An unexpected procedure

Meg has continued to feel tired and unwell, with her head aching, and the incision from her March 22nd surgery has never fully healed. The incision has been draining on and off: the medical staff have looked at it on a couple of (weekly) visits but have never been that worried.

The drainage increased last Friday (don't all medical changes happen on a Friday afternoon?) and Meg spent the whole weekend holding kleenex to her wound, filling multiple waste baskets. We went to the doctor's office on Monday for a checkup and they decided it was time to do something about it.

The plan was to promote healing by roughening up the edges of the wound and sewing them together. This was something more than an office procedure, but something less than full-fledged surgery in the operating room with an anesthesiologist, so it took the staff a while to find and outfit an appropriate room. Despite the local anesthetic, the procedure was very painful. The surgeon was very pleased with the outcome and saw no actual signs of infection in the weeping wound: always a worry.

Meg is spending the night in the hospital where, because of the concern about infection, she is in isolation and is confined to her room. Unfortunately (or fortunately), because she's been a patient there several times, we were fully experienced in getting her comfortable and fed, despite all the bureaucratic hiccoughs of a large organization! The hope is that she will come home today, that the wound specialist will sign off on her wound on Thursday and that she will be able to restart her chemotherapy soon (and that the upcoming MRI shows nothing alarming).

UPDATE: Tuesday AM: she's now resting quietly at home.

A radio show (on Shakespeare's birthday) reminded me that, if there's one thing that we're doing here, it is not "killing the spirit of love with perpetual dullness".

SHAKESPEARE SONNET 56

Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd,
To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might:
So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill
Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness,
To-morrow see again, and do not kill
The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness.
Let this sad interim like the ocean be
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
Come daily to the banks, that, when they see
Return of love, more blest may be the view;
Else call it winter, which being full of care
Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.