the surgery

I had all good intentions to post this last night - right before I crashed on the couch at 7:30. The physical and mental exhaustion of the past week(s) took its toll and I lost. Not that I am complaining! I have not slept like that for days! So now I am back, refreshed and on my second cup of java. Strap your selves in!

Where to begin... hmmm. Well, I guess I will start here: Being the good mother that I am, cough cough, I decided I would wake Grady up at 11:30 pm to feed him before the 'no food after midnight' cut off. Yeah, that didn't work so well. Because he had spiked a fever he wanted nothing to do with the food I was trying to force down his throat. In fact, he spit it back at me. Isn't he a cherub? So back to bed he went. He awoke nice and early and thankfully, not hungry. I did get him to eat a popsicle before the 'no liquids after 8:00' though. You would have thought he won the lottery. A popsicle...AT 6:30 am?! Are you serious?!? SCORE!! The problems began when his brother came downstairs and wanted cereal for breakfast. I tried hiding Drake while he ate but darn how his voice carries when he asks for another bowl. Grady's ears quickly perked up and then HE wanted cereal too. I convinced him he could have whatever he wanted after he saw the doctor. He quickly chose doughnuts and not just any doughnuts, Krispy Kreme doughnuts. (I LOVE this boy) So the bribe was set. After another two hours of standing guard in front of the pantry we decided to leave.

We fielded the "Can I have my doughnut now?" question the entire way there. How many times can a toddler ask the same question in a 15 minute car ride - WAY. TOO. MANY. We had just registered and settled in the little play area when they called us back - sweet! As soon as the automatic door closed behind us we heard the dreaded words... the doctor is running behind. Joy! I will now mention that it wasn't just a little behind - it was TWO frickin' hours behind. Two hours that hubby and I were encapsulated in a small room (with no windows), with a three year old that would not stop chanting "I want my doughnut!" " I don't like this room. Mommy I want to leave" "I go now and get my doughnut?!" Oh the insanity of it all. To top it off we, being the good parents that we are, cough cough, opted to not eat breakfast as a way to help Grady with his not eating experience. That did not, however, include the nice piping hot cups of coffee we had just gotten. The ones we weren't allowed to bring back with us into the pre-surgery room. The ones that might have taken the edge off the chanting three year old and his obsession with doughnuts. Though, Young Hot Doctor or YHD, in scrubs was nice on the eyes and did ease the pain slightly. Even better was when hubby pointed out to YHD that a mutual friend of theirs wife thought he was hot. That made YHD blush - making him even hotter as he stood there in scrubs. sigh

Then the nurse brought Grady his surgery pajamas to change into - light lavender. Guess they try and give you ones you won't steal. As though the monstrous Children's Hospital Stamps all over them wouldn't be enough of a deterrent. Grady hated them and refused to keep the top on. I don't blame him. He looked like an over washed Barney doll. He finally stopped chanting/ screaming when he got the pre-anesthetic relaxer drug. He was a riot and we liked him again! Is it bad to be entertained by your three year old son in a complete drunk/stoned state? No, I didn't think so either. He insisted I was laying on the floor even as he was sitting in my lap. "Momma, why you on the floor?? giggle giggle Momma you on the floor!" All the while his head is drooping from side to side with that lackadaisical look of euphoria. Wish I had my camera to capture it cause I can guarantee the next time I see that face he will be grounded!

After that all went well. He came out of surgery like a trooper. His first words were, of course, about those damn doughnuts. I swear that boy has a one track mind. As soon as YHD gave us a prescription for oxycodone (HELLO MOMMA!!) and discharged him we were off to Krispy Kreme. Before we could pull away from the drive though window Grady woofed down three doughnuts without breathing. When he finally came up for air and asked for a fourth I had to say no. This was met with lots of tears and discourse. I persuaded him to wait until we got home so that his tummy could rest but the chanting continued until we got home. Ironically all the chanting about doughnuts did not deter me from partaking in their soft and sweet goodness - yum.

