"I feel like there's a piece of plastic in my chest....."

And there is.

We left home about 4:10 this morning--traffic was almost non-existent on the tollway. Got to Rush about 5:20 am. After registration, normally I was only allowed to walk with Earl to the "doors to pre-op" and had to say good-bye. Today, the nurse said I could go with him to help him change clothes. After answering all the detailed health questions (again) and advising them about the PDT & the Photofrin injection, the nurse suggested I "go upstairs" with him to make sure they are aware of it.
Alright-y.
I had to put on a blue gown, although they said nothing about my probably germ-laden tote bag. We waited again and a nurse for the anesthesiology (isn't Spell Check great?) team came in and (again) asked the same questions. As she was leaving, Earl realized that the rubber band had come off his tube & his entire dupa was wet, as was the gown & sheet. After we closed it off, he dried off & was given a fresh gown and a blanket to lay on. She then sent in a nurse who was "qualified" to access his port, but they were unable to draw from it. The nurse called an attending (doctor) to see if he could do it; no. They decided they had to put in the IV (the larger line is better anyway in case they need to push more fluids) and they would check out his port while he was "under". While this was taking place, I think the stress combined with lack of sleep just got to me and I started to tear up. The next thing I know, a blue clad woman was handing me one of the hospital mini boxes of tissue. I stepped out of the curtained area to talk to her; her name was Sandra (!) and she is a Chaplain-in-training. We talked about 6 or 8 minutes more while they were trying to access the port. I finally went & kissed Earl on his bald spot (which, by the way, seems to be growing since he is losing hair from the chemo) and Sandra went with me downstairs. I will probably never see her again, but she was there when I needed her.
It seemed an eternity before I talked to the doctor on the phone in the Smith Lounge. He said it had gone well, but they had to cut off the flap on the stent because it kept crimping. The flap was kind of experimental anyway, and a pet project of Dr. Warren's. He said Earl will do the barium swallow today and if he feels well, could go home tonight. (We had been told previously he would stay overnight). We'll see.
I waited almost another hour, and finally went up to the receptionist again. She checked and said, yes, he is in his room, and what's going on here? (I don't know-you tell me). She wrote my new visitor tag as she was talking on the phone--Room 870South, no? It's North? Ok, Room 870North, and gave it to me. I went upstairs; Room 870North was empty. Ok, he must not be up yet; this is what happened on June 14. I waited - I walked east - I walked west - I walked east back to the room - maybe they used the other elevators - no - he is not there - I walked west back to the elevators I thought they used for post-op - waited - waited. OK. What's going on. I started to get worried. I went to the nurses station - OH! Mr. REINHERT? HE'S BEEN MOVED TO 871North! As I walked to 871North, I said to myself, in a loud voice, "There's NO "H" IN OUR NAME!" Earl was on his side; I noticed dried blood in various spots. He said he had been there since about 10:15 (45 minutes). (It was then that I remembered the change of nursing shift happens around that time). I asked him how he felt, and he said ...............

We'll see how he feels later today.