08 February, 2014

Holy Crap it’s been almost a year since I last posted.

Apparently when work is insane I have no desire to be on the computer in my nonexistent free time. Actually I had decided I would start the new year off right by starting to blog again, but have had such a shitastic year so far that I couldn't bring myself to do it – but for Spotty Chop…

Spotty Chop underwent some minor surgery on Tuesday. The doctor wanted to remove a lesion on his lip so they could check it out and verify that it wasn't anything funky. 

I don’t know how parents of truly sick children do it. How they don’t implode, or burst into flames or kill themselves over the stress and fear is beyond me.  But if you have a sick kid, or know a sick kid make sure you give the parents a random hug, chances are they need it.

We spent Monday night at the Wyndham Boston Beacon Hill as Spotty needed to be at the Mass Eye and Ear Infirmary at 6am, and my boys? They don’t do mornings. We had a quick walk from the hotel to the hospital where they treated us right. From the quirky “path” to the pediatric unit to the Spider Man and Minnie Mouse scrubs folks wore, everyone we met was kind, gracious and sympathetic to my seemingly never ending tears. 

waiting to be called

Spotty Chop was weighed (he’s lost weight, didn't need to,  assuming stress) and his vitals were checked, and rechecked. We answered questions and then answered them again and again. We explained to Spotty that they do this to make absolutely sure that they are keeping him safe. While we were in the “curtained  section” there were 4 or 5 other families around us having the same questions asked. Spotty appeared to be the oldest of the bunch. At one point Spotty said “If I die” and I heard a loud gasp from the mother in the next curtain. “YOU WILL NOT DIE. THERE IS NO DYING GOING ON” I shouted. Spotty looked at me as if I had 10 heads. “Mum, I didn't say I was going to die I said if I die”. “WE ARE NOT DYING” I repeated, because seriously. Boy Toy was going into the operating room with Spotty. I had initially planned on going in, but a coworker who’s son had his tonsils out asked me who was going in. When I said me, he looked me dead in the eye and said “no…you WILL NOT, it will kill you. My wife did and it was the worst mistake she ever made.” Well, as I can’t talk/type or think about the surgery without crying I thought he may have a point. So Boy Toy got dressed in scrubs and Spotty got dressed in hospital jammies.

 Spotty got to bring Cherry into surgery with him

Can you guess what word Spotty was thinking of?

getting nervous

 reading helped

Then it was time to go. The nurse, Boy Toy, Spotty and I started walking, we stopped at the hospital room Spotty would be moved to once he woke up. I started to tear up again. Spotty put his arms around me. “mom it’s gonna be ok.” He and Boy Toy walked off. I sat and knitted. And I sat…and sat…finally an hour later the same nurse that walked my baby away from me came back. She wanted to let me know that the surgery hadn't started yet which is why my husband wasn't back yet. About 20 mins later Boy Toy walks into the room. Tears are streaming down his face. I’m like “WHAT”.  Watching him be put under was fairly traumatic apparently. They put the mask on his face, took some deep breaths and then went weirdly still, not like falling asleep. A few seconds later Spotty sat bolt upright, his eyes wide open, foaming at the mouth. The doctors ushered Boy Toy out “perfectly normal” they said.

Good Lord I am glad I didn't see that.  I asked if Spotty had colored his mask. He decorated it with stickers and then got to choose a scent. The great thing (and maybe they do this everywhere for pediatrics) they don’t stick a needle in him (Spotty Chop would have been a Fing mess) they use a form of laughing gas and once they are out they switch to an IV. So Spotty decorated and chose a lemon sent to go off to sleep – well actually he chose cherry and one of the doctors said “are you sure, I don’t think the cherry smells good”. He went and got the cherry so Spotty could take a whiff – BLECH was Spotty’s response, “I’ll have the lemon”.  When I asked what took so long Boy Toy laughed. Apparently they have Ipads for the kids before they go into surgery. Spotty had about 8-10 different doctors and nurses surrounding him. He was teaching them all how to play Minecraft. The surgeon had a 7 year old, the anesthesia team all had kids. Boy Toy said it was hysterical. They kept asking him questions. I believe all of the day’s surgeries may have been delayed some.

About 40 minutes later (I actually have no idea how long it was, time was CREEPING) the nurse came back and said “he’s all done and is starting to wake up”. We ran down to the recovery area. Spotty was shaking so badly and kept trying to get up. “Take this out of my hand and let me up. I have to get UP and WALK” he was shouting. The nurse explained that the IV needed to stay in until he had something to drink, because if he was nauseous they would give him something through the IV. Spotty wanted out so bad. Boy Toy held his head, I got his butt. Spotty was getting more agitated and the nurse looked at his hand again, she said – that is actually pretty red – I think maybe we should just take out the IV. I thought it was a brilliant idea. She said that sometimes they just needed to get out of the recovery area. As soon as she took the IV out Spotty was calm. So calm they decided he could go up to his room. I don’t know what you call the folks that move the beds from one area to another, but they seem to be some of the kindest folks around. Slow and calm and competent. I remembered that from my last ER visit with kidney stones. You just feel safe with them. Since Boy Toy was in scrubs he got to walk up with Spotty. I had to go a different way. I got there before them, I may have ran. Within 15 minutes of Spotty being moved from one bed to the bed in the room he seemed completely normal. Playing on the phone and talking to us.

The nurses came by to check his vitals, give him popsicles and apple juice.  The doctor initially thought we would be staying at the hospital until noon or one – but Spotty recovered so quickly we were out of there by 10-10:30.

We went back to the hotel (Spotty wanted to hang out) and I would say an hour after we got to the hotel Boy Toy said “look at his lip”. The swelling was almost gone (well not gone gone, but it went from a lip the size of your fist to a lip the size of a lip). Around noon we left to go home. On our way to the elevator I was telling Spotty “just think, if any of your friends have to have surgery, you will be able to tell them everything will be ok”. An older gentleman had walked up to the elevator. “are you going home?” he asked Spotty. “yes” and then proceeded to tell him all about the surgery. “Well, I am glad everything worked out ok for you.” He gave Boy Toy and I a smile. 

Nice people rock.

We had planned on Spotty staying home on Wednesday, we didn't really think he would NEED to, but figured he earned a day off.  Mother Nature apparently wanted to make doubly sure and sent us a foot of snow. Spotty appreciated the gesture, and spent the day playing video games.