Now he is up and about riding his big wheel around the house like nothing ever happened. Deep down this was how I knew (and hoped) it would be. I am glad this is all behind us and hope that the surgery fixed everything it was supposed too. Guess we will find out when we go see YHD in a month for Grady's follow-up. Wonder what I will wear...???

the night before the knife

Here is a brief visual - be prepared - it is a scary, scary scene. To my left is my snoring hubby, useless to the state of mind I am functioning in right now. Though his sleeping state is allowing me to balance my wine on his leg - score one for me! To the right is a quickly disappearing pint of Ben and Jerry's "Imagine Whirled Peace". Mmmm, mmmmm, goodness. On my lap is my beloved laptop, soon to be replaced by a newer and shinier version. shiivvver And to numb my mind I am entertaining it with the newest edition of the Real World. I am curious as to what will sustain my attention throughout the evening as I am sure there will be no sleep for this lassie. Grady spiked another fever tonight before going to bed but did so without eating dinner. Now I definitely have to wake him up to eat in an hour or so. Don't even want to start thinking about the monster child he will be tomorrow if I don't. Yaaawnn. Maybe I actually will sleep from my food and beverage induced coma. Lucky me,and of course, lucky you! Off to feed a monster!

for the love of pete, someone get me a paxil!

We are now at two days and counting till Grady's surgery and my anxiety is in FULL form. It has taken the form of over eating (ok, nothing REALLY new but if I can blame my big butt on something I will dammit), excessive crabbiness and lots of wine consumption. I guess those last two can fall under the previous side note as well, sigh... what is a lassie to do? This anxiety is invading every aspect of my daily living, so much so that it is now rearing it's ugly head in my dreams. Last night I dreamt I let Drake and his friend M drown in a pool. I already have a phobia of Drake and water because he can't see without his glasses, this just made it ten times worse. The worst part was I had to drag their bodies up from the bottom of the pool that all of a sudden was over flowing with people. I woke up shaking and ready to vomit. I finally googled what they were going to be doing to monster boy during his surgery - can't decide if that made it better or worse. I keep having flashbacks to my surgery and that darn little boy I treat. I know the possibilities of something freakish happening are slim but in the words of my friend Jes, "If it's freaky it happens to me." That is how I feel about Grady. I mean, we have the whole birth thing, then the dinosaur ridge on his head AND we can't forget the feet debacle! So you can see why I am all a tizzy over this simple, do it with your eyes closed surgery. Yeah, I thought so. Did I mention that we don't check in until 10 am and he can't eat after midnight - Gremlins anyone? Then, too add to the joyousness of the occasion, Grady decided to spike a fever tonight - due to yet ANOTHER ear infection. Thankfully they will operate even if he has one cause I don't think I can postpone it. So for now I will continue to sit and fester about the millions of possibilities that could happen and patiently wait for some happy pills in the mail.

danger will robinson, danger!

We are officially at one week and counting for Grady's surgery. Yes, that is right, he is having his surgery on May 1st. 'May day! May day! Mother down in recovery room three!' Kind of over dramatic I know, but truly, I am beginning to see a lot of warning signs. For example, on Tuesday I was working with a little boy in my office and he was so excited, (a little too much if you ask me), to show me the new bracelet his mom had gotten him. "Look! It's reversible. I have to make sure you can see this red part though cause it's a medical bracelet." "Oh really?? What for?" "Because I almost died this summer getting my tonsils out. I stopped breathing and everything! So now I have to wear this in case I have to go to the hospital again." This is when I casually ask the little boy if I can further inspect his bracelet so I can see (and research) what disorder he has, how many kids have it and how many more panic attacks I need to have before next week. Can you see the need for Paxil yet?? What does a girl have to do to get her hands on some of that? I am also extremely stressed by the fact that I do not know what time Grady's surgery is and what I am going to do with Drake. My neighbor has offered to take him but I can't give her any sort of timeline or expectation. Plus, I have the whole 'emotional Drake' issue. Add that to psychotic mother issues and you can see why my husband wants to run for the hills! I even contemplated bringing Drake with us but quickly decided against it. Hubby thought we should keep his day as normal as possible, especially since I will not be in any condition to field Drake’s never ending stream of questions. So till next Wednesday, we are in limbo. The nurse told us they would call sometime Wednesday evening to give us our surgery time. Seriously... You won’t have any idea until then? I find that difficult to wrap my brain around. This Momma has got to plan. Can’t they see that this uncertainty is adding to the chaos and anxiety that is swarming my brain?!? I should also take this time to warn you that I am sure the sanity level of my blogs will severely drop in the next few days. Hope you can all tolerate the insanity and garbled mess that I may, or may not, be typing. Till then I think I may just have to subdue myself with coffee and chocolate. Starbucks anyone??

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???