Surgery and Lightning Strikes

The night before T went into hospital for surgery, we had thunderstorms. We watched the heavy dark cloud boil and counted the seconds between the lightning and the thunder. The storm was getting nearer and nearer. Then there was a lightning strike and a huge rumble of thunder overhead. The lights went out and all our appliances went dead. We looked at each other. Was this some sort of omen? Then the power came back on. We checked the house. Everything seemed to be working, apart from the telephone. Slowly, the storm moved on and we went to bed with torches at the bedside. The next day, I took her into hospital.

T was having a planned abdominal operation. While she was waiting to be taken into theatre, we sent each other text messages. Then her messages suddenly stopped. And I had to wait. I paced around the house and tried to do the normal routine. But I was all on my own. It wasn’t reassuring. It only emphasised who was no longer with me.

Before, it had been me getting the operations. I was afraid, of course. Your pulse is sky high when you get onto the operating table. Everyone else is covered up in gowns and masks. They’re waiting to stick knives into you. Then the anaesthetist inserts something at your wrist and you’re out until you come round in the recovery room.

T had gone through the terrible ordeal of waiting three times for me. And all three operations were uncertain of the outcome. I marveled at her mental strength and stoicism. The hours ticked by. After four had elapsed I was almost pulling my hair out. Then a text message. She was alive and well. The operation had been a success. She’d spend two nights in hospital and then she could come home.

Eventually, the BT engineer came. The lightning had blown two master sockets inside the house, the cable at the gable end of the house and at the telegraph pole in the road. He spent an hour replacing the sockets and fixing the cable. With the landline working, I tried our three handsets. None worked. The lightning had blown those as well. But it hadn’t struck either of us. We’d both come through the ordeal. And now we could give thanks.