or Lisa is a freakin Trooper!!!
The day of the procedure came and we headed to the clinic. We hailed an auto-rikshaw, which is basically a 3-wheeled covered moped. Has the horsepower of a squirrel on acid. They have a taxi meter, but of all the ‘shaws we took. None worked. They are all stuck on 10 rupees. 25 Cents. I usually gave the 50 rupees. Just to be nice. Some of these drivers actually live in their rickshaw.
So we get to the clinic, and Lisa is given a gown, and the film crew get scrubs. I’m standing there with my thumb in my tukus, asking where my scrubs are. Seems there is not enough room in the operating theater for the husband. Room for Dr.? Check. Room for 2 nurses? Check. Room for Camera-operating Documentarian? Check. Director of Documentary? Check. Husband? Get back in there and get us a sample. We’ll see you soon. Success! and he thought I might not be able to provide on cue! HA!
So Lisa is under for about 45 minutes, and they bring her to a small recovery room. She is groggy for 2 hours coming out of it. She never has done well with anesthesia.
But when she’s up, we head back to the hotel. Now, we take an auto-rikshaw back and let me tell you this. The suspension system on these “vehicles” is non-existant. Imagine, if you can, having a doctor poke around your insides like a drunk Roto-Rooter technician. Then you must sit on a skateboard and roll downhill on a cobblestone street. You got that image? Welcome to Lisa’s world. She didn’t complain much and when we got back to the hotel, she slept the sleep of the angels.
God knows I love her and the lengths she has gone through to be a mother to my children are extrordinary. Bless you Lisa.