Olive came through her procedure like a champ, but I can't say the same for her mama. I just have to ask - is it really necessary to go through all the pre-op paperwork, most of which includes questions I've answered on at least three other sets of forms, and highlight every worst-case scenario and chance of a highly improbable infected needle-sticking incident right in front of the wee patient, who, by the way, is here for this procedure because she has a bit of anxiety when it comes to things like shots and medicine and people in masks giving her shots and medicine?! After the first couple of ridiculous warnings and disclosures and disclaimers, I started cutting the nurse off before she could get to the "good" part and just said, "Yes - okay - I get it," and signed on the umpteenth dotted line. GD lawyers, scaring the everlovin' outta my baby just to cover the hospital's ass. At least the anesthesiologist had the good sense to cut her canned speech short when she clearly saw that not only was Olive getting upset just by being in our sterile little 5x8 cubicle (Little Einsteins on a fuzzy TV be damned), but that she also understood exactly what was being said, no matter how the nurses or whoever tried to dance around it. Anyway, she finally agreed to swallow a bit of Versed(?), which allegedly will make her forget the whole thing, but she wasn't "out" when it came time to wheel her away, and that pitiful image was heartbreaking. So much so, that as I followed at a short distance and finally propped myself up at the corner of Public and Restricted Space, two different doctors came by and asked me if I was okay. No, not really. That shriek you just heard? That's my 4 year old wondering where in the hell she is and what in the hell she did to deserve this.
About 10 minutes later, she was totally "under," and about 30 minutes later, the dentist came by to say she was through. Another 30 or so minutes later, a tiny, groggy person was rolled into our cubicle, and the first thing she said was, "I want to go home. Now." I got in the bed with her for a good while as she vacillated between sleep and quiet tears and "I want to go home. Now." After she rallied enough to stay awake, she downed a popsicle, and we were given our walking papers. In the car, I had some new sparkly bath stuff and a big compact of kid makeup waiting for her as a surprise, and she and Mama Turista had lovely purple shadow on before we left the parking lot. She managed to stay up the rest of the day and never complained or even mentioned anything about the whole ordeal. I want to explain it more fully to her, but I almost think that, for now, it's better just to leave it alone. And pray that that amnesia juice worked.
Overall, I'm glad that if I had to do it this way, it went as well as I could have hoped, and there was enough work to justify putting her under general anesthesia. It was hard enough doing it once, so God Bless those of you who have had to do it repeatedly as a matter of course. I can't imagine the stress.
When I put her to bed last night, I asked Olive how she felt, and she said, "Fantastic." And, now that it's over, so do I.
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