Red Light, Green Light

When I was little I never understood the game, "red light, green light." The person in charge knows that they will be tagged and really it is to their advantage to just keep everyone on "red light." As an adult I still don't get it and yet somehow I keep playing the game.

After the big scare of an emergent admission Thanksgiving weekend, J sent out an email on Friday asking his attendings and program directors who they would seek out for a second opinion. Within hours the head of trauma spine surgery at one of the big teaching hospitals wrote he would be happy to see me on Monday in between surgeries. GREEN LIGHT. Talk about fast results.

On Monday J managed to get a block of time free to come with me to this appointment. For a doc, he spent a considerable amount of time explaining the mechanics of the back, what the surgery would do, and a few options in where to go from here. His pager went off numerous times and yet he didn't answer them. I was impressed eventhough he spoke doctor-speak most of the time and did most of the consulting with my husband. Hellloooo? I'm the patient? Right? When we pressed what he would do, his reply was: "If it were me, I'd have the surgery. (GREEN LIGHT) But if it was my wife, I'd have her do a nerve block." RED LIGHT Before I knew it, I had an appointment for a nerve block for later in the month. GREEN LIGHT

I told my home health team what happened and my pain nurse pointed out I already had 2 nerve blocks already. Why would I need a third? RED LIGHT They suggested I call my doc to see when surgery could be scheduled. The "biddys" as I like to call them, are the gatekeepers of the neurosurgeons office. The two older ladies are cordial to patients on the phone, but if you are sitting in the waiting room you hear them talk bad about whoever just called: "Whatever Mr. Wilson, like you will ever get another prescription refil,." or "Yeah sure Mrs. Montgomery, I'll jump right on it," as they crumple up the memo note. My faith was low, especially after one of the biddys told me that they were booked through the holiday season, but she'd talk with my neurosurgeon and call me back. BIG TIME RED LIGHT

When I didn't hear back from them in days and days my pain nurse joined forces with my primary care doc. They told me the plan was to just show up in the ER with a bag and be admitted. That way I would be forced onto the schedule. GREEN LIGHT Logical, right? Well, thank God I know the medical system because I know it doesn't work that way. I called my primary care directly to ask whose service I was going to be admitted to (hospitalist, neurosurgeon, ward team, her private patients) and why would I go to the ER vs. admitting? She paused. RED LIGHT. I suggested she do a doc to doc phone call and see if that would move things forward without me hanging out in the ER for 9 hours while they played "hot potato" with my care.

In the meantime, I thought I would let my school advisor know what was going on so we could figure out what to do about the upcoming weekend-in-residence. I got an email from my professor and the program director to "just take care of myself and we'll worry about school after." GREEN LIGHT

I heard back from one of the biddys within hours of the doc-to-doc and sure enough, my surgery had been scheduled. GREEN LIGHT It was scheduled for 12/11...the same week J was on vacation and booked to go to Utah. RED LIGHT He hasn't been home in almost a year and we decided almost two months ago that he should take advantage of the time off and go alone. I couldn't sit for 5+ hours on the plane. I asked, cautiously, if the surgery could be moved to the following week. It was a risky move as it seemed highly greedy of me. It felt like, 'Hey, can you rearrange the world just to put me onto the surgery schedule, but then can you also do it on my terms?' It was met with a resounding No. Ok, surgery on the 11th it is! GREEN LIGHT

Back in October after my original hospitalization, Mom offered to come out to help me the week after my surgery if one was needed. There was a condition: I kept down. I was hoping to see if she would be willing to extend the time and cover the surgery day and 1-2 days in the hospital. I even offered to buy her plane ticket for her. I'm telling you, this woman is a saint. She is currently on her way for a 10 day stay with yours truly.

J had another huge decision and it had the theme song of The Clash's, "Should I Stay or Should I Go." The man was angry he was forced into this decision, but I decided to isolate my real need first. I needed someone here with me who loved and cared for me greatly. Someone I could trust. Both my husband and my mom were solid choices. Once I got my needs met, he could decide what felt best to him.

When I tell you that he still hadn't made his decision until 3:00 AM and his supposed flight's scheduled departure was at 6:00 AM, I'm not kidding. That isn't an exagguration. The stress of it all left me with a little case of the sniffles, which I'm not labeling a "cold." We processed this decision for over a week with high intensity. He hasn't seen his mom, sister, or grandparents in over a year. As I lost both of my remaining living grandparents this year I completely understood the draw and pull of seeing them. BIG time. My grief probably got in the way and pushed the point of the importance of connecting with them. But, then again his wife is having surgery. His wife. Spinal nerve surgery. Then you layer all of society's conventions, otherwise known as "the shoulds," on top of the decision and what you end up with is just a plain big emotionally laden mess. I finally started packing for him at 11:00 last night. That way the man could do it his way and make the decision the very last possible minute but at least I knew he had things like socks, Christmas gifts for his family members, and his cell phone charger.

Even this morning as he was sitting on the plane he called to ask if we made the right decision. Mom and J will cross paths today in the skies. Surgery is scheduled for tomorrow at 12:20 and I'll be staying in the hospital for at least one night, maybe two. GREEN LIGHT