John underwent his 4th epicondylectomy yesterday, which - in layman's terms - is an elbow surgery where they - after digging his ulnar nerve out of old scar tissue, transposed it to the anterior part of his arm, shaved off some bone, removed some bone, and then removed his previous scar, only to create a new one. Like I mentioned, this was his 4th time undergoing this particular procedure...(his 3rd time in just the right arm alone. He had it once in his left and it's almost inevitable that he'll need it repeated in that arm, too.)
I was able to be with him at the hospital, which I was very grateful for, because, unbeknownst to us, the whole ordeal would be over 10 hours...(resulting in a hefty payout to the babysitter!) We left the house at 9:30 am, and arrived at the hospital at 10:00 for his 12:00 appointment. I still can't figure out why they make you arrive 2 hours before surgery, when it typically doesn't take more than 30 minutes for the prep work. At about 10:30, and after John had already changed in to his gown, they informed us that his surgery had been rescheduled for 1:30. So we waited over three hours in pre-op, during which time we talked, slept a little, read, played around with our phones, which is where these funny pictures came from, and laughed hysterically on account of these funny pictures. John and I have this thing that we do whenever either of us (or either one of our children, for that matter) is at a doctor's office or hospital. We try to imitate - by making faces - the pain level charts that they always have posted on the walls. I think the middle picture is John's version of pain at a level 10.
After they finally wheeled him off to the O.R., I headed to the family waiting room, where the surgeon was supposed to meet me an hour later. I'm sure you can imagine my worry and concern, when over two hours passed before seeing or hearing from anyone. (Needless to say, I was praying like crazy.) The doctor finnally arrived, and informed me that the surgery had been prolonged due to the amount of scar tissue that enveloped the nerve. Basically, the condition was far worse than they had originally expected and planned for.
He then went on to tell me that John wouldn't be in recovery more than, probably an hour...which in reality turned out to be close to four because he was so groggy and doped up. I tried not to laugh when the nurse brought me back to his recovery room, because, no lie, his face was a cross between pictures one and three above.
We both find these pictures even more humorous today, because what started out as unlikely, unnatural, strained, and playful, ended up being...not really that far-fetched at all.