Drugs and Bubbles

Arrival time was 5:30 am.  First patient of the day!  It made holding her off on food and drink a non-issue.  The girl went to sleep last night happy as a clam.  Woke and drove down here happy as can be too.  She had no idea what was coming to her, and that ignorant bliss is exactly what we wanted.

While other children slept or watched a movie from their hospital bed, Everlee was up and at it.  Only child running a marathon and choosing the loudest, music dispensing toys before the sun is up in the shared pre-op room.  Oh, E.  Brent said he never believed in ADD before this morning, as she lasted less than 5 seconds with each toy or activity, moving from thing to thing.  In the car.  Out of the car.  Color the page.  Get back in the car.  Grab the binoculars.  Squeeze the frog.  Back in the red car.  Squeal.

Ignorant Bliss.

If the pictures are an indication of her happiness, imagine the same level of intensity from her morning breath.  It was enough to melt the paint off the hospital walls.  Hey, they said no fluids after midnight.  Brushing teeth requires water.    

Just glad she enjoyed herself and wasn't afraid.  They finally gave her some Versed, and within five minutes she had slowed down.  Fluid movements of her head with dazed eyes assured us it had kicked in well.  Then, she sat down and put her head on the play table in a drug-induced defeat.  The anesthesiologist plucked her from the chair with a blanket, she reached for me once, relaxed herself and waved bye-bye.  She was easily distracted by a nurse leading her down the hallway with a stream of bubbles.  I love children's hospitals.  They told us if a child has a hard time coming, they can drive that red sportscar into the surgery room.  They've got all the tricks.

Now, if you know us, we are not the pacing-the-waiting-room type.  Neither of us are nervous.  When it comes to medical stuff, we check our emotions at the door.  Maybe we are heartless.  Maybe we believe in medicine.  Maybe we are just realistic and don't over react.  Maybe we just trust our God.  I'll go with the latter three.  Whatever the reason for our lack of concern, it comes in handy at times like this.  She was taken back, and Brent and I went to breakfast.  Hey, 3-4 hours as a couple alone is a date in our books. 

And... I just got a call from the base with her lab results about that pesky, persistent, parasite.  It is gone.  Hallelujah. No more nasty tasting medicine or the battles that came with it.  Let the shared tubby times commence!

Now say this tongue twister five times:  (Courtesy of my dear team-teaching friend, Chris Kramer, in Minot, ND)

"Sweet and Saucy's" successful surgery and speedy recovery.  

Hooray for alliteration!