The Gus Diaries

Part 20

Surgery

It was a rough night at Grandma Jen’s. I don’t think I got anything that could be called a decent night’s sleep. I couldn’t wait to get to the hospital. The morning of the procedure we arrived shortly after MJ was taken into surgery. I was kind of sorry I missed seeing him again. Dad was pacing in the special waiting room just outside the operating rooms. He looked like a caged lion.

“Dad,” I touched his shoulder.

“Oh, hi, Sonny Boy. Did you just get here?”

“Yes, we didn’t even have breakfast. Grandma Jen and Tucker are picking some stuff up at the cafeteria.” I hesitated and then continued, “Dad, he’s going to be okay, isn’t he?”

“Of course he is. This surgeon is the best and he said that the MRI showed a clear path to the blood vessels that have to be removed…as clear a path as you can get when dealing with the brain.”

Dad sounded convincing but he looked like shit and the pacing was almost frightening.

Soon Grandma and Tucker came back with muffins, bagels, butter, cream cheese, coffees and juices for all of us, including Dad. He looked at them and laughed, “Does every loving mother think the answer is food?”

“I guess I’ve been hanging around Deb long enough that the policy sunk in permanently.” Dad and Grandma half-smiled at each other and Dad accepted the coffee and took half a bagel with nothing on it. I don’t think he ever ate it, but he knew taking it would make Grandma happy.

About two hours later Uncle Michael, Uncle Ben, Grandpa Carl and Grandma Debbie showed up.

“We had to wait for Ben to finish teaching his fucking class. Did we miss anything?”

“What the fuck is there to miss?” Dad looked at Grandma Deb as if she had a third eye. “Justin is in surgery and we’ve been partaking in shitty hospital coffee that rivals that of the diner.”

“Brian.” Uncle Ben thankfully cut off Dad’s panicked rage.

“Yes, Professor?”

“How long has Justin been in surgery and have they given you an update yet?”

“Forever, and they fucking haven’t.” Dad started pacing more quickly.

Then Uncle Michael approached Dad slowly. “Brian, come with me down the hall. I want to check out the vending machines near the elevator.” Dad nodded and followed him. The thought of a candy bar suddenly sounded pretty good so I started to head there myself.

I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard what sounded like my father crying. “Mikey he can’t leave me. I know this should be easier than the last time but it’s not. It’s worse. We have a life. He IS my life.” I was chilled and warmed at the same time hearing Dad’s words.

“I know, I know. Remember what you told me when I thought Ben might die all those years ago? He’s not gonna die…that’s what you said. Well Justin’s not gonna die! He has many more years ahead of him. He’s JT for fuck’s sake. As long as he knows Rage is waiting for him he can get through anything that gets thrown in his way.” Uncle Michael was holding onto Dad’s shoulders and when Dad started to shake harder he grabbed him and held him close. Sometimes Uncle Michael really is terrific. He knows just what to say, where Dad’s concerned.

I walked back to the rest of our little group and thought about how much love my Dad had in his heart, especially for Justin. Nothing could possibly get in the way of that…could it?

About two-and-a-half hours later a nurse (I think) came out of the operating room area. She was wearing scrubs. She walked over to our group and looked around. “Which one of you is Brian Kinney?”

Dad practically tossed his seat over getting up so fast, “That’s me. How’s Justin?”

“The doctor told me to relay a message to you…Justin will now, and for many years to come, be a great artist and an even better husband and father.” She smiled, obviously knowing the doctor’s MO for telling family members a patient came through with flying colors. “The doctor will be out to speak with you himself after he is sure that Justin is settled in the recovery room to his satisfaction.”

Dad quietly responded, “Thank you.”

After the nurse disappeared down the hall Dad turned to me. I stood up and was standing right next to him. He grabbed me, lifted me off the ground, spun me around once and yelled, “Yeah! That’s my Sunshine!”

Grandma Jen and Tucker kissed, Grandpa Carl got a major bear hug from Grandma Debbie, and Uncle Michael and Uncle Ben kissed too. I wished at that moment that I could paint or sketch like MJ, because I would love to have drawn a picture describing the words love and relief. I guess I’ll just have to rely on words, but at this moment they seem so inadequate.

Dad just held me tight and then kissed me on top of the head as we waited for the go ahead to see MJ.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
 

MJ was really drowsy when he finally was returned to his hospital room. We were allowed to go in two at a time for a short period, except for Dad who had arranged to stay there throughout and had paid a shit-load of money to use the other bed in the room for the night. The hospital wasn’t full so they were happy to accommodate him.

MJ’s head was bandaged all around, like a turban, and there was a tube running out of it to drain any fluids. He was sleeping and Dad told me he would be heavily sedated for a couple of days. I just watched his chest move up and down and was happy to know that soon I’d have My Justin back with me, right where he belongs.

When Grandma Jen told me it was time to go home I started to leave and heard Dad say to MJ, “You just love looking incredibly young compared to me, don’t you? I’ve aged ten years today and was practically force fed hospital shit that they call food.

“And Justin, I know I told you this, this morning, but it’s worth repeating, you are my everything. So come back soon, because I feel incomplete without you here harassing me…and loving me.”

I closed the door and left feeling almost happy for the first time in five days. Now we just had to wait for MJ to wake up and start recovering to complete the deal.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
 

When Grandma Jen and I arrived at the hospital on Saturday morning we quietly walked in the direction of MJ’s room. It was still early, but neither of us could sleep so we decided to just return as early as possible.

