I just left Eric in the surgical area and I suppose it shouldn't
surprise me, but I found it hard. Now I am sitting on a bank of
waiting room chairs, bolstered by coffee and a snack. It seems so
stereotypical: the emotional wife sniffing into her starbucks cup. I
have led a life that has been blessedly limited in its hospital
visits. In fact, Eric and I were laughing because the only time spent
in these types of situations have been initiated by me...in labour.
Pretty different circumstances and a far more adorable outcome.
Somehow, birthing a baby seems like a far more natural life occurance
than a new hip at 35. Is it just me?

The truth is that I find it incredibly tough to see the strongest man
I know lying in a bed, hooked up to an IV. He's a tough customer, our
Eric. He is determined, tenacious and steely-minded. But in a hospital
gown with half a lorazepam in his sytem, he is as vulnerable as kid.
In fact, he just told me that if I wanted to head home, he'd be
fine...yeah, that's why I got up at 5:30 to drive to White Rock. Maybe
I'll come back to pick him up in a few days...it kind of reminds me of
the time I got drunk and told him to leave me in Stanley Park. I told
him I'd be fine, too. I'm glad he didn't listen then and I think he'll
be happy I stayed today.

This new hip is welcome in our lives. It will allow my favourite
person in the world to get back to doing his favourite things. In the
meantime, this is nurse Lesley clocking in for my six week (at least)
shift.

It's almost 8 o'clock, which is surgery time...wish the bionic man luck.

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