Wednesday Night Update: 10:30 p.m.
HOME! We are back home. Morrie the cat is snuggling his favorite girl and we are binging on takeout food. Fingers crossed for some good sleep tonight.
Wednesday Evening Update: 7 p.m.
Meg is out of surgery!
She went back at one and six hours later we are still in the waiting room, sitting tight until we can go back and see her.
I (Emily) got to spend about 15 minutes with her in the recovery unit. It took about the same amount of time to get there in this maze of a hospital. Luckily the hallways are color-coded and I had a list of directions—nine steps!! Whew. Meg was awake and alert. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow so she was looking more like Farah Fawcett than a recovering cancer patient. She said her neck is sore and she is thirsty, but the pain isn’t too bad.
The doctor had great things to report. It’s clear the medical team is top-notch here. Meg’s program director came by to see us in the waiting area. So thoughtful of her and comforting to know Meg’s work family cares about her as much as we do (thanks to those of you reading this!). Rabbi Edie also stopped by a few times. She shared a beautiful prayer before Megan went in. I couldn’t hold the tears back, but it was just perfect and exactly what we needed.
We feel surrounded by compassion here, thanks in large part to the love so many of you are sending our way. Perspective is also everywhere we look. Many families sitting a short distance away are dealing with much more extensive surgeries and complex diagnoses. (My mom talks to everyone and it’s nearly impossible for this journalist not to eavesdrop.) Megan has been the first to point out again and again that hers is a case with much more good news than bad. For that we are so thankful.
HOME! We are back home. Morrie the cat is snuggling his favorite girl and we are binging on takeout food. Fingers crossed for some good sleep tonight.
Wednesday Evening Update: 7 p.m.
Meg is out of surgery!
She went back at one and six hours later we are still in the waiting room, sitting tight until we can go back and see her.
I (Emily) got to spend about 15 minutes with her in the recovery unit. It took about the same amount of time to get there in this maze of a hospital. Luckily the hallways are color-coded and I had a list of directions—nine steps!! Whew. Meg was awake and alert. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow so she was looking more like Farah Fawcett than a recovering cancer patient. She said her neck is sore and she is thirsty, but the pain isn’t too bad.
The doctor had great things to report. It’s clear the medical team is top-notch here. Meg’s program director came by to see us in the waiting area. So thoughtful of her and comforting to know Meg’s work family cares about her as much as we do (thanks to those of you reading this!). Rabbi Edie also stopped by a few times. She shared a beautiful prayer before Megan went in. I couldn’t hold the tears back, but it was just perfect and exactly what we needed.
We feel surrounded by compassion here, thanks in large part to the love so many of you are sending our way. Perspective is also everywhere we look. Many families sitting a short distance away are dealing with much more extensive surgeries and complex diagnoses. (My mom talks to everyone and it’s nearly impossible for this journalist not to eavesdrop.) Megan has been the first to point out again and again that hers is a case with much more good news than bad. For that we are so thankful.
Got a stealth pic while Meg and my dad weren't looking. We call them the twins...both internists, both love old people. Here they are casually discussing the stages of dementia whilst I looked on with nervous energy seeping from my pores. #Geriatrics
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