It's just another Friday in my life!!
A few months ago, it was decided that my three-something daughter was going to have her tonsils and adenoids removed. Those enlarged body parts tend to contribute to ear infections, difficulty breathing through your nose and ceasing to breathe while sleeping. This past Friday was the big day. I was off from work and the other kids were with their grandma I think. There were a lot of rules prior to leaving in the morning. One was, nothing to eat after 1AM. The other, nothing to drink after 5:30AM for a 9:30AM surgery.
Here's a chronicle of that day.
6:00AM: Woke up 45 minutes later than planned. Now the girl had a forced fast of dehydration the entire morning thanks to her parents [read father].
7:30AM: Somehow it takes 90 minutes for three people to take a shower and get dressed. My wife and I do not eat or drink anything either because our daughter isn't allowed too. I use this same type of empathy when my wife is pregnant, when she wants an Oreo Cookie Blizzard at 8:30 in the evening, I eat one too. My daughter dresses like any beautiful princess does on her way to invasive outpatient surgery. Her white church sandals, a Disney princess dress, a long sleeve pajama top and a hoodie. She completes this ensemble by accessorizing with a pink felt Easter bag and a very very loved [read frumpy] Care Bear. We get in the car and back out the drive-way.
7:32AM: I get back in the car because we [read I] did not get my daughter's cup.
7:34AM: I get back in the car because the cup we [read I] got has a straw and it would probably hurt if she drank. Plus it was not her Dora the Explorer cup.
7:36AM: I get back in the car because we [read I] got the WRONG Dora the Explorer Cup.
8:50AM: The girl plays in the toy area not knowing what events are to unfold in the next half hour with a boy who seemingly is aware of his similar fate. When his name is called he takes the Lego's in the toy area and builds Panic Room for himself.
9:25AM: We're in the, uh.. I guess you call it "prep area". She gets in her gown, some coloring pages, and a cup of crayons with three greens, a purple and two yellows. Seriously?!?! They also give her some medicine that makes her "feel no pain". Her depth perception is the first thing to go as she tries to hand me something and she slaps me in the face. She finds this to be funniest thing she's ever done, then commits to doing it a few more times before I break out the video option on my phone. Her antics are not nearly as funny of hit worthy as David goes to the Dentist, but it's funny to watch her laugh as she tries to keep her head up as it is getting heavier by the second. (after posting edit: I'm having trouble getting the video uploaded because my cell phone SUCKS and I'm changing it the second that T-Mobile won't screw me over)
9:50AM: She's been carted back to the OR and we go back to the waiting room. I'm watching FOX News as The Hot Wife brings up breakfast. I'm enthralled in the story about a woman who has sued her husband who left her after 50 years of marriage for a woman 30 years younger. She was awarded $500,000 bucks for his indiscretions. Unknowingly to me, The Hot Wife was calling me across the waiting room requesting help. Apparently she dropped one of the [read mine] egg sangwiches and I was not paying attention to her cries for help in the clean up [of my egg sangwich].
10:10AM: The doctor came to the waiting room and said the surgery went well. We head back to recovery area as the girl is coming out of anesthesia. She's not taking it well. Her reaction compares to that of Wolverine when he comes out of the adamantium bonding process.
She must have taken out a couple of nurses and an intern because her recovery nurse was not very pleasant and obviously held a grudge because of her clawed up compatriots conditions were worsening. Her bedside demeanor was utter crap. The Hot Wife got on to her for the way she was talking to my daughter. I was excited because I was no longer the focus of her annoyance from the egg sangwich debacle.
11:10AM: I hold my daughter as we are pushed out of the Surgery Center in a wheelchair. I'm excited again because this is my very first wheelchair ride in my near 35 years of existence. I feel like Professor X from X-Men except with hair and a more limited mind control ability. Which only consists of making the elevator doors open and close after the nurse pushes the button.
12:30PM: We've been home and I need to go pick up the medication. For some strange reason, we feel it's okay for my post-surgery daughter go with me to pick up the meds. I put her in a basket and go to the pick-up counter. The pharmacy tech tells me that one of the meds will cause drowsiness and I retort with a "so she won't be able to drive?" Right when I say this, I hear a HACK from my daughter. I turn around and she just vomited all over herself. The Tech is nice enough to respond to my corny joke oblivious to my daughters heaving all over his store.
12:45PM: I rush back home with the girl, tell The Hot Wife and it's time to give the anti-nausea medication. Finagrin. Finagrin comes in a couple forms, one is pills. The problem with the pill form is that if you are throwing chunks, how are you going to keep it down? So that is why this other form was prescribed to us.
I'll take Suppository Form for 600, Alex!
Actually, I do not know of anyone that will voluntarily take this form, but it had to be. With a lot of restraining from The Hot Wife and her mother, I got to know my daughter in a form that will never be spoken between us for as long as we both shall live.
1:00PM: Everyone is tired. Everyone that is allowed to eat is hungry. So I talk my wife into a sangwich from Quiznos. Since I have a big family, I hate spending federal reserve amounts of money at fast food places. So I suggested the $4 Torpedo Sangwich. It's my current sangwich of choice. But everytime I go get a sangwich, I think of this commercial. It's really creepy.
2:00PM: I get home from picking up a couple get well gifts as well. The Hot Wife is asleep as well as everyone else. I enjoy my Torpedo, not like the oven in that commercial does. When my wife finally eats hers, she's not so impressed. Maybe it's because I dropped hers on the floor this time.
The rest of day played out like one would expect. The days that have followed have been back and forth. The Girl gets her popsicles and ice cream. She wants her medication when it's not time for it. So I have to melt popsicles and give her the liquid. She thinks that it's medicine and she's ok for a bit. She's usually a tough trooper, but this procedure has pushed her to her limits. I feel bad, because I've never had mine taken out. I've never had the number of procedures that my children have had to have in their short lives.
This is one of those things that I wish that I could have some sort of Daddy power that I could take away their pain and make it my own. Just so they won't have to have it.
But I'm not so sure about the suppository.
Take care now, bye bye then.