Friday, February 09, 2007
Adios Adenoids!
Julia's surgery was at 6 freakin' 30 in the freakin' morning. That's ok, though, better earlier than later since she couldn't have anything to eat.
We got there, a charming and loquacious child in tow. She, confronted with a ROOM full of boxes of tissues began to demonstrate to the other people waiting for surgery the one thing we do to her most often: the wiping and blowing of her nose, and the disposal of the tissues. One by one she would pull a tissue out of the box, hold it to her nose, blow into it (not producing anything because for once her sinuses are clear), crumple the tissue up, and walk clear across the waiting room to throw the tissue away. Repeat ad nauseum. But, it gave her something to do, and everyone waiting in the room was transfixed by her cuteness.
When they finally called us back, we were given a waaaay too large gown and socks to change her into. They also gave her some ruffies. I was glad about this, as we'd been warned that we would not be able to walk with her to the OR or be with her when she was put under the anesthesia. I was really worried about this. I had nightmares all night of my daughter screaming while scary masked people did horrible things to her. But by the time they came to take her, she was too out of it to care.
So, Kristin and I went back to the waiting room to wait. We got to hear talking heads talk unrelentingly about Anna Nicole Smith's tragic death. I'm sure they're grasping at anything not to have to talk about the dead in Iraq for a day.
Anyway, before it seemed time, there was a woman leading us back to a consultation room to get the doctor's instructions. When we were scheduling the surgery, we were told that we'd get to be in the first recovery room while she came out of anesthesia. Right before they took her from us they infomed us that no. No we would not be able to be there when she woke up, but that as soon as she did wake up they would bring her to us. We hadn't been in that consultation room for 1 minute before we could hear Julia SCREAMING SCREAMING SCREAMING. That scream that you never want to hear, a scream of pain and fear, a terrible wail for her mothers. We opened the consultation room door into the secondary recovery room. We pressed our faces to the glass window into the primary recovery room. We could hear our baby screaming. Kristin tried to get a nurse to help us, she looked at Kristin like Kristin was trying to kidnap a baby. Another nurse came out of the primary recovery room leading another patient, when she turned around to go back into the recovery room (where I was trying to go in so I could get my baby) Kristin addressed her. "I can hear my baby screaming." "What?" the nurse said, as if all of our eardrums weren't being pierced by Julia's cries. "Can you hear my baby screaming?" Kristin asked again. "I hear a baby screaming." She said in, snotty, reply. "I assure you that's my baby. She needs to be brought out to us or we need to go into her now!" "If that is your baby, she'll be brought out to you when she's ready to be released." And Nurse Hatchet pushed past me and shut the door to the recovery room in our faces.
Another nurse swept down on us to explain that the crying was just a result of the amnesia and all babies cried like that and she wasn't hurt and it wouldn't make a difference if we were there. I beg to differ. She might still have cried in my arms, but there is a difference between going through a difficult transition and crying like that surrounded by strangers and strange objects, and going through a difficult transition and crying like that while being held in the loving and safe arms of your mother. But just at that moment the doctor swept in with the results of the surgery and post-op instructions.
I didn't hear much. I heard that her adenoids were huge and definitely the source of her problems. And I heard that there was only fluid in one ear. But at that moment two nurses came through the recovery room doors with my screaming daughter in their arms, and I was up out of the chair and confronting them before anyone could stop me. "That's my baby, and I'll take her now." "The doctor wanted to speak with you first." "The doctor's in that room now." "Well, has he finished speaking with you yet?" "I don't care if he's finished with me or not, her other mother is with him, I'll be taking my daughter now!" and I practically ripped her from the nurse's arms. Her screams immediately subsided to whimpers and moans.
A few minutes of rocking and drinking apple juice while Kristin got the prescriptions filled, and we were on our way home. It was only 9 AM. I guess I could have gone back to work, but we were all exhausted, so we all went home and took long naps.
Right now she's cranky and irritable and she's slept more than she ever has, but it's not even as bad as when she's sick, so I think we're going to be fine.
Those nurses, though, I'll be thinking bad thoughts about them for weeks, now.