Out of Touch

Micah and I have been at my mother's in Maryland since Sunday.  My mother had surgery on Monday so we were on hand to be of whatever use, and Mom's home only has a dial-up modem since she is only about three notches above Amish, and I have little patience with dial-up at this point in my technology-spoiled little life.

Monday we had a early wake-up call so we could be on the road to Southern Maryland Hospital by 6:30 am.  Mom was supposed to be there by 7:30, three hours prior to her 10:30 surgery so that she could have some sort of tracer put in that would help the surgeon define if there was any lymph node involvement.

We showed up promptly, got her registered and sat down to wait.  Micah was along for the ride, so we were stuck in the solarium.  Times have changed, thanks to H1N1.  Three years ago Thea was with me for Mom's knee replacement and we were everywhere: the surgical holding area (because Mom's surgery was delayed for hours and hours), the recovery room, and her hospital room.  Now visiting hours are strict and no one under age 18 is allowed beyond the lobby and solarium.  People were wearing masks, but I couldn't tell if they were people who were fearing acquiring the virus or those who had some sort of symptoms.  Either way, the masks did not inspire much in the way of confidence.

We met Mom's surgeon when he came out to a) chastise yet another person (having already told Mom) that she was to have been at the hospital at 7:00 am, no 7:30 am, and to b) to let me know Mom would be sitting in a cubicle by herself because I could not go back there "because of the child" - which he said in a tone of voice one would use to say "blistering case of herpes."  He was not campaigning for the Miss Congeniality award, and I was left with the hope that he had phenomenal surgical skills to make up for his utterly lacking charm or people skills.

And in my mother's defense, NO WHERE on any of the the papers that she was given by either the surgeon's office or the hospital was the time written down.  So fault lies with the surgeon's office.  Period.

Meanwhile back in the solarium, after exhausting the markers and paper, the wooden trains and whatever else he could get into, Micah started working the crowd, making all sorts of new friends.  At one point he was on the loose, circulating throw the room giving everyone high-fives - which most people seemed to find amusing or at least a diversion while waiting to hear from their patients' surgeons.  A lady who sat at our table asked if Micah had microtia, and she had a niece who has unilateral microtia, so it was interesting to hear about her experience (the niece is now 19 years old or so, I think - my brain was only half-engaged in the conversation, the remaining bits were focused on keeping an eye on Micah and how long until we heard something on Mom), but she digressed into nursing, the National Archives, multicultural families and a myriad of other topics that my un-caffeinated brain failed to absorb.

On our way to Maryland we stopped at the AT&;T store because my wall-charger for my cell phone went missing - and my car charger ($4.99 on eBay) died months ago, and my cell phone's battery was near-depleted.  As we were leaving the store, the sales clerk offered Micah an old non-working cell phone, which for about the span of 72 hours was his prize possession.  We took a break from the solarium to go out to the car to find it and got to watch a LifeFlight helicopter take off from the landing pad near the ER entrance.  Micah was fascinated, and waved at the pilots until I thought his arm would fall off.  After it took off, we were back in the waiting area, ready again to torture the assembled masses.

After the surgeon came out around 1 p.m.  to say all had went well with my mother, Micah and I took off to get gasoline for the car and to head over to National Harbor.  We were going to hook up with my cousin who would take Micah for a few hours so I could go back to the hospital and see my mother.  He fell asleep in the car, but after he woke up we parked the car and went down to "The Awakening" sculpture and Micah occupied himself with that traditional little boy pastime of throwing pebbles into the Potomac.

Micah got handed off in the Fleet Garage at National Harbor, getting to ride in Thea's booster seat (exigent circumstances, I know how to get her seat in and out, his requires a degree in engineering which I do not possess) and I headed back to the hospital, arriving there with 40 minutes to kill. Visiting hours for the evening are 5:00 pm to 7:00 pm, and from the number of people hanging out in the lobby, exceptions to the rule were not being made.  So I twiddled my thumbs, figured out how to check my email via my cell phone (who knows what that will cost on next month's bill), changed my ring tone and cleaned out my purse.  And I still had 30 minutes to fritter away after all that.

When I finally got signed in and my visitor's badge clipped on, it was 5:05 pm.  I headed up to my mother's room, almost dreading what I would find - in 2006, after her knee replacement, she looked like death, was out of it from the medication/anesthesia, it was not pretty.

But when I got to her room, there she was sitting up, watching TV, looking pretty much how she did when I last had seen her that morning.  Minus the real estate removed by the surgeon, which wasn't really noticeable given the surgical drains in place.  It was a shock, a very pleasant shock.  So we hung out, she got to eat her technicolor liquid dinner (yellow chicken broth, green gelatin, red cranberry juice, brown tea) while we compared notes on the surgeon, etc.  Her nurse (Liz) was very nice, and while I was there the cardiologist came in to see her (when the surgeon mentioned that he would request that the hospitalist see her since Mom's physician doesn't come to SMH, I said to him I hoped it was someone with better people skills than the last hospitalist from her knee replacement, so the surgeon opted for cardiology to round on her instead.   Cardiology dude was very nice, was thorough and had some humor and personality under his white coated exterior.

