Tag Archives: coffee

Don’t Go And Get Coffee While Your Child Is In Surgery

5 Mar

If you can’t laugh at yourself, nothing else seems very funny. -me

As soon as the nurse’s walked out of the doorway carrying Oli, I began to cry. Some of the tears were shed from fear. That irrational fear that I would never see her again. Fear that the audiologist would walk back into the room and tell me that her hearing on the right was lost. Fear that she felt alone and scared. Some of the tears were shed because I was just sad because she is so young and has been through so much. No child should have to go through the things that Oli has had to go through. And the rest of the tears were shed because I am a mother. What mother wouldn’t cry if her child has surgery? What mother doesn’t cry when their child has anything that she can’t fix herself?

I waited in the pre-op room until the ENT came back to talk to me about his recommendations for putting tubes in her ears. He walked back into the room about 20 minutes later.

“She does not need tubes in her ears again at this time. They were perfectly clear. No sign of infection and no fluid. I was surprised. I’ll keep a close eye on them and we’ll see if they stay clear.”

I was surprised too! Usually when she has a runny nose and goopy eyes (which is did that morning) she also has fluid in her ears. I thanked him for his time and gathered my things to go wait in the surgery waiting room until they called me for the results of the hearing screen.

I walked back out to sit in those very uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Who designs these waiting rooms? It’s like they said, “What kind of chairs should we put in here? We know that these parents are nervous, afraid, and will be unable to sit still while they wait for hours for their child to get out of surgery. You know what would be the best idea for chairs in here? Hard, plastic ones with a thin vinyl covering with just enough padding to avoid bruising and corporate complaints. Why make this process any easier by providing sufficient butt comfort? Oh… and let’s put a few gazillion gallon fish tanks in here. Who isn’t comforted by Nemo and Dory? And make sure to build the cafeteria at least 5 miles from here. It’ll give them something to do.”

“Sounds like a great idea Bob! I have one more! Make sure the person at the information desk is at least 100 years old, has no idea where anything is located and can’t work the computer or the phone. Parents will think that’s hilarious and won’t be at all frustrated or annoyed.”

Before the ENT left the room and sent me to this wonderful waiting area he said that the audiologist would come find me in the waiting room sometime between 1 hour and next Tuesday to tell me the results of the ABR. They gave me this little blue pager that was supposed to light up and vibrate when Oli was done. I had to keep it with me just in case they couldn’t get a hold of me by my cell phone. I really wanted to go get a cup of coffee, but I hated the thought leaving the waiting room. What if the little blue pager only works within a certain distance from the surgery area? I doubted it would work 5 miles away and in an underground cave-like area, which is where the cafeteria was located. I seriously doubted that my cell phone would work there either. My cell phone only works half the time, above ground in my apartment.

I spent the next 10 minutes having an inner debate about coffee.

Did I really need it? My butt was really starting to hurt already. Maybe a little stroll would take my mind off imaginary surgical catastrophe situations. No, I can’t go. What if Oli needs me? What if the pager and the cell phone fail and something happens that requires the one thing that no nurse, doctor, tech, therapists, specialist, aide, helper, or 100 year old woman can help with. What if it can only be fixed by my immediate action or Oli will die? I don’t need coffee that bad. Wait…that would never happen. Oli’s fine and in good hands. I will only be gone a little while.

I decide to make a go of it and fast-walked my way out of the waiting room. My pager and cell phone were clutched tightly in one hand. A few weeks later I stumbled back into the waiting room, pager and cell phone non-vibrating, lit, or ringing. I sat down and glanced at the brown card attached to the pager. It was directions on how to use the pager. Aaaaa….I had been in enough restaurants (pre-children) to know how to use one. I didn’t bother reading the card when they gave me the thing. I read it now.

________Do not place pager and cell phone in direct contact. The pager may not work properly if this happens._____________

What?!

I was holding onto them both in the same hand!

