~ ~ ~
** Note, surgery was originally scheduled for Friday, April 7. But we ended up going to the doctor on Wednesday (can I mention we had 11 people sharing 1 bathroom then!?!?) and again Thursday for another ear infection, thus canceled surgery at 7pm Thursday night after talking to the surgeon at home....
Friday, April 14
Poor buddy, all drugged up and loopy. They charioted him away on the big stretcher bed, trying to sing songs; little man turned in to a limp rag doll in his teddy bear and aqua gown, rolled down the hallway into the great unknown.
An hour and a half later, I started pacing, wearing down that waiting room floor. Stretching tense muscles and worked up nerves. We were cool, calm, collected the first ninety minutes, but now this was getting long. Nurse comes to the receiving, I jump excitedly. Nope, not for us. I drop down defeated in my chair. Put the timer on for the two-hour mark, I tell myself I'm allowed to ask then.
Two hours comes, tick-tock. Trying to be chill, I walk to sweet, cheery Lolly at the font desk, "Can I get an update on my son Judah?" She calls back, nope, still not even in recovery, still in surgery. I report to Mark. He says, they'll tell us if somethings wrong. "No they won't!" I say, "They go into medical panic mode and only tell us if he's getting ambulance to Levine. They're not going to come and tell us that his blood is flying out or his breathing stopped or something!"
I start crying. Now worked up. A lot.
Nurse comes. The kid's okay. Screaming. But made it through. They hand him to me in a pile of blankets and cords; I don't know which is what but they tell me to sit. I cradle my buddy, both upset, he's shaking and freaking out, unaware of where he is or what is going on.
I see blood. Smears of it across the blanket. The nurse comes to my frantic concern. He ripped his IV out. Blood. Tears. Screams. Maybe his? Maybe mine?
Poor Buddy, Poor Mama Heart.
We get him home, hugging him crushingly in the backseat.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Monday.
Three days later. Yes, three days later.
Kalea is over to play, Emily is chatting. Camilla is in the water, Judah walks by. We're all standing directly together, huddled on the little back patio.
He bumps into the plastic pool.
Plastic, flimsy, 1990s version of floppy patio pool.
Exactly.
There he goes.
Three days after casting, he falls head-first into the pool, cast and all.
Nope, not waterproof.
Nope, not supposed to get wet.
Yep, drenched.
I rap him, quickly panicked, and pick him up out of the surge of water now overflowing outward. He's screaming. I tell Emily haphazardly, shaking my head, "Can you watch the girls!?"
I'm in no rush at all, just shaking my head. Of course my kid would fall into the pool and get his cast soaked three days after its on. Of course I'm the mom that has to call the surgery center and ask about infection, re-casting, or what to do. Of course it was just in surgery three days ago.
Never crossed my mind till a couple weeks later that he could have taken in water, that the screaming was probably from water in his nose, that he could have hit his head. Nope, no thought to the head-first fall in a pool, just wanted the kid out of the water to save the cast.
For real, kiddo.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Tuesday, April 25Rough afternoon. She already screamed so much she had been in her room before Ellie came, then came out, tried to regroup, and had found her self failing the time-out attempt on the stair steps and was locked back in her room. Judah was clamoring at the backdoor to go outside, and sweet Ellie was just playing whimsical with her mommy, wondering what all the fuss of the other two was about, and why Camilla wasn't around to play.
We try to reset. Outside. Always go for outside, the winner. Yep, get your shoes on. Out the door.
The kids are wandering, playing. Two tricycles out; one bike. The toy lawnmower, a plastic rake. The other neighbor comes over, and Taylor joins Ellie and Camilla in the what-not, while Judah continuously tots his little jeaned buns up the sidewalk, despite the numerous attempts to keep him contained on the driveway at home.
Kathryn, Brian, Melissa, and I all chatter about, watching our kids and catching up in between...
When we hear the click and clamor of the garage door start luring and churing itself toward close.
What!? We all turn around, finding three little bodies standing near the stairs, stark and still, stuck in position, frozen in fear.
I throw my hands up, knowing, yep, of course this happening, of course at my house three littles get locked alone under the closed garage door.
I swing my foot under the door to prompt the sensor for stop.
Uhhhh. Nothing. It keeps cascading downward.
I grab the door itself, chugging heavily and purposefully to close.
It doesn't yield to my efforts or strength.
Screams start to steamroll now out of the garage. What started as a solo, turned into a ensemble of squalling, freaked-out kids.
Screams might be a mild version to say what noises shrilled the air.
I think quickly and run through the front door of the house towards the back, garage door.
You would have thought someone was being murdered. The exhaling shrieks that came from those three little bodies were enough to make horror movies blush.
I nailed the garage door button, opening it to safety.
Screeches continued.
Taylor screamed bloody-murder so intensely he was shaking, freaking out. Judah was full-on freaked out with streams of tears pouring down his face. And Camilla's fright came out in frantic running circles around the garage, squalls of noise releasing, and streaked face red from terror.
The garage door rose, light poured in. The parents outside were laughing.
And so was I, shaking my head. The circus continues, with stories to be told...
