January is slipping away from me already. I haven't had time to add anything to this blog -- but for a very good reason. I've been busy playing nursemaid to an ailing husband. Last Tuesday, he had surgery to repair a deviated septum and to remove a bone spur that was blocking an infected sinus passage.
It was fairly straightforward outpatient surgery -- went in at 7:00 AM and got home around 2:00 that afternoon. Still, it involved someone using a drill inside his nasal passages, and articles about the surgery were all too graphic in describing the dangers of drilling that close to brain and eye socket. As you can imagine, I was a nervous wreck until I saw him sitting up again, admittedly looking a bit pale, but feisty as ever.
He's had a fairly essay recovery, too -- very little pain and no adverse reactions to anesthesia, but he did bleed for four days and had to sleep sitting up in a recliner. By today, he's back to normal, for which I am enormously grateful, but I've learned a little about myself from the experience. Bloody bandages still make me squeamish, and I am sorely lacking in the patience department. When my mother vehemently vetoed my teen-aged impulse to go to nursing school, she was absolutely right.
I may admire our medical professionals, and I may write books about nurses, but when it comes to everyday jobs, I'll take teaching or writing every time!