For months I had planned to be at a movie theater on April 29th. And I was. But rather than seeing The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy I saw…Robots. Again. But after the ordeal the little man went through on Thursday, it was a small concession indeed. Let me back up for a moment, to Wednesday. When I got home from work that afternoon it became clear that I’d been overly-optimistic…about how much better the little man was feeling. Antibiotics and painkillers can only do so much. And while I was away the little man had, uncharacteristically, put himself to bed for a nap. When he woke up there was much crankiness, even though I’d brought home some of his favorite food.
The crankiness I can deal with. But Thursday morning there was much confusion, when we brought him to the Children’s Hospital. It was to be his third surgical procedure, but he is blissfully unaware of the first two, as they both occurred in the first year of his life. He’s going to remember this one. After much waiting around, signing of forms, changing into hospital PJs, and some playing, it was finally his turn.
The husband and I went back with him as he hopped up onto a hospital bed. The induction area seemed so small. All of the equipment, the bed, the anesthesiologist and assistant, two parents, and a designated bubble blower were crammed into what was essentially a doorway…the space between the waiting room, and the hallway that led to the operating room. The lad allowed himself to be distracted by the bubbles, but I could see questions and concern in his eyes as he tried to make sense of this absurd situation. After a moment he was asked to lie down. I felt like I was betraying him, holding his hand as he went under. Especially since I knew what they’d be doing, beginning with the threading of a breathing tube up one tiny nostril and down into his lungs, which would give him a bloody nose. But it was all for the greater good. In the end the dentist removed one tooth, filled three cavities, put in four crowns, applied sealants and a fluoride treatment, and performed one pulpotomy. When we met him in the recovery room the little man groggily announced “my mouth feels silly”. I’m sure it did. He looked so small and sad in the hospital bed. After a time I was allowed to pick him up, and kick back in a big recliner, to hold him while he watched Babe. When he seemed to be feeling better, and ready to go home, we changed him back into his own clothing. But all the moving about, and the water he’d had to drink, caused him to vomit up some blood. Totally normal, we were told, but still unsettling. Since then we’ve been home, recovering. After the week we’ve had we’re all worn out, and our house is so filthy it looks like it’s been overrun by squatters who have been camping out for weeks on end. So I think a quiet weekend is in store for us, with a focus on soft foods and household chores. And, if we’re feeling up to it, and the weather is cooperating, we might just swing by the May Day festival tomorrow.
Bonus: Just found out that a former co-worker of mine is knocked up (via Pussy Ranch). Neat.
Plus: Le Tigre teaming up with Paris Hilton? Huh.
And: If you haven’t seen it yet…New Order performing Love Will Tear Us Apart. Bittersweet.
