Rachel's Surgery

After months of gasping in her sleep and urging us to turn up the volume on the tv or radio, the day of Rachel's operation had arrived. The tonsils and adenoids would come out; the ear tubes would go in.

We arrived at the outpatient care center an hour ahead of time as instructed. In a matter of minutes, we were ushered into a bright waiting room after a detour to retrieve Rachel from the vending machine room (she hadn't been allowed to eat since midnight the night before.)

A cheerful nurse in blue scrubs came in and put everyone at ease. She explained procedures at length to Rachel, who had repeatedly exclaimed, "Owee!" the previous week when a blood count was taken from her arm. She was also wary of the blood pressure cuff squeezing her arm like a cobra. But this nurse was patient, had a soothing voice and engaged Rachel in conversation.

She even brought Rachel a teddy bear to take with her. We nicknamed it Glancy, since the procedure would be performed at the former Joan Glancy Hospital. Glancy took the place of Minnie Mouse, who had accompanied Rachel to the hospital.

At one point, the nurse accompanied Rachel down the hall when I heard the sound of little sneakers coming to a screeching halt. Rachel had been spooked by other nurses and doctors in their surgical caps, wanted no part of it and came running back to the security of mommy and daddy.

When the anesthesiologist came in to explain his role in the surgery, Rachel saw his green scrubs, started bawling and buried her head in my armpit, emerging periodically to look at the anesthesiologist and crying anew when she saw he was still there.

My wife reacts badly to anesthesia, so the decision was made to give Rachel oral anesthesia rather than anesthesia through a mask. The week before, Rachel had been told she'd breathe through a mask shaped like a banana or a strawberry and she replied earnestly, "Are you going to take the seeds out? I don't like the seeds."

So, she took the oral anesthesia. It was red and apparently didn't taste very good. We were told to not let her walk around on her own, because she could fall.
About ten or fifteen minutes later, while in my lap, Rachel tilted back her head, looked at me and giggled goofily. It was obvious she was aware of her surroundings, but it was also clear the anesthesia was taking effect.

A short time later, they brought in a plastic wagon with a sheet on it and a propped up pillow and a warmed blanket on top of it. Rachel was lifted into the wagon and I gave her a ride up and down the hall. She was beginning to look more stoned than amused.

After ten minutes, a team of nurses said they would take it from there and pulled the wagon through some doors before turning left to the operating room. When the wagon disappeared from view, the reality hit that Rachel was about to undergo her first operation. Rebecca burst into heaving sobs and I struggled to keep my Adam's Apple from leaping out my mouth.

We were ushered back to the prep room, reassured everything would be okay and taken to another room to await our meeting with Dr. Plotnick post-surgery.

The operation was supposed to take thirty minutes. In reality, it was an hour and fifteen minutes to an hour and a half before the doctor emerged. In that interim, Rebecca and I talked about what was happening. Rebecca wondered whether something went wrong. I figured Rachel was her feisty self and struggled not to "go down."

It turns out there was nothing to worry about. The tonsils and adenoids were huge. There was a large amount of mucus behind her eardrums, as well as swelling. But Rachel came out like a champ and would be ushered to recovery shortly.

We decided to grab a quick bite. We didn't want to eat in front of her. About the time we came back, she had just been wheeled into post-op.

We were told we'd probably hear her wailing and did we ever! She was one ticked-off four-year-old. It didn't matter whether her throat hurt; her lungs worked just fine. It was the deep, almost possessed tone of one angry child. A brown bandage was wrapped around her left hand. She had no need for a grape popsicle offered to her. Rebecca lay down with her and she barked, "No! Daddy!" So I tried to soothe her and she fell asleep with her head rested on my chest. It was one of the most gratifying feelings of my life. The bond of love between daughter and parent is better than just about any high I could imagine.

She'd awaken occasionally to fuss about the monitoring device on her toe. Mostly she slept, with Glancy beside us with a fake line taped to his hand to feed him fluids as well. After they took off the bandage and the monitor on her leg, it was time to go home.

The surgery was over. The post-op fun was about to begin.