Since we knew exactly where the room was we didn’t stop at the desk, just to be told that we were too early for visiting hours. Grandma Jen shared her philosophy, “Some rules really are made to be broken and this one, under these circumstances, is definitely one.” Then she added, “And my guess, from past experience, is that your father would be the first to agree that designated visiting hours in a hospital is bullshit.”

I looked at her and just smiled.

When we arrived at the room I quietly opened the door. If it had been anyone else I may have been surprised by what I saw.

MJ was lying in bed, fast asleep and Dad was sleeping in the arm chair next to his bed, rather than in the bed that he had arranged for himself. His head rested on MJ’s leg and somehow MJ’s hand rested on Dad’s head.

I looked at Grandma and she motioned that we should walk out equally as quietly. We went to the cafeteria and got three large cups of coffee and a whole bunch of sugar packets and little creamers. We also picked up some food, as well, and then went back up to the room.

“Grandma, why do you keep getting all this food for Dad when you know he hardly eats any of it?”

“It’s part of the Mother Manual and since your Dad is one of my sons, I have to make sure I do my part.” Then she gave my shoulders a quick squeeze.

As we arranged the food and beverages on the hospital table on the empty side of the room, Dad began to stir. Then when I looked closer I also saw MJ’s fingers start to stroke Dad’s head.

Dad lifted his head and barely acknowledged our presence. “Sunshine, are you ready to wake up? I’m here. I never left and I won’t leave. I promise. You can wake up. You’re going to be okay.”

MJ’s eyelids started to flutter and then slowly open. Dad looked at MJ and when MJ finally was able to focus he said in a raw voice, “I know you’re here. I knew you would be.” Then he added, “These are good drugs they’re pumping in, no pain.”

“See Justin, I always taught you what’s important in life…including where to find the best drugs.” MJ smiled weakly and Grandma coughed.

She winked at Dad and walked over to MJ. “Hi, honey. I always knew you were strong and determined. You came through like a champ.”

“Hi Mom.”

At this point a nurse came in and when she saw that MJ was awake she started taking what they call all his vitals. Apparently everything checked out because she didn’t even bother to kick us out.

“Mr. Taylor, due to the pain meds in your IV-bag, you’ll only feel like you have a headache, at most. If you feel any additional pain, press the call button. We have you on an alternate medication to morphine, as you’re allergic.”

Then Dad began to question the nurse, but she cut him off saying the doctor was on his way and would answer all his specific questions.

When the doctor arrived Grandma and I sat on the extra bed and the curtain around MJ was drawn. Dad insisted on staying for the exam and with an okay from MJ that was fine with the doctor.

The drainage tube would be removed by the end of the day and if MJ continued to recover as scheduled he’d be able to go home by Thursday. Any complications would, of course, change that, but none were expected.

The first thing the doctor did was ask MJ to make a fist with his right hand. Dad’s response was, “Nice job, Justin, now don’t use it on me. Although I’m sure that Cody would be proud.”

“Fuck off,” was all we heard from MJ.

Grandma laughed. She saw my very confused face, “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll explain sometime later.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
 

Each day after school and work, Dad or Grandma Jen would pick me up. We started bringing in dinner to eat while MJ got his meal tray. He was on a very special diet so we couldn’t give him anything extra and he didn’t seem to mind. Apparently the anesthesia remains in the system for several days and slows everything including the metabolism.

Every day that went by with a successful report from the doctor was a day closer to taking MJ home to Britin. His turban-bandage was removed and his stitches were in the shape of an arc. The doctor assured him that when his hair grew back it would cover the resulting scar, which would be in the form of a very thin white line.

The day that MJ was to leave the hospital Dad had to go fill out a whole shit-load of papers, and he also felt the need to review the home plan with the doctor, once again, in the hospital consultation room. “I don’t want to fuck anything up and even in that hospital gown Justin is too distracting for me to pay attention to the doctor.”

I stayed in the room with MJ and looked at him.

“Thank you, MJ.”

“For what?”

“Letting me know what was going on. I would have been so much more nervous and scared if you hadn’t let me listen to the doctor when he spoke with you and Dad.”

“You’re welcome, Gus. You know it’s funny. I was going to thank you.”

“Thank me, what did I do?”

“You were there for your father. And when you’re there for him, you’re there for me.”

“You two really do have some weird connection. I hope I can find that someday.”

“You’ll find it; just don’t be afraid of it when you do.”

Then I sat on the edge of MJ’s bed. He was dressed now, looking forward to leaving soon. “MJ, you do know how much I love you, right?”

“I think I do Gus.”

“Good, because it’s important that you know.”

We gently hugged and MJ brushed his hand through my hair. I don’t think I ever felt a better touch in my whole life.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
 

It’s been a couple of weeks since MJ’s surgery and things are beginning to get back to normal at Britin. MJ still has several weeks of recovery, plenty of limitations (including no driving for a few more weeks) and physical therapy, but he and Dad are so happy together…it’s great to see.

When I think about it, doctors really have the power to create a special kind of happiness for people that they weren’t able to do 100 years ago.

Maybe I’ll look into becoming a doctor. It’s a good thing I like science, but I better pick up my grades in math.

 

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