This is NOT the Jayne you're looking for...

As you may have figured out by now, PJ (see what I did there?) isn't feeling well today - what with having an organ removed and all - so I, her Husband, will be the substitute "Jayne" for this post.

I've had the privilege of being a (very) behind-the-scenes player in this blog since the beginning,  as either an over-the-shoulder proof-reader (she loves that), or an occasional source of inspiration (I was a Slutty Bee. I regret nothing.), but  I think it'll be fun giving the actual writing a try.

Having just read my last sentence, I can tell this is going to suck. You have my condolences: PJ will be back soon, I promise. Let's get this show on the road.

Obviously, the surgery went as expected: completely laproscopic, no complications, etc. There was a small surprise, but we'll get to that in a bit. Let's start the timeline, shall we?

The day starts at 5:30 AM.

This, as you may already know, is not a good time of day for my Wife. In fact, she'd like to believe that mornings start around 10, but our son has confirmed that the ass-crack of dawn is a perfectly acceptable time to wake up.

We make our way to the hospital, and arrive right on time at 7:00 so that we can get prepped for the 9:00 surgery. I notice very few people in the waiting room: good sign, I think. I'm an idiot, so you can guess how this actually turned out.

Three hours later, they wheel her off to the operating room.

Side Note: after spending several hours in a surgical waiting room, I can safely say that Grey's Anatomy is full of shit. I saw dozens of doctors, and there was no McDreamy, no McSteamy, no McNothin'. Well, there was McDumpy, McSchlumpy, McUgly, and McSurly.

Since I'm about as useful as an underwater bicycle at this point, and I'm not going to be needed for another two hours, I decide to get something for breakfast. Not three minutes after I leave the parking lot, I get a call from her surgeon. From the operating room. While she's on the table. Fuck.

Turns out, he found an Umbilical Hernia, and he needed to let me know before he fixed it. How courteous.

Admittedly, I can't really give him any crap, because this guy was clearly very good at his job: he caught an extra problem, fixed it, AND removed the offending Gallbladder in less than an hour. It usually takes me longer to make frickin' spaghetti.

So, at 11:00, I head back to the hospital, and wait for her to get out of recovery.



And wait.



And wait...



And wait.



Seriously? What the hell is going on back there? Cripes, how long has it been?


...Half an hour? Oh. Ok. Well, I'll just sit back down, then. Sorry about that. How long's this supposed to take, again? Hour? Hour and a half? I can handle that.



Three hours.

We got there at 7:00, and left at 2:00. I didn't care; I was just happy to get my Wife back. My sweet, delirious, high-as-a-fucking-kite Wife. She's a peach when she's on drugs - she really is. Remarkably friendly. Cute as button. And funny as hell.

Knowing full well what was in store, I took a video of our conversation during the car ride home. I was originally going to post and/or transcribe it here, but frankly, it just doesn't translate, and PJ would flay me alive if it found its way onto the interwebs. Suffice it to say, it is awesome, and if anyone wants to see it, give me a buzz.

But just so everyone gets a sense of what I had the joy to witness, just imagine a four year old (her voice gets really high-pitched when she's under the influence; no idea why, but it's awesome.) juxtaposing questions about the existence of her own belly button with discussions of I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, Cotton Balls and Death (sounds like an amazing band), and graham crackers. It was beautiful.

Anyway, that's all for now - thanks for tolerating me while you could, and JPJ will be back next post!