Princess stared at the beeper for 20 minutes until it finally vibrated and glowed to life, at which point she took off running for the intake door. Never mind good ol' mom who needed to gather the backpack full of stuffed animals and blankets that Princess INSISTED on bringing. Thank goodness the nurse stopped her at the door and gave me a chance to catch up before we proceeded to the lounge area where they took her vitals and briefed us on the procedure.
We met the entire staff of nurses and doctors and they did everything they could to answer our questions and make us feel comfortable.
Princess, in her favorite penguin jammies and robe, picked out dangly earrings as her anesthesia prize. It was like the doctor's knew her deepest desires and was going to make this whole process worthwhile.
We added the prize to the backpack and changed into her surgical gown. The nurse took her hand and led her into the other room and I returned to the waiting room where it was my turn to stare at the beeper and wait for the "patient doing fine" button to come to life.
As I waited, other doctors came out to meet family members and give the status report on their loved ones. I couldn't help but keep glancing at the beeper waiting for my good news. Maybe 20 minutes had passed when they called my name over the intercom and I gathered up the backpack and reported to the front desk.
The nurse at the counter asked me to wait in a small room off to one side of the entrance and informed me that the doctor would be with me shortly. The room was all white with four chairs and a small table. No decorations, no windows and only one door. I went in, sat down and continued to wait. As a nurse passed by, she saw me in the room and stopped to shut the door. I looked down at the beeper and still no "patient doing fine" light. That's when the panic set in. This was the "bad news room." I wasn't going to get a "patient doing fine" light.
I texted Tom the new status as fast as I could trying to beat the tears that were forming in my eyes. Tom, ever practical, assured me that she hadn't been back long enough to really even get started with the procedure. I tried to breathe and remember that they just needed more time to hit the "patient doing fine" button.
The funny thing about fear is that it slows down time. It's true. What seemed like hours passed. I became aware of how hot the room was and of how thirsty I had become. Maybe they were hoping I passed out before they had to give me the bad news.
At last, a fresh burst of air came into the room as the doctor opened the door with his arm full of papers and folders. It took everything I had to sit still and not start screaming at him. I took one more glance at the beeper. Still no "patient doing fine" light. I bit my lip as he sat down and started talking.
The first words out of his mouth saved his life, "Oh she is doing just fine, Mom. What a little angel you have." I started breathing again and he proceeded to explain the schedule and the medicines that would be our lives for the next two weeks.
And then I got to see her.
She was a little angel. She didn't cry or freak out. We used some of the sign language that we had practiced for two weeks so that I knew when she wanted water or when she was cold. She was heavily medicated for a couple of hours, but did a great job drinking fluids and even ate a popsicle while in the recovery room. The white thing on her neck was actually an ice pack. She insisted on her blue bandage being in this picture. They just used the bandage to cover up where the IV entered her arm, but it was a badge of honor for her. After a couple of hours we were sent home. I never did get the "patient doing fine" light, or any other light for that matter. I carefully explained that there was room for imporovement on their customer satisfaction survey.
I was so excited to see her eat spaghetti that night. I was prepared for her to not want to eat, but seeing her suck down noodles warmed my heart. Just gave me hope that she was going to recover faster than expected.
For the next 14 days we lived by this schedule. Pain medicine every 4 hours. It was like having a newborn again. What a great reminder why I am not having any more children. After 3 days, we were able to make it for longer periods of time without medicine.
Day one after her surgery. While she was feeling much better she wasn't really able do anything. I went out and got her some fake press on nails. They were suppose to change color in the sunlight, but didn't. She still liked them.
The second day of recovering, she was talking my ears off so I decided to take her up to the school to get her assignments so we could do them at home. The short trip to the school and back home turned out to be too much for her. She almost fell asleep at the table while eating lunch. I felt so horrible. I completely overestimated how much this minor procedure had taken out of her.
The two weeks of recovery dragged on. You can only watch so many movies and so much tv despite Prince's desire to test that theory. Princess lived off of applesauce, scrambled eggs, pancakes, protein drinks and sherbet. I caught her on more than one occasion standing at the window watching her brother ride his bike with the neighborhood kids while she looked on. I felt so bad for her. The next morning it was Prince who broke down and cried at daycare because he didn't think it was fair that she got a whole week off of school and all this special attention while she was recovering.
One the plus side, she is maxing out her levels on her Facebook games, Club Penguin and Pop Tropica. I offered to have Prince's tonsils taken out as well, but he turned that down.
Princess was so happy to return to school. Since she was still recovering, she wasn't able to go on the field trip to the Memphis Zoo, but I plan to make that up to her in a big way.
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