This may be a bit of a ramble since I’m killing time in a waiting room…so bear with me.

A couple of hours ago, I posted this picture to Twitter making a joke about how boring waiting for (well ANYTHING, but in this case) surgery can be; and how kids now have iPads, where my generation had to rely on paper entertainment like Mad Libs.

A couple of reactions I got from friends made me realize that I haven’t actually mentioned Oliver’s surgery today. Ooops! But there are two very good reasons for the omission. The first is that I’ve been kind of preoccupied with life (including this surgery thing) and haven’t had it in me to do any “real” writing. This would account for the heavier focus on my Wishing True page – if you were wondering about that. I’m sure Stephanie was confused when she rushed over to my blog from Twitter to find a post about…jewelry. Sorry Stephanie.

The second reason is that this “surgery” is nothing serious. Oliver has two teeth that need to come out for reasons that are too complicated/snore-inducing to get into here. Something about adult teeth coming in at an angle and crowding or something…honestly, I’m a little hazy on the details due to the complicated/snore-inducing situation. Anyway – since my first born insists on being a complicated boy in almost every way, he has to have this done in a hospital instead of the dentist office. I could tell you all about that part, but I’ll keep it brief: he MAY have a condition that would make certain types of anesthesia extremely dangerous (possibly lethal) – so the gas version of general anesthesia isn’t possible for him.

Enter the IV.

Which sounds like a super fun time for pretty much any kid. Right?

Knowing that he wouldn’t be into the idea of having a needle shoved into the top of his hand, the anesthesiologist and I had an elaborate plan that involved doping him up with some cherry flavored syrup first. As explained to me, this would make him kind of loopy and happy, and generally un-phased by things that would typically induce a grand mal seizure. So of course my response to this suggestion was, “can I have some too?”

Sadly – it was going to be a table for one as far as the drugs were concerned. But that’s probably for the best since I then had the herculean task of keeping him from trying to get up and walk around – or worse, trying to rip off the numbing patch that was placed on the top of his hand. Considering the fact that he shredded his hospital bracelet within minutes of having it snapped onto his wrist, I practially had to sit on him for the twenty minutes required for the numbing agent to take effect.

Here is what I discovered about Oliver. When he is doped up on cherry flavored happy syrup, he wants to wrestle! While his delays already make him seem a lot younger than his seven years, THIS version of Oliver brought me back to the toddler years when he needed to be physically restrained from whatever madness he had in mind. Now that he is a 75 lb (SEVENTY FIVE POUND!) boy, trying to keep him from his mission of getting up and removing that annoying patch was more like trying to getting a drunk friend to sit down while you call them a cab. It was a very “gimme my keys, man – I want my keys!” moment.

FINALLY the nurse arrived to insert the IV. But drugs aside, the iPad was the biggest help in distracting Oliver from his hand piercing. We got it from a really sweet twelve year old who told me her job was to help distract children who were waiting for surgery. Okay – so it was a more official title and job description than that…and she was at LEAST fourteen if she was a day…but either way, she was fab.

After that, I spent about 45 minutes making sure Oliver didn’t pick at the IV (because OF COURSE he had to do that) and wondering when exactly our 10:00 a.m. surgery would actually begin. By 11:00, I was starting to loose steam, and Oliver’s happy drugs were wearing off.

When our surgeon did appear with the expected apologies for her previous surgery running over time, I was happy to get off Oliver’s hospital bed to sign some forms. And like a dummy I decided that this would be the perfect time to take a break from my IV vigil and check e-mail/Twitter. Starting with Twitter, I noticed that a couple of people expressed concern for Oliver (see above). So I started to type a quick reply that all was well – nothing serious going on.

This would be the moment that Oliver chose to rip out his IV.

After I spent an hour of hanging off the side of his hosptial bed, watching his every movement, lest he do something to his IV, he actually removed the whole damn thing. I saw the spurt of blood and immediately felt like a little girl who just watched her ice cream scoop slide off the cone and onto the pavement.

No tears though. Just defeated, annoyance for the very nice staff who had no control over the fact that we waited SO LONG for this damn surgery because if they started even just 30 or 45 minutes late, he probably wouldn’t have had the opportunity to pull out his IV and I wouldn’t be feeling like I lost my ice cream cone to gravity…. SO frustrating. It made me want to scream. Instead I silently seethed. And visibly sulked.

I just wanted to make this as easy on Oliver as possible. And my efforts ended up being a big waste of time. I hate that. Even though this kind of describes life in general much of the time… It still makes me crazy.

So I watched them wheel IV-less Oliver and his iPad into the OR where they would just hold my terrified son down to re-insert the spike and try to pump anesthesia into him as quickly as possible. I could only hope that the twelve year old was able to distract him with puppets or something.

Seriously – I’m sure it was fine. Oliver is a trooper. But two hours later in the waiting room, I’m still a little pissed about it.

Also – the phone reception here is terrible! Thank god I was able to find a sketchy internet connection.

Still waiting, I decided to go get a coffee and find a restroom. The former being exceedingly less confusing than the latter. The restroom for this “family waiting area” is a one at a time kid of deal and the two people ahead of me both took approximately five hour-long turns. For the life of me, I can’t imagine what they were doing in there. Even the second guy who was holding a toddler, would have to change at least 5 diapers to justify the length of his stay. In the end, I had to go to another floor. This was a blessing in disguise since I discovered en route, that my texts to Chris finally went through.

I also got to stretch my legs and do some people watching. Hospitals provide great people watching opportunities, you know.

The noise in the cafeteria was overwhelming so I just strolled the hallways for a bit. I talked to a woman pushing a cart with not one, but two zithers. Now THAT is something you don’t see every day. Just to make sure, I asked her if they were in fact, zithers. She said yes and that was the longest conversation I’ve had with anyone who wasn’t in scrubs since 7:00 a.m.

*****

We are now in recovery!

Oliver is still out of it but his procedures went well. Teeth are extracted, spacers are inserted, and various small cavities (cringe) are filled. I’m just waiting for him to wake up.

In the meantime, I learned a few things.

First, it wasn’t two bottom molars they removed, but two top molars. I could have sworn she said bottom teeth…mother of the year!

Also – not eating anything in the morning before your child’s surgery out of solidarity (or fear that they’ll see you eating and demand food) and then not eating at the cafeteria because it’s crowded and smells funny will make you feel like a complete idiot when you are sitting in recovery at 3:00 p.m. thinking you might pass out from hunger.

Finally – the twelve year old who gave Oliver the iPad is a “Child Life Specialist.” And she’s not really twelve. But I already knew that. I’m just 40 and think anyone under the age of 25 looks like they should be selling girl scout cookies.

Oh – cookies… Hopefully we’ll get out of here soon. I’m starving.

More than anything I am grateful that my babies are all healthy. Seeing other children waiting for their own surgeries, hearing their cries as they come out of their anesthesia sleep… I don’t know how many of these kids are here for serious reasons or routine procedures like Oliver. But my heart goes out to the babies here who are suffering and the mothers and fathers who suffer with them. It’s a scary job, this parenting thing.

Oliver is waking up now. Much love to you and yours.

FINALLY – I participate in this. Typically I post something way to early or late in the week. And since I wrote this in one sitting without any interruptions (NEVER happens when I’m at home) it felt like a “Just Write” kind of post. Off to add myself to the list…

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