Oh My God!! Something terrible has happened and I was GETTING F****** COFFEE IN EGYPT!!

I rushed the old lady at the information desk.

“My daughter Oli is in surgery. I went to go get coffee and I had my cell phone and the pager on me, but I didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to put them in the same place because I didn’t read the card because, you know, I thought I knew how to work one, but then I got back and I read the little card and now I think you probably definitely tried to get a hold of me but my cell phone doesn’t work very well and of course the pager didn’t work because I had it in THE SAME FLIPPIN’ HAND AS MY CELL PHONE, STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE I HAVE LOST MY MIND AND TELL ME MY DAUGHTER IS OKAY!!”

Of course I didn’t really say any of this. They might not let me take Oli home with me. I steadied my trembling hands, took a deep breath, and said “Can you tell me if Oliana is out of surgery yet?”

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Airing Out My Bitchies

16 Feb

Today I am tired of trying to be upbeat and optimistic. Although I usually am (or at least try to pretend to be) most days because it just feels better, today I am not. Today I am gloomy Mcgloomster and I don’t want to pretend or try. I was going to FB about it, but then I thought “Shit. Isn’t this what the blog is for? Letting my bitchiness all hang out.”

I think my morning started off badly when my demon child, lovely 2yr old daughter, woke me up at 5:45am by jumping on my head screeching at volume 1,000 “MOOOOMMY! I’M DONE SLEEEEEPIIIINNNGGG!”

I will now need to add search for hearing aids on my list of To Do’s today.

After begging, pleading, bargaining, yelling, and cursing at her to please go back to bed until at least 6:45, I pouted and reluctantly stomped down stairs. She didn’t hear any of my pleas because apparently when she realized mommy was in a bad mood she high-tailed it to her happy place. I found her sitting in her favorite spot. Inside the TV. Girlfriend could not possible sit any closer to the thing if she tried.

After turning on Mickey Mouse (good thing that crap comes on early) I made coffee and proceeded to drink somewhere between 3 and 10 cups. I lost track after my 3rd trip to the bathroom. It’s my own fault for staying up so late. I seem to have developed an unhealthy obsession with shows about the paranormal. Apparently I am not the only one because every month Syfy, the Travel Channel, Bio, and every other channel on cable has added a new ghost show to their repertoire. Last night it was Ghost Adventures and The Dead Files.

This stuff is serious….and I am fascinated. It drives my husband bonkers. Sorry honey. It’s a hobby? Of course I can’t watch anything during the day so I am forced to stay up late into the night scaring the crap out of myself. See Ginger? The reason mommy is in a bad mood is because you force me to watch ghost shows at night.

After spending some quality time on Facebook I decided that I needed to get out of the house. Air out my bitchies. My mom came over and we took the three kids to the park. It was good and I felt better. Oli had fun driving her little swivel car. Ginger and Koa ran around screaming and throwing sand. I decided to take Oli down the slide. It sounded like a good idea until I turned around and discovered two other children had also decided to go down the slide.

My immediate thought was “Children, please don’t say anything stupid to me about Oli because I’m just not in the mood for lovely flower and cupcake responses.” Kids are always asking questions about Oli. Usually they are just curious. Sometimes they’re mean, but that doesn’t happen very often. Today, I just didn’t want to deal with it. I can’t remember the last time I went to the park with Oli and someone didn’t ask questions about her.

Why doesn’t she talk? Why doesn’t she walk? What’s wrong with her eyes? Is she a baby?

Normally I just tell them that God made her different and that she is blind. I’m nice and friendly. Honestly I would much rather have them ask me questions than just stare at her. Today I was just tired. I just wanted to be able to have fun at the park with her with other kids around and not have to answer questions.

So when the little girl came up to me and asked why she doesn’t talk I just responded “She just can’t.” I did smile, but then turned my back and walked away with Oli.

I feel bad. I really do. But, today I just couldn’t do it.

Today I am tired. And today I am tired of the questions and stares.

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