He left his daughter a message on Saturday, giving her a brief overview of what was going on, failing to mention how dangerous the surgery could be, reassuring her that he would be fine and there was no reason to worry or come see him.
He hoped his voice didn't betray him, because he sure didn't believe it.
Monday morning came far too early, and not just in the sense that it was dark out as he drove to the hospital.
He checked in and was sent to a pre-op ward, where he was fitted with wires, sensors, and a cannula in his hand.
It was nearing eight, and he'd begun to convince himself that Ellie wasn't actually coming, that it was only something she'd said to be nice. Of course, just as he was going through that emotional roundabout, she waltzed through the door.
"Sorry I'm late," she said. "I had to get grapes." She brandished the bag and grinned at him.
He frowned. "Can't eat anything. Can't even drink."
"I know that," she scolded, swatting him slightly. "They're for later."
He nodded. "Where are the boys?" he asked.
"Olly's watching them for the day," she said, flipping through a pamphlet absentmindedly.
He made a humming noise.
"This is some heavy reading," she commented, referring to a pamphlet addressing the pros and cons of active and passively fixated leads.
"Great for going to sleep to," he replied, bored of them already, examining the probe on his finger.
She flipped through another couple of pamphlets before looking back to him, just as he was about to remove the probe to see how it worked.
"Oi, stop that!" she hissed, swatting his hand away.
"Ow!" he moaned.
"Well don't be such a child then."
He scowled at her.
She changed the subject. "So what exactly are you having done."
He took a deep breath. "Dual chamber, rate responsive, bipolar, steroid... covered or something, and actively fixed. General anaesthesia because they anticipate cutting me open more than they usually hope to."
She looked at him to see if he was kidding.
"Oh. Well."
"What's that?" he asked, eyeing a nurse injecting something into the newly hooked up bag of fluids connected to his hand.
"A mild sedative. We'll be taking you in a minute."
He glanced up at Ellie, silently pleading for her to not make a big deal out of it.
"Just don't die, alright? I don't know how I'd break it to Tom. He's actually quite fond of you."
"I'd begun to suspect so," he said seriously, nodding at her.
She punched him lightly on the arm. "Don't be a smart ass."
He shrugged and they begun to roll his bed away. "It just comes naturally."
One of the nurses who was moving alongside his bed bent over him to check on a monitor and smiled. "Is she your wife?"
"Miller?" Alec asked in disbelief. "No. We work, well worked, I guess, together."
She nodded. "Of course," she said with a knowing smile.
Alec shook his head. Like he needed more to worry about right now.
The sedative was obviously working, since his head was growing foggy, but not a bad foggy like he got when his heart was racing, but a comfortable, soothing fog.
He barely noticed as they transferred him to a different bed surrounded by a large piece of machinery and as people in masks gathered round.
A man put a mask on his face and told him to count backwards from ten.
He only made it to eight.