Arriving at the hospital about thirty minutes early, we stepped up to the check-in desk together. As the Pres handed the smiling dark haired woman his paperwork, I sat in the nearby chair. When done at the desk, we entered the waiting area where we almost immediately stuck up a conversation with those few individuals scattered around the perimeter of the room.
It wasn't very long before a nurse called out the Pres' name motioning us to follow her. Changing into the blue patterned hospital gown, he didn't even care if it was tied as he climbed into the bed on wheels. However, being the conservative one, I suggested that I at least tie it at the neck. As I did one nurse after another came in to draw blood, take vitals and insert the port for the I V, take an EKG and pack his belongings into one of those large plastic bags which was then tucked neatly on the shelf under his bed.
Time went by quickly for me but not for the Pres. He was feeling anxious and to me it was obvious. He was short and matter-of-fact with his responses to everyone including the anesthesiologist and surgeon. When it was time, I kissed him and told him to behave and that I would see him later.
Two hours later, the doctor told me he "did well...really well" and that he was able to break up the largest stones and thoroughly flush out his bladder. Then, I was told I could head up to room #10 in recovery. It seemed as if my legs couldn't move fast enough yet as someone asked me if I needed help, I spotted his room number on the right side of the hall. He was awake...groggy...but awake...bleeding...but awake. Looking a little peaked, he was sipping on a 16 oz cup of water. He had a big grin on his face. Leaning down to kiss him, he whispered, "look...no catheter." I was ecstatic! He was sooooooo happy and as long he could urinate on his one and the bleeding subsided, he would not have to have one.
Several hours later, the Pres was wheeled down to the front door and I was allowed to take him home...home to A Quiet Corner.