Category: health

health, humor, life in pictures, mommyhood, parenting

Well I Never!

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The surgery was a success. Full Speed’s right lense was removed and it went smoothly and quickly. We learn how much his vision has improved in the days and weeks to come. He handled everything beautifully.

Even though he was a champ, waking up from anesthesia was a bit of a challenge. The drugs can alter behavior and demeanor. That certainly was true for Full Speed.  Granted, he is a stubborn boy by nature, this took it one step farther.

He initially woke up yelling, “I WANT MY PATCH OFF OF MY FACE! I WANT THIS STUFF OFF MY ARM!” He wanted everything off from the patch to his IV immediately. He wanted to let the world know it, too. He looked at me with anger in his eyes and proceeded to successfully yank off his pulse/ox (a tiny contraption that is bandaged to your finger to measure your oxygen level). I managed to stop the yanking and pulling off of everything else, but the pulse/ox fell limp to the floor.

He yelled and yelled. He demanded and yelled some more. Mad Dog and I did our best to redirect. It only made him angrier.

I noticed (as Moms do) that it had been four hours since Full Speed had last used the facilities. The previous time he had emerged from surgery, he peed all over himself and all over me. Moms are pretty on top of things so I had extra clothes for him packed. For me I had nothing. I had to wear scrubs home. Of course Mad Dog thought that was kind of hot. I remember feeling exactly the opposite of hot in that moment.

I asked Full Speed, “Do you have to use the bathroom?”

“NO!” he responded.

“Do you want Mommy or Daddy to take you?” I said.

“I WANT NOBODY TO TAKE ME!”

“Sweetie, you need to use the bathroom….,” I say again. Before I finish my thought he shouts, “NO! I AM NOT GOING TO THE BATHROOM!”

Mad Dog tries to intervene. “Full Speed, you are going to the bathroom. Let’s go.”

He whips his head around and faces us both. He is clearly angry. “NEVER!”

He is never going to the bathroom again apparently. Someone find me some scrubs. Looks like I’m going to need them.

health, life in pictures, parenting

The Waiting Game

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Full Speed has been as brave as he possibly can be. The doctor told him that she was going to put music on in the OR so they could dance. He gave her a signature Full Speed smile (he thinks she’s cute).

Mad Dog and I are coping and getting along (sort of!). I held it together beautifully until they took Full Speed back to the OR. I almost completely lost it. I felt weepy, nauseous and just short of a panic attack.

Doing better now. We wait. That’s the only thing left to do.

health, humor, life in pictures, mommyhood, parenting, Uncategorized

Hey You Knucklehead!

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This post is going to be short and sweet. I am also posting it the night before Full Speed’s first surgery so that I can have one less thing to worry about as we prepare for this momentous day.

Overall, Full Speed was outstanding today. A kind friend of ours from Illinois had sent a care package a few weeks back (when we thought the first surgery would be) and I had saved a hotwheels car from it to get us through the pre-op day. It worked like a charm. That car went everywhere with us today from the doctor’s, to get our prescription and even to Tae Kwon Do.

Full Speed was a champ as we had to wait almost an hour and fifteen to meet with our doctor (who is completely worth the wait; impeccable skills and excellent beside manner). He was calm (mostly), followed directions with charm and made his Mommy very, very proud.

The only time we ran into an obstacle was when we were waiting for his eye drop prescription to be filled. Granted, the kid had been the model of good behavior all day, I can’t fault him that. I also did treat him to a candy bar so the sugar rush could have severely impeded his judgment. No one can be certain in hindsight.

He was playing with his new car and talking silly. The kind of silly talk that, taken out of context, can be considered rude. So the pharmacist says, “Next in line, please.” Full Speed  says loud enough for everyone in a ten foot radius, including the pharmacist, to hear, “Take that Knucklehead!” To the untrained observer, the pitch perfect timing lent everyone to believe he was referring to our pharmacist. I believe (and maybe it’s my own hard-core Mommy denial) that he was talking to his car. We can never be certain. The only thing I knew for certain is that I was mortified. The pharmacist was gracious and filled our prescription anyway. Looking back, it was actually kind of funny but I’m not knuckle-headed enough to ever admit that to Full Speed.

Say a prayer for good vision for my little guy. And thanks for your continued interest and support. Leave a comment if you can, I’d love to hear from you!

health

Ex’squeeze’ Me?

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Do you know how sometimes the anticipation of something is far more torturous than the actual event? Well, that happened to me today. Way back in January my doctor scheduled me for a mammogram (it’s only routine, no worries). For insurance reasons I had to wait until I was legally thirty-five if I was going to be reimbursed. So, I marked it on my calendar and dreaded it for almost the entire year.

I had talked to my sister, Skee, about what to expect. I mean if you can’t talk to your sister about boobs and mammograms, who can you talk to? She talked me through the basics and even though I was dreading the nudity part, I felt mostly prepared.

I found the imaging center with no difficulty. When I went to check-in there was some sort of mix-up and the computer said I should be at the hospital instead. I apologized that I was in the wrong place and they were very understanding since it was scheduled so far back. They realized the scheduling error could be as much on their end as it could be on mine. The receptionist went to check with the radiology tech to see if she could ‘squeeze’ me in. An unfortunate turn of phrase that made my stomach flip in a not-so-good way. The great thing is that I was going to get it done today. The bad part was that I had to wait extra long as they tried to fit me in their busy morning schedule. That meant I was alone with my anticipation. I should have come better prepared and brought some antacid tablets with me.

Before I go back, the receptionist makes it clear that at the imaging center they use actual film instead of digital technology. I’m so flabbergasted by the jostling of the schedule and her use of the word squeeze, I get what she says all wrong. I envision that they are going to film me in various states of undress instead of taking a series of dignified, digital photos.

“Excuse me, what did you say?” I ask already feeling violated and ready to flee.

“We use film like they use in cameras, therefore your images won’t be stored digitally. You will have actual hard copies of the photos that will go into your file,” she says this all matter-of-factly.

“Oh, that’s fine,” my voice filling with understanding. “That’s not a problem.” I’m just thankful there won’t be an unfortunate naked video (although it could do wonders for my writing career) of me floating around that could possibly be leaked on YouTube.

When the tech calls my name, to my relief she is a kindly, outgoing sort. I’m immediately at ease. She asks me as I’m undressing if I could for any reason possibly be pregnant.

“No, thank God!” I say with such force, we break into laughter. Now we are bonding over our shared joy at never having to be pregnant again. Soon, she is sharing child-rearing stories about her daughter who was several years younger than her oldest son, that almost make me glad that I was crazy enough to have my boys so close in age. Almost.

It’s all going pretty well. I step up to the thing-a-ma-jig and ask her if it is truly possible to test me with breasts that are, shall we say, slight and delicate in nature. I tell her of the repeated image I’ve had leading up to this point that every time a tech, such as herself, tries to clamp down, all they get is air. She laughs and says that she has plenty to work with (she’s a magician apparently) and then we start with the imaging.

It wasn’t terribly uncomfortable in terms of the pressure and the squeezing. What I found to be truly disturbing was the abundant amount of fondling that went on. I knew it was going down a bad path when she boldly walks up to me and says, “These need to go on your nipples to differentiate them from the rest of your breast in the photos,” and holds up these two, tiny, circular, sticky things. The kicker is, SHE put them on me. She grabs one boob and sticks it dead-center on my nipple and repeats the process with the other. I wasn’t expecting that. When all the lifting and tucking and pressing and shoving was done, I was at least hoping she’d ask me to dinner. Well, an offer would have been nice anyway.