The Richard Update

6:20AM. St. Vincent's Hospital. The Heart Lobby.

First, I need to correct some misinformation that I spewed the last time I traveled to St. Vincent’s. It turns out that the hospital is not in Beaverton as I erroneously reported. You pass a sign that says, “Beaverton, Next 4 Exits”, then you turn off Highway 26 and head right for St. Vincent’s parking garage. So, I jumped to the conclusion that the hospital was in Beaverton. Wrong. It has a Portland mailing address. So, I need to take back all my tirades about Beaverton. Oops, sorry folks.

That being said, St. Vincent’s is still located west of Portland and we still live east of Portland. Getting Richard here by 6AM required leaving home at 4:15AM. Extrapolate the hour it took to get us both ready to leave and you’ll understand why, at 3:30AM, Max screeched out, “Are you two out of your friggin’ minds? Get your sagging, old asses back in bed this minute.” Max hates to sleep alone. But we didn’t. Richard is getting prepped for his procedure as we speak.

8AM - The Cafeteria at St. Vinnie's.

Richard has been whisked off to the mystery chamber where the doctor and crew will install his new stent. Breakfast sounded good to me, so here I sit, glaring at a plate of glop. “Special Eggs and Potatoes.” Yes, these eggs are special. They’re scrambled with cheese, some brown things and some green things. I had hoped the brown things were mushrooms, but upon closer inspection, they seem to be bits of sausage. I had trusted that the green things were spinach. But they will be merely remembered as the “unnamed green stuff.” The potatoes aren’t special. They’re nothing more than your traditional grease-soaked hashbrowns. Just looking at this plate is easing my hunger quite quickly.

8:50AM. St. Vincent's Hospital. The Heart Lobby.

One might think, given my vast experience, that I would be better at keeping myself occupied at hospitals. I pace and let my mind wander. I hum songs and recite poetry. I worry the people sharing the lobby. One minute and thirteen seconds down, only 118 minutes and 47 seconds to go. Yes, time truly does fly when you are having fun.

My mind goes off on a tangent. I am suddenly sitting on the Rembrandtplein, quaffing a beer. I spin and find myself in front of L’église de Ste. Catherine/Sint Katelinekerk. I turn again and I am suddenly walking the streets of Île-St.-Louis. Life is good. With no warning, there is a tap on my shoulder. I jolt to attention. It is one of the volunteers. Apparently, my snoring was disturbing the doctors in the operating theatre.

Noon. Home in the Upper Hood River Valley.

Richards procedure is done. Dr. Williamson gave him an A+. It only took about an hour and a half to place the stent in Richard's Iliac artery. The good doctor started to describe the procedure in way more detail than I cared to hear. I turned pale long before he stopped. Anything that starts with an incision or two in the groin is going nowhere I want to go. I was then allowed to visit Richard. He was still groggy, but good. He dozed. So I came home to deal with the dogs. Now I turn around and go pick Richard back up from the hospital. He should be ready to leave at about 4PM - just in time for rush hour.