Post Surgery

Let me begin by saying I am not cut out for the medical field. Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a vet? No? Well, that's probably because my veterinary career path didn't last long. Picture me...me...in Bio 101 and the college professor walks by each of our desks, and with a pair of tongs, takes a huge white rat (dead) out of the phermaldahyde and puts one on each desk. I sit there, mouth hanging open....I....I....need some air...(quick exit)

Well, I thought I was prepared for the post-op look. I really did. I was wrong. And if for one moment I had any doubt as to my value in the medical field, it was drilled home last night. They call our name, and let us know that one (only one) parent can come back to the post op at a time. Aunt Cathy works at Children's Emergency as an RN, so they also let her come back. I walk up to the littlest gurny I've ever seen, and lying on her side is my little Kate...her back to us. I walk around her and there is my baby, with her little face swollen, "asleep", but with a grimace on her face. She has a piece of medical tape (the type you can kind of see through) like a mustache above her lip and right under her nose. I can't see any stitches...actually I don't even notice her lip...I can only see her eyes...and feel SO BAD for her. The nurse says "Honey, Mommy's here". She flitters open her eyes, turns her head up a bit to see me and her eyes pretty much roll back as her head rests again. I swallow hard and my eyes well up with tears. Aunt Cathy says she looks great!...He did a good job. (I'm sorry, are we looking at the same child?) To me, she looks as if she's been beaten. There is blood all over her bottom lip, in her nose, on her tongue. Her top lip is swollen. I can't get an idea of how she'll look. I really can't. Aunt Cathy had an easier time being able to see past her immediate appearance to what she will look like later.

She gets wheeled up to her room and at this point she is a bit more awake, and keeps looking around to find me as we walk along...the people pushing her gurney were walking quickly. "I'm here baby". When we get to her room, they ask, "Do you want to hold her?" I answer an emphatic "Yes!". I couldn't pick her up quickly enough. She is crying and as I sit down, I smell the blood. Did you know blood smells? I mean, IT SMELLS like nothing you've ever smelled before...very, very strong...one of those pungent odors, like a skunk, or like rotten meat...a smell that pierces your nose and you're sure you will never forget. The color must have completely drained from my face, because Kevin was watching me...afraid I was going to faint or be ill. I was torn between wanting to bolt out of there and wanting and needing so much to hold her. When I would hold her, the crying would stop and she would lay her tired head on my chest. Torn between being a Mommy, and someone who has no place in the medical field...(well, maybe I could pull it off as long as there was...ya know,....no blood....and I didn't have to give shots....uh...probably not.)










I did not post the picture of her straight on...not sure if everyone was up to it. But if you want to see it and, like my dad, are curious about the way everything works, let me know, and I'll email it to you. We almost didn't take the picture, but I'm glad we did. I'll probably take one each day as she heals, to show her when she's older...and..you know...for when she acts like a pill when she's a teenager. I'll tell her about the stress and worry Mommy endured...I won't have the 'I carried you in my body for 9 months and had a 24 hour labor' card to pull out. I think this should work nicely as an alternative.