if I talk, I might get weepy again. Alan thinks it’s so funny. I’m glad I’m useful for something right now. He’s sitting bare-assed in a chair watching a documentary about body modification while we wait. I am sipping more caffeine than is probably good for me and pretending to look oh-so busy on my laptop. I look important and deep in thought.

I’d give my right arm for some tequila or a mood stabilizing pill... any color will do. JUST GIVE ME ONE! Really though, I’ll be fine and tomorrow we will be chuckling about this some more. In the meantime, I think I will do some online shopping. Yeah, that’s it. Retail therapy from the comfort of the surgical waiting room.

He will be done soon. He will be all fine. He will feel better. And no doubt, so will I.