We received some unwelcome news yesterday.
Dwayne's shoulder surgery has been postponed another month.
He hurt his shoulder at the end of plow season last March and has been going through the process with WCB of getting it fixed. After months of physio which I think made it worse, he finally saw the surgeon in mid-August and at the beginning of October, heard his surgery would be November 17.
All good. Couldn't come soon enough, in fact. I went and booked our New Year's trip to Atlanta.
Yesterday, the WCB booking nurse at the surgeon's office phoned and said they had to rebook a bunch of surgeries and now, ho, ho, ho, Dwayne's operation is December 15. In New Glasgow.
Prior to that, he has to go to their lab in Halifax for blood work and at another date, to be fitted with an entire-arm splint that he will wear for ten weeks.
And we leave for Atlanta on December 27! Ho, ho, ho!
Granted, it's better than waiting 2 years for surgery like non-WCB patients do but when I see that his right shoulder is three inches lower than his left and he tells me that his right hand keeps going numb, having the surgery postponed another month is hard.
My husband, however deflated he was by that bad news, did have the grace to admit after watching the day-after news reports about Sandy's devastation: "I suppose postponed shoulder surgery isn't quite as terrible, is it?"
I'm not going to tell him, either, that this could be my "Be careful what you wish for" vibe coming true: as the years go by, I kvetch more and more about Christmas and how commercial and overdone and expensive it is. Well, I guess I'm getting my very simple Christmas this year.
As long as he can kiss me on New Year's Eve and lift a glass of champagne with his left arm, I'm fine with a twig tree and a ceramic Santa from the hospital gift shop in my stocking.