Recovery Room

 Grayson's recovery is going well.  We've hit the painful part, I think, however, in that he's having lots of deferred pain today.  Cheeks, ears, etc.  The doctor said this would happen and just to make him as comfortable as possible.  So we are.  By way of couch toys and Disney marathons.  I think he's dealing rather well although that might have a lot to do with the codeine every four hours.  Today I pulled back on it and today he has struggled with pain.  He'll be a 4yo junkie by the end of this because I can't watch him suffer.  Codeine again today.  I will switch to regular Tylenol tomorrow.  And lose 14 pounds too.



*Just downloaded some pics from my phone so thought I'd leave them here as a little before and after.

 
















 Here we are in the cute waiting room.  It was really well done.  Barely noticed the ball of acid at the pit of my stomach surrounded by all that there cute.



Cut out clouds hung from the ceiling. Look at me, not your anxiety, they chanted in adorablese.


An entire children's mural was on every wall.  There are thirty-five rungs on that ladder in case you are wondering. (Did you count thirty-one, Monica? :)




















The nurse gave him a little black puppy to snuggle on even though Foxy wasn't very far out of reach.



 And oh yes, Mommy brought her "Foxy" too.  Which came in nicely when the wait got long and we became antsy.

 Then, they called his name.  I put on my space suit and walked him back to the operating room.  We both froze a bit when we saw the staff wearing all blue scrubs with masks on already.  If my friend, Tanya hadn't warned me about this part, I may have done an about face and bolted out of the room with him tucked under my purse.

But we pressed on and I gave my best sing song-y "Ok, Babe.  Let's hop you up on the table and so you can breathe in some silly gas that'll make you realllly sleepy." 

The anesthesiologist had him lay down on the gurney, tilted his head up and asked him to breathe in the sweet cotton candy happy air.  He was alseep before she asked him if he'd been to the beach this summer.

One of the nurses escorted me quickly out of there and into another holding cell waiting room.  He said Grayson went down so well that he will most likely wake up out of it peacefully too.  I was relieved to hear it.

Then I cried.  But only for a second.  A mom has to keep her shit together, you know.

It was a good thing too because I ran into an old high school friend in the waiting room.  His son was getting similar things done so we both caught up through worried eyes.  It was a nice distraction.  Then a nurse called him.  His little boy was waking up.  Thank God.

 An hour and 15 minutes go by and the phone rings.  It was my brother.  Just then I realized I had been statue still and death gripping my purse while staring at my shoes.

"What color are your shoes?"  Eric asked to break me out of wherever the hell I just was.



After an hour and 35 minutes in pergatory Waiting Rm 1, the doctor came back to where I was and let me know he did great and was starting to wake up now.  It would be a while until he was ready for me to come back.

She also said a thousand other things about healing tissue, side effects, differed pain and pudding but all I could hear is that he woke up.  I think when you're a mother and your child goes under anesthesia, you just hold your breath until they wake up. 

And boy did he.

A few minutes after the doctor left, I heard someone screaming.  My heart ached for the little one who went before Grayson because they were obviously coming out of the anesthesia in a rough way.

"Mrs. SHRIVER!!!!"  I heard through the double doors and I hyperspaced through them.

"Everything's all right.  He is just waking up and really having a hard time coming out of it.  A REALLY hard time," she stressed as she whisked me through yet another set of double doors.

I scanned the room for him but only saw three different sets of parents holding their serenely groggy post surgical babies.

Then I saw it.

There were three to four nurses on either side of him, trying to keep him down.  He was sitting up, wild-eyed and arms cutting through the air like switchblades.   

He was pissed.

"Mommy!" is all I needed to hear to plant myself next to him, ready to save the day.

"Watch out, Mrs. Shriver, he bites." says one of the nurses who probably had my son's molar print on her forearm.

All six nurses unloaded my little pale with IV boy into my arms as I sat in a chair.  Thank God, I thought, all will be right with the world.  He closed his eyes and we breathed each other in.

"Let me GO! Let me GO!  Stop holding me down, you BAD MOMMY!" But I couldn't.  I had to keep him from tearing out his IV with every ounce of strength left in my body.

"You are the BADDEST MOMMY.  I do not LIKE you.  NOBODY in the WHOLE MUSEUM likes you.  You are NOT good at DARTS.  The next time I have surgery, you may NOT hold me down."

And then I cried.  But just for a second.  We mommies have to keep our shit together.

There was another twenty minutes of my son screaming confused insults at his Bad Mommy but I think I blocked most of it out. Not a stellar gold star moment for a parent. Eventually though, the crazy subsided and he slept off his demons.  Now...if only I could sleep off mine.

Oh, P.S. Remember the old friend from high school I saw in the waiting room?  Yeah.  He was in the recovery room listening to my son chew me a new one.  I'm sure he'll be pulling up a chair next to me, The Grappler's Mean Mommy, at our class reunion. Looking forward.