Life doesn't always work out how you imagine. I understand that the best laid plans can go pear shaped. If 2022 had a vibe, it would be unanticipated chaos. And so this is where we find ourselves on our twelth wedding anniversary. The lucky twist is that we get to be together.
We didn't have specific plans, but were hoping to visit an exhibition or maybe have lunch somewhere nice. Most certainly a cocktail would be involved somewhere. But earlier in the week at midnight Peter started having a pain on his right side. He's had gall stones before, but this was different. The pain intensified and was unrelenting. I called for an ambulance at 1am. As he wasn't bleeding or unconscious I would need to speak to a nurse first. She rang about 15 minutes later and commented on hearing Peter moan in pain in the background. He'd vomited twice. She assessed the situation and an ambulance was on it's way but would take at least 30 minutes. I didn't want Peter to know about the delay, so just said told him it was coming. I watched him pace the corridor, occassionally trying to lay down but he couldn't find relief for the acute pain. We quickly got a small bag with his phone, charger and meds together and got him dressed. At 2.30 the ambos arrived, and I stood in the laneway in my pajamas giving contact details and fetching water so Peter could take some pain killers. He was off to hospital at 2.45am.
Peter's troublesome gall bladder was the cause. We'd been warned many years ago that emergency surgery could be a likely outcome. It seems that moment had arrived. Between scans and pain relief, while waiting for surgery Peter suddenly got cold. The nurses flagged this and more tests began. It looked like he had an infection. Peter texted me the next morning to say his surgery was happening now. I missed the message as I was on my way to work. I rang the hospital and found out he was currently anesthetised. I would just have to wait.
Peter texted me later that day. Luckily I work across the road from the hospital so could visit easily. I was surprised to see how chipper and alert he was. I guess this is the wonder of morphine and endone. I would return the following morning with pajamas, headphones, his laptop and a book to keep him comfy and entertained. Upon returning, Peter had news. The doctors had explained that Peter had made them work hard during surgery. His gall bladder had actually burst and showed signs of necrosis. He was a mess inside! This is what had caused the infection and would mean Peter's stay would be longer.
I was shaken by this news. I think it's natural to run through 'what ifs' in your mind. How lucky we were that it burst in hospital while waiting for surgery. While he was being observed, monitored and cared for. How grateful we are that his surgeons were wonderful, his nurses amazing, that there were mostly good vegan options in the hospital food and that all of this care came as part of the public health system. And how thankful we are for renewing our ambulance membership. It could have all been so different. We thanked our lucky stars.
After five days in hospital Peter finally got the ok to come home, stocked up with antibiotics and painkillers. He showered, washing the smell of hospital off him. I grabbed some takeaway and we sat on the couch in pajamas, heater on and watched the Great British Bake Off. Such a wild and crazy saturday night. We woke up today, had breakfast and sat quietly. Hospitals are noisy. Beeping machines, people's lives colliding in small shared rooms, as hospital staff come and go. I knew the relief of silence for Peter's neurodiverse brain. Calmness brought through quiet. As I took our cereal bowls to the kitchen I suddenly remembered. Leaning over the couch, I kissed his forehead. 'Happy anniversary'.
This isn't how I imagined our anniversary. But this week was a reminder. Moments each day, during my visits where I was so relieved to see Peter. Cup his face with my hand. Give him a gentle hug. Thanks to COVID, I had to wear a mask into the hospital. This meant I couldn't kiss his forehead as I normally would when he's ill. But I was able to visit freely, unlike during hospital lockdowns at the beginning of the year. Again, I'm reminded of our luck and good timing.
I'm sure we'll celebrate, or raise a glass to another year together in the coming weeks. But this anniversary simply being together is enough. Being able to kiss each other and enjoy quiet calmness. I've joked this week saying that if you're going to have a problematic internal organ, it's good if it's one you can afford to lose. Peter and I have often said that us meeting was sheer dumb luck and weird timing. Perhaps this is the essence of us. I'm thankful for a week where luck and timing played a significant role and grateful that we get to be together. There was a sign in the hospital as we exited to the car park. 'Always there when it matters most'. This seems to sum up this years' anniversary. This is twelve.
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