As I re-read over my post, I noticed a couple of omissions that I wanted to correct.
First, Alesia and our doctor formed a bond because of a few things - the doctor was also African-American in a clinic full of white doctors. She also had an unusual first name, which also happened to be Alesia's sister's first name. But she did advocate for Alesia when no one else had the time, or the interst in really finding out what the problem was. We became friends, she visited our house, we visited hers. She made suggestions when one of us needed a specialist.
I also mentioned that Alesia and I prayed before her surgery. Acually, we prayed everyday - over meals, when one of us was in need, when a friend or loved one was ill. We didn't attend church, the pews did not give Alesia the legroom she needed, Nor did we push any belief on anyone - our faith was our faith, and everyone else was free to have theirs.
With that clarified -
Alesia left the hospital the next day. She craved I talian drive-through, so I got a bucket of spaghetti, with rolls for both of us. She ate 2 bites and decided that wasn't what she wanted after all.She wanted some ginger ale to settle her stomach, so I went to the store for the ginger ale. Back home, my food was cold, but Alesia was in pain, and apologetic. Not a big deal, we've got a micowave. And it was more or less a few days like that, nothing tasted"right" to her. when she started eating better, and feeling better, I sat on the bed beside her, I took her hand, ans said "Alesia, I have to tell you something...." and immediately she teared up, "What, what is it?" and then full out sobbing "What happened? What's wrong?" and after a few minutes, she was still crying but, but slowed enough to tell there was still one stone they couldn't get laproscopically. "What? What? Another operation?........why didn't they tell me, why didn't you tell me, you're my husband" I tried to explain that I wanted to wait until she was better, and could handle some bad news. "Another operation, another operation" was all she could sob, then she reached for the phone, for her sister or one of her friends, and I did all I knew how to do, I went outside for a smoke.
First, Alesia and our doctor formed a bond because of a few things - the doctor was also African-American in a clinic full of white doctors. She also had an unusual first name, which also happened to be Alesia's sister's first name. But she did advocate for Alesia when no one else had the time, or the interst in really finding out what the problem was. We became friends, she visited our house, we visited hers. She made suggestions when one of us needed a specialist.
I also mentioned that Alesia and I prayed before her surgery. Acually, we prayed everyday - over meals, when one of us was in need, when a friend or loved one was ill. We didn't attend church, the pews did not give Alesia the legroom she needed, Nor did we push any belief on anyone - our faith was our faith, and everyone else was free to have theirs.
With that clarified -
Alesia left the hospital the next day. She craved I talian drive-through, so I got a bucket of spaghetti, with rolls for both of us. She ate 2 bites and decided that wasn't what she wanted after all.She wanted some ginger ale to settle her stomach, so I went to the store for the ginger ale. Back home, my food was cold, but Alesia was in pain, and apologetic. Not a big deal, we've got a micowave. And it was more or less a few days like that, nothing tasted"right" to her. when she started eating better, and feeling better, I sat on the bed beside her, I took her hand, ans said "Alesia, I have to tell you something...." and immediately she teared up, "What, what is it?" and then full out sobbing "What happened? What's wrong?" and after a few minutes, she was still crying but, but slowed enough to tell there was still one stone they couldn't get laproscopically. "What? What? Another operation?........why didn't they tell me, why didn't you tell me, you're my husband" I tried to explain that I wanted to wait until she was better, and could handle some bad news. "Another operation, another operation" was all she could sob, then she reached for the phone, for her sister or one of her friends, and I did all I knew how to do, I went outside for a smoke.