under the knife

I found out today that my little Grady monster needs to have surgery. I have known this was an extreme possibility for a while now but have avoided talking or thinking about it in hopes that it would go away. I know, denial is not just a river in Egypt, but it has been a nice place to visit for quite some time now. Now before you get your internet selves worked up into a tizzy, oh wait - that is just me, he just has to have his adenoids removed and tubes put in his ears. (JCR - I know you are feeling me here) I also know that millions of kids have tubes and undergo this surgery everyday, yada yada yada. BUT, they aren't my kid. I was Ok with having the tubes and was prepared for that outcome. After the winter my poor little guy has had I think I would have begged for it. It was the 'adenoid removal' part I was not expecting. When he said those words I instantly had flashbacks and balled myself up in the fetal position in the corner of the examination room. That may be a little extreme and I surely would have done it if Grady's ENT was not a super hottie!!

I thanked his pediatrician the last time we were there for recommended the orthopedic she did because he was so cute. She laughed and agreed. I will have to thank her again for the ENT eye candy! John laughs at me every time as I get dolled up for Grady's appointments.

J- "You do remember I am coming with you right?"
K- "What, oh yeah, I know honey."
J- "You do remember we are going about OUR child?"
K- "Yes I know."
J- "And he IS married."
K- "Yeah, yeah. You're killin' me here. Can't a girl dream?? You sure you don't need to take that conference call or something??"

Talk about tangent - sorry! Back to me in the fetal position - oh yes, it is all coming back to me now. I was six years old and had to have my tonsils and adenoids removed. My parents sugar coated it and said everything was going to be fine and I was going to feel great afterwards. Heck, they promised me a week of ice cream to dull the pain. And it was all fine and dandy until little miss 'nurse in training' came in and tried to get blood from my arm. She missed, not once, not twice but four fricking times. On the fourth try she broke the needle in my arm and all hara-kiri broke loose. It was an ugly scene. "Will the parents of blah blah please come to room 103 IMEDIATELY!!" bellowed the intercom. You can imagine their proud parent moment when they walked in to see their beloved six year old daughter strapped to a bed, screaming bloody murder and being held down by four nurses and a doctor. They finally rolled me over and sedated me in my arse to calm me down and draw blood. Thus my immense fear of needles was born. (not tattoo needles mind you, just the kind that draw blood) The hospital was then dumb enough to put me in a secluded recovery room so when I came to, still strapped to the bed, no one was there. I was scared and the screaming began again. Think Linda Blair in 'The Exorcist' screaming.

Yep, that was me. So since that day I have passed out every time I have had blood drawn. I always prep the nurses and warn them that I will faint and usually they will oblige and allow me to lay down while they do IT. Sometimes, if I use my pouty eyes, they will even use a pediatric needle. I know - I am pathetic. But there always is one that thinks you are exaggerating. She stopped thinking that when I took out her cart and face planted on the floor in front of three other patients. I showed her and had a shiner to prove it!!

And that leads me to today and Grady and his forthcoming surgery. I know what is in store for him and I am terrified. I will have to go with him that day but know I will be a walking freak show. Children's Hospital - I apologize ahead of time. Any chance you can slip me some more of that sedative???