Heather Glover--2558: In Surgery

Yeah, they’re going to make sure the scar blends in with his eyebrow so it won’t be noticeable.

The day of the surgery Tiny Man woke up a bit confused, since it was only 4am and extremely dark. But, being so young, he was scheduled for one of the first slots at a hospital two hours away. Thankfully he was in a good mood in the car (when he was awake, anyways), happy hanging out in the waiting room and only a little wiggly while Mommy and Daddy spoke with the anesthesiologist. Two of them, actually, as due to an emergency they had to switch last minute.

But they reiterated it’s a short surgery (only about twenty minutes, then perhaps another ten or fifteen to let him wake up), competent surgeon, it’ll be fine.

And so, minutes later, I watched them get Tiny Man ready, making sure he was comfortable and calm. Then, all too suddenly, they were letting us say good-bye (and good luck) and wheeling him off.

Watching his little face disappear down the hall and around the corner, knowing what was going to happen, was the worst.

Returning to the waiting room, we watched as Tiny Man’s surgery number 2558 appeared on the board, letting us know where in the process he was: Pre-op. A few minutes later it changed again: Surgery.

I, of course, forgot my book in the car and instead of going to get it, requiring twenty minutes of travel, having to go through security and potentially missing the call that Tiny Man was out of surgery, tried to ease my nerves by looking up random stuff on my phone.

They also had a show playing on the little TV in the waiting room. It happened to be Bluey, a show up until that point I had only heard about and seen toys for. I found myself tuning in and learning a few more facts. Little did I know Bluey is female and a blue heeler, but the more you know…

Of course, I also kept an eye on the board. Half hour gone, still in surgery. Soon? Hopefully?

Beating my nerves down with an effort, I focused back in on the Heeler family and their antics. Why is Lucky’s Dad the only one rarely called by his actual name, anyways?

Alright, fine, maybe it took them more than a couple minutes to set him up. Still…

Back to Bluey so I can ignore my spinning thoughts...I honestly hope Tiny Man will never turn into a Muffin…Also poor Socks. She’s gonna be a tough one when she’s older, though.

I can’t wait for information anymore, and neither can my hubby. We questioned a nurse about what’s happening and she said she wasn’t sure, but the doctor should be out soon to talk to us. Apparently the first patient of the day went in late, causing a back-up, so that was probably it.

Fine. Emergencies happen, especially in a hospital. But then why did they take him back when they did? We settle back in, this time seeing rather than watching Bluey.

Alright, look, I consider myself a pretty patient person but where is my child.

FINALLY. The doctor called our names and brought us into the consultation room. He got right to the point(s):

-HOWEVER: Due to Tiny Man’s deep veins and chubby frame, it took a team of anesthesiologists (yes, a whole team) over half an hour to get his IV to take.

-Even better: When he woke up the first time (WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE FIRST TIME?!) he was so distressed he managed to bust open his brand new stitches. Which, of course, meant he had to be put back to sleep to restitch it, this time with a pressure bandage added.

….I end up apologizing to the doctor for our child being entirely out of the ordinary and he laughed, asking why I was apologizing for something I couldn’t control.

After they reiterated he was okay, just upset, we’re FINALLY able to go back and see him. Or rather, we hear him well before we see him as he is wailing as loud as his tiny lungs can. Hurrying around the corner we finally find him, red-faced and bawling, with an IV deep in his foot and the poor nurse trying to comfort him. As soon as he sees Mommy his tiny arms shoot up and he practically jumps out of bed to get to me.

I don’t hesitate, of course, and scoop him up, IVs and all, cuddling him as tight as I can, rocking him and cooing to try and calm him down. Daddy rubs his back and tells him how proud we are of him and what a great job he did. Eventually, with the help of removing the IV and putting on some Ms. Rachel, he finally settles.

…At least until I attempt to set him down to change him out of the hospital gown. Then the tears begin anew as he koala-hugs himself back onto me, demonstrating the power of baby-death-grip. I can understand his anxiety as I slowly peel off the gown and begin to count the number of tiny pin-pricks all along his hands, arms, legs and feet where they attempted to place the IV. I got to eleven or twelve, depending on if you counted the one that finally took.

We finally figure out how to dress an infant while he is being held in a bear hug. He is also given his first sip of apple juice, which he holds in his chubby little hands with all his might (after he realized I was going to keep carrying him and let go of his death-grip on me, anyways).

When we finally get everything in order, we wave good-bye to all the nurses (who wave back despite Tiny Man mean-mugging them with enough force to slay a dragon) and get him back to the car. Mommy sits in the back with him, giving him snacks and rubbing his shoulder. And by the time the hospital is out of sight…it’s out of mind.

Heather Glover is a 38-year old multiple sclerosis warrior living with her loving husband, toddler son and spoiled cat. By day she’s a development coordinator, by night she enjoys spending time with family, watching anime, playing video games and making occasionally delicious messes in the kitchen. She also volunteers as a writing mentor for Lit Kids Magazine and has had short stories published in Starspun Lit, AfterThought, Dragon Soul Press and Bad Day Book: Parenting Edition.

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