As I sit here to write, after a day of moving medical supplies, my father is undergoing triple bypass surgery. Before I came to work at the warehouse, I worked onsite at the Big City Hospital. Instead of picking orders for delivery, I delivered those orders to the units. One of the units, to which I deliverd supplies, was the Cardiac Profusion unit in the OR. This is the unit where all the open heart and bypass surgeries take place. This is where my Dad will have his procedure performed. I know these people by name and they are good at their jobs.
I am confident that my friends in that unit will take good care of my Dad. The surgeons are the best in state, probably the best North of Boston. I am certain that the recovery nurses will attend to his every medical need. I know that he will be in better health from here on.
So, why am I so concerned? Aside from the fact that he’s my Dad, and that I love him and know he’ll have many more years of living past his 70th birthday, I am not prepared to see him after the surgery. I’m not ready to see him breathing with the aid of a ventilator. I’m not ready to see the tubes extending from his body like spider’s legs. I’m not ready to see him in pain or discomfort.
I suppose I can find comfort that the very supplies I handle daily, will help him to recover. I handle it all: the profusion kits, ventilator tubing, blood pressure cuffs – all this and more. I put these items and more in the hands of doctors, nurses, technicians and support staff, in order for them to help heal my Dad.
This is one of those times when I’m glad I have this job.