Dad's surgery was postponed to yesterday afternoon, then this morning, then this afternoon, then earlier this afternoon, then, no, later this afternoon.
I don't think he was so anxious about the surgery as he was about the fact that he hasn't eaten in so long. A fact which he constantly reminded the nurses about whenever they asked how he was doing.
"The diet plan in this place sucks."
He's not a fan of the hospital gowns, either.
The surgery is done; for all purposes, it was a success. There were some complications and, according to Mom, according to the surgeon, there were some split-second decisions made on the table (I hate hearing that ... Like, what if you had split the second the other way? What would/could have happened then?)
They opted sir a synthetic arterial graft/bypass instead of one from his leg, and the aneurysm had been growing for so long that it was bound up with too much nerve tissue and was too inflamed from being rejected by his body for so long that it could not be safely removed in the end. They cut of the blood supply to it, with the (very long-term) result being that it will shrink, shrivel and dissolve ... eventually. We hope before the next operation. On his other leg.
But he's done, he's recovering, and Mom, I hope, can finally rest a little.
