About 15 years ago, I had the best hamburger and watered down beer ever. It was from a local diner type of place in Brooklyn Heights that had different burgers. The occasion was me finishing off the NY and NJ bar exams after studying like a mad man for the previous two months. Though, it would be months until I would find out if I would be paying NY and NJ money every year just because I passed their exams, the burgers tasted so good, at least in my memory, because it came right after a stressful situation -- in other words it was my relief burger. I thought I would never repeat and have a burger taste so fine ever again, but I was wrong. Last night we had a burger that tasted just as sweet -- the post-lumpectomy hamburger.
The stress had been growing the last week. We went to a comedy club last week on spur of the moment (and also because my brother volunteered to babysit) and it was such a relief to go out and eat, laugh and chat with another couple we met there without someone asking my wife "how are you feeling?" Meanwhile life carried on as we approached the date of surgery. The day before my wife bussed into the city for her last round of pretests. Of course the hospital didn't call us to tell us her admittance time so, with her cell phone battery going red, she made one final call to me, from the hospital, to call the hospital to find out the time. She later discovered that was a good move as the outpatient department can be very bad about making those calls in a timely matter.
They told us her admittance time was 2 PM, so we immediately called our morning/get the kids on the school bus sitter and said they were relieved. This disappointed our daughter as one of the women was her Sunday school teacher, Upon hearing this, she decided to come later in the evening (once we realized we had a later surgery time, we knew we'd be home late) to relieve the after school sitter, which was very sweet. The nice thing about the late start was not only was my wife able to go to the Y for a final work out, but that I was able to work a few hours and was able to vacate my planned day off, saving it for a nicer occasion.
The other advantage, and those in the NYC area will know what I mean, is that we managed to avoid both the morning and evening rush hours. Driving into and out of Manhattan is not that bad if done out of peak times. And once in the city, traffic moves at a slow but predictable pace. While I don't love driving in the city, I equate it to driving my wife's Civic over my larger car. In her car I feel the road while I generally float in my car. When driving in the city, all my defensive driving sensors are on full alert, a big difference from driving in our fairly quiet suburb.
Since it was post-rush hour, I guesstimated that the trip would take 90 minutes which was right on the nose (despite Google maps telling me it would take 1:04 or 1:14 with traffic) -- 60 minutes to get to and drive through the Lincoln Tunnel, another 30 to get across town. We wanted to get in a bit early so we could stretch and walk around a bit before going to the hospital, so we left home around 11:30 and had the car parked in the hospital's subsidized lot (rate I paid was the same as nearby commercial garages I had coupons for -- pro tip: if driving into Manhattan, print out coupons for garages near where you are going, you can save a ton of money -- but was actually connected to the hospital by tunnel) by 1PM. We wandered a bit on the east side, just talking, burning off some energy and then, at 1:45, entered the hospital.
The waiting room was crowded and my wife's surgery was delayed, so we sat. We found out later that it was due in part to complications with some earlier surgeries. So while my wife's actual surgery was scheduled for 3:40, she didn't actually go under the knife until 5:20. We found this out as we sat in a consultation room she had been called into at 2:30, and where she changed in, as she couldn't get a room in the outpatient ward right away due to overcrowding. At least, once we knew surgery was going to be late, we could inform our child care people we would be home late. We had some more waiting before finally being called into an outpatient room.
We met the anesthesiologist, who explained what he would be doing etc. And then, after mistaking the patient monitor for a flat screen TV (thought it looked funky) and getting a nurse to come in, my wife more or less kicked me out. So, while she waited and did some sit ups, I took a walk. Now we used to live in downtown Brooklyn/Brooklyn Heights when younger and used to wander the city but foot often on weekends and I decided to repeat the experience. So from York and E.66th St, I wandered up to 92nd Street & Park Ave. I stopped for a slice of real NYC pizza on Second Ave somewhere in the 80s, seeing first hand what some merchants have been complaining about, that their stories are buried behind construction equipment for the Second Ave subway (no idea how those businesses can survive as pedestrian traffic is routed away from their doors) before continuing on my mission. Our wedding anniversary is this weekend and I wanted to find a nice piece of jewelery for my wife and there is no better place than Madison Ave on the Upper East Side.
Perhaps I should have specified that I wanted a piece that would be less than our mortgage payment. While we make a nice living, I forgot we don't make a Madison Ave living. Sheesh. Fortunately I finally stumbled upon one of those old NYC type of throwback stores -- an upscale, old fashioned pharmacy, with sales clerks and a vast fragrance selection. Reminded me of the little pharmacy that was in my old neighborhood that also offered that rare thing these days -- customer service. With just a few questions (after I told her I had no idea what perfume my wife wears, heck I don't even know what I wear as my wife buys all my cologne) she was able to pick out a $100 perfume that my wife later told me was perfect.
Unfortunately I wandered a little bit more than I realized and I got back to the hospital just as my wife was being taken into surgery for her procedure. While that did give me another chance for a last minute trip to Bloomindales for a last chance for the jewelery I was looking for -- I basically just sat down with my book for the wait. The nurse said the surgery should take about 50 minutes, so I could expect to speak with the surgeon in about an hour. One hour came. Nothing. 6:30 came. Nothing. My phone rang, it was mother-in-law. I told her my wife was still in surgery. She told me she would call the house and speak to our children.
And then I waited some more. 6:45. Still nothing. And that is when I began to get a little nervous. Fortunately, as I was about to bite some one's head off, the staff came for me and told me my wife was in recovery and the surgery went well. Whew. I called home, spoke to our son, and told him mom was doing OK. He was relieved. And of course he hung up before I could speak to our daughter or sitter. Kids.
The surgeon got held up so they eventually brought me to the recovery room. My wife was alert and talking, unlike my grogginess after I had wisdom teeth removed, she said she was wide awake alert as soon as the drugs keeping her sedated were removed. The nurse gave her some basic instructions and then the surgeon came in.
The surgery went very well, he said. The tumor, though over 1cm, was small and he got all of it plus clean margins. The tumor was in the skin and he only took one lymph node. Pending on the lab reports, he said the tumor was Stage I and he believed that this would be it. Whew. What a relief. If you told me 6 weeks ago I'd be happy to have my wife's breast cancer staged as a one I would have thought you were crazy. Funny how fast your world can change.
We left the hospital and walked up to First Avenue looking for a bite to eat as my wife was starving, having not eaten all day. We soon found a nice, Irish pub -- they type of place we used to frequent when we were in law school and didn't have the parenthood pressures and responsibilities that put those days to an end for us a long time ago. We looked at then menu, considered our usual healthy meals, then said to hell with it, we wanted hamburgers. Nice big, juicy, greasy hamburgers. I also had a beer (wife was still on Vicodin). I gave my wife her anniversary gift a little early, which made her extremely happy. The beer and food arrived and we devoured our burgers with glee. While we ate and drank, we felt a huge weight lift off our shoulders. Though we still don't what is next, we felt like we were free of what has been keeping us down for the last month. Best dammed hamburger I had in the last 15 years.
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