Simply Preparing For Another Day

"You are defying the odds!" Says Dr. Ashish the morning after my lumbar procedure. "Because of this, you may be punished though..."

Punished meaning that because it went so smoothly, being the most invasive and impacting procedure of them all, that I will probably have to do it all again-- and soon at that.

The whole process began with me having to fast in the morning and afternoon, intaking nothing except for liquids: soy milk, cranberry tea sent from London (thanks Katie!), and some masala garam chai from the hospital. The reasoning behind the fast was not because it was a true surgery where they had to make sure that there was no digestion occurring, it was simply to reduce the likelihood of the dreaded vomit.

After being escorted to Gautam Nagar Hospital in high-style, courtesy of Dr. Shroff's own SUV, we all arrived and settled in our new room, room 202. Promptly we partook in our fav Knock-Rummy game and then soon enough it was time for me to change into my gown, become grossly intimate with the dreaded IV, and jump on the gurney to head downstairs to the Operation Theatre.

I was pretty excited to get down there only for the fact that the prior day I had told Dr. Ashish that I had a surprise waiting for him, which I did indeed. In the nature of all-things-Ryan, I had asked Kanako to put letter tattoos on my back to acknowledge Dr. Ashish and greet him just before shoving a needle in my spine. He loved it! In fact I could tell a few snapshots were taken of my tattooed back before being scrubbed up with iodine. Later Dr. Ashish told me that he emailed the photos out to a bunch of people. Apparently that was a first...who knew?!

The procedure was quick and not like the rest. Generally during a procedure Dr. Ashish will ask me several times over the course of only a few minutes about what changes I am feeling. My typical response is heaviness, pressure, and tingling... usually in that order. Immediately I sort of thought that my nervous system was on strike because I wasn't feeling any of these typical sensations as the needle went in. I told him that it felt very different, almost like all my muscles were contracting. I admitted to him that I felt none of the usual heaviness nor the pressure. I was sort of ashamed saying this until I was hit with a, "Good! It should feel different. Not very many people notice that." Phew. So I guess I can continue to trust those little misfiring neurons after all.

After the injection, Dr. Ashish and his crew rotated the bed up and down and left and right and up-right and up-left and down-right and down-left. I felt like I should pay him for the amusement ride I had just been on, but he left too soon, as did I to be whisked back up to room 202. There I was met by my friends, my friends who will all be great mothers, I just am glad that it won't be for me. Even before I was lifted back onto my bed we had Sarah readjusting my legs to guarantee and good stretch, Kanako stabilizing my head and neck because we were told not to move it, and Erin supervising the hospital crew making sure that IV wasn't pulled and that everything fell back into place. I looked up towards the ceiling, though the ceiling wasn't even in view... my dear friends were hovering over me, awaiting some sort of response.

I think I told them aggravatingly that I was glad that they weren't really my mothers. But on some level, each of them plays a piece of that role too, perhaps why I love them all so much.

5 hours with my body completely flat, inverted, and straight; followed by the rest of the evening rotating side to side, but still inverted and flat. No bending, no games, no eye wandering, no fun.

Surviving the first 5 hours is the major challenge and I feel that I completed that with great success. Over the past decade or so I have practiced many moments of patience and tolerance, being in and out of hospitals spending weeks at a time on flat bed rest. I try to use these qualities, as well as other qualities that I have built upon over the years in circumstances that may call for something a little more substantial or mind-bending or critical. I suppose that every experience that you have in life simply just prepares you for another. What do I supposes this current experience is prepping me for? Who knows.

Nighttime came and went with only a slight glitch in the system. Somehow I ripped out the IV in my hand during my slumber. I swear I was asleep and didn't do it cognitively, but I am not really sure that anyone believes that one.

I awoke with only a slight headache, akin to a spell of dehydration or a bout of insomnia. This headache lasted the entirety of the day, but it was tolerable and didn't stop me from returning to the GN Hospital later in the evening to bring Michael and his girlfriend dinner, nor did it stop me from rolling through some sort of species feces in the dark of the night. My money is on that of human origin... gross.

But all is well here in Green Park now. The pigeons are squawking. The patients are moaning. The digestive cookies are flowing. The horns are honking. Home Sweet Home.