The drive to the hospital from the clinic is the only thing that is truly blurry about that day. I remember trying to keep her calm while I was in total crisis mode. We went in and they started prepping my wife for surgery almost immediately. I remember that the prep staff didn't take us seriously that she does not do well with needles. They eventually got her plugged in and they took her to surgery. I then waited.
I have gone through a few trials in my life and I have done more than my fair share of crisis management, but never in all those experiences combined can I ever remember the amount of powerlessness that I felt. My partner who I am supposed to protect, honor, love, serve, etc. was wheeled away by strangers for emergency surgery. I was left in a lobby. I sat. I paced. I stared at the TV that was in the lobby. I walked the ground floor of that hospital. Eventually, I called my supervisor to let her know that we had made it to the hospital, that my wife was in surgery and to just do a check in. She assured me all was well. She then said that she had collected my work group and told them what had happened. She had told them we were pregnant. She told them of the loss. She told them of the surgery. I was shocked beyond words. All I could muster out was "[Supervisor] I really wish you wouldn't have done that." Her silence that followed acknowledged the potential mistake in the confidentiality violation. I hung up the phone.
*Before I proceed, I do want to acknowledge that the supervisor and I have made amends and it is all good. However, that took a bit of a process. I shall now continue on with the part without the process.*
I can only liken my state after hanging up the phone with my supervisor to the way Jack Nicholson was unraveling in the Overlook in the classic film The Shining. I was uttering half sentences and gesturing wildly while pacing back and forth through a hospital corridor. Livid is an understatement.
The last post mentioned that we were very quiet about who we talked to - hardly anyone knew of our ordeal. My mom and dad didn't know, but now my work colleagues (some of whom I didn't necessarily connect well with) knew before my parents. The whole department knew. They knew about our struggle. They knew of our family matters, our secret! They knew our intimate details. "Jack Nicholson arms" flapping and snapping...wildly. It's comical to look back at and I imagine if I was watching myself from another hospital couch I would have cracked up. But I was full of rage and devoid of humor.
Once I got through seeing quite a bit of red, I called the one colleague other than my boss who knew of our recent struggles, let's call him Karl. I had to hear it from someone else that everyone knew. He quietly confirmed that the office knew. I could tell he was pretty upset for me - I love that guy. Anyway, knowing our office was "touchy feely," I told Karl any plans of cards, balloons and/or flowers absolutely had to be cancelled (and I got the impression I stopped something from happening): why in the world would we want acknowledgement for something we didn't want others to know and something we would quite definitely never forget? Second, I asked him to ask another colleague who was pregnant to give us some distance.
When you are not pregnant and you want to be, everyone else is pregnant or has a child they want to show off. Our colleague was very preggers and it drove us nuts how much everyone was (seemingly) constantly talking about it. I asked our friend to make sure the pregnant colleague not contact us. Karl came through and was a major help through the next couple of days. At the moment, I thanked him and continued my pacing, but at this point I had a new problem to distract me from the emergency surgery: when my wife gets done with surgery, do I tell her that "everybody knows?"