I reclaimed Micah from my cousin's, he'd gotten a chance to play with Elise and Henry, and all the bopping around had taken its toll because he was asleep before I was over the Wilson Bridge.

Both the cardiologist and the surgeon said Mom could go home Tuesday or Wednesday, the surgeon thought she'd want to stay until Wednesday, but Mom got discharged on Tuesday, walked off the floor and down to the lobby to wait for me to pull the car up, and then when she saw the car, she came strolling out on her own, just about 24 hours after getting out of surgery.  Mom's neighbor was recruited to stay with Micah in the car, so we all had lunch together at Mom's.

She took it easy for the rest of the day, but the only pain medication she took was for her knee.

The next day, 48 hours after surgery, Mom wanted to go to the bank and check out the farmers' market at the St. Mary's County Library.  She was on the hunt for green beans.  Then we went down to another farm where we'd been a few months earlier to let Micah play on the wooden train.

While Mom was checking out the apples and pumpkins, we checked out the train and the goat pen and goat barn (or Goatel, as the farm calls it.)  Micah was trying to bond with the baby goats, but the baby goats were more focused on their meal plan, the udder.  And Micah sees a large pink, finger-like protuberance near the hindquarters and declares "IT'S A PE-E-E-NIS."  Which, of course, in his mind, it is.  Any dangling, wobbly bits between the rear legs MUST be one. 

So after trying to explain my mother's surgery to Micah - a necessity since he was right there while I emptied the drains and changed the dressings - and failing miserably to distill cancer and mastectomy into something manageable for the three-year old brain, I was now having to figure out how to explain that teats and udders are not penises and testicles.  Again, without benefit of caffeine for my aching synapses.

Anyway, I think he got the message because after the farm, we went to Applebee's for dinner and we were talking about what we saw on the farm and Micah looks at my mother quite earnestly and says in his loudest Micah voice, "And that NOT a PENIS, that where the MILK comes from."  Nice.

Meanwhile and far away, I spent the first three days off the electronic map before getting a little bit of time at Borders.  Free Wi-Fi, a beautiful thing,  free Wi-Fi and access to an electrical outlet, even more beautiful thing.

The New Ear, Chapter 4 and 5

Up the Turnpike for a 9:10 am with Dr. Choe.  Brutal timing, and we were behind schedule and the route taken to the Turnpike did not have a single drive-thru Dunkin' Donuts.

Short and sweet version:  One sponge out, canal cleaned out with a little bit of suction, two sponges in, minimal snivveling, antibiotic drops with dexamethasone added, appointment in two weeks, declined lollipop(s) (total shocker), dropped off at school at 10:25 am.

The doctor is guessing that it may take a total of three cycles of this (four more weeks, two more appointments) to make sure it is really working and the canal is staying open without narrowing.

And to add a rant, I tried putting the Tobradex drops in for a refill and (bleep)-ing CVS's recorded voice on the automated refill line had the nerve to tell me that it was too soon.  Fortunately I have the means of getting around this, but it's just annoying.  And this medicine is the difference between an incredibly delicate and costly surgery going to down the tubes or not.

Just got an email from Micah's surgeon - we've got a tentative date for his next surgery, March 23, 2010.  Our eighth wedding anniversary.  Instead of  gifts of bronze or pottery, or the modern suggestion of linen or lace, we'll be getting dressing changes and ear drops.  And a child with two auditory canals, and neither of us has to go shopping for it.

Photos from Micah's Teacher

I don't know why I can't get this one to enlarge.

It's almost as if he knows I detest printed scrubs.

Does she know that the stethoscope is not in her ears?  Even I know where the earpieces go.

Monday, October 19, 2009
Summit Speech School

Meanwhile the little doctor is off to see the big doctor on Wednesday to see what's up with his ear canal.  Will the sponge get removed, and if removed, replaced?  Or will he be free of it, for now?

Requiescat in pace

He gave the eulogy at my father's funeral in 1998, and whatever he said on that day, while not memorable in a word-for-word sense, eased the transition into a world without my Dad.  He went to high school with my mother.  He and his wife have been there for many of the major events in my family's life, from my wedding, to flying to Chicago numerous times while we were living there in the 1970s, to coming to visit us while we were in Germany in 1971, to my mother's 75th surprise birthday party, taking me at age 14 to National Airport to join my parents and brother in Chicago and that's just the short list.

I have saved for Thea the email I got from him after we sent out her adoption referral photo because it gave me a connection to memories of my father, "Wouldn't Willi love to pinch those chubby cheeks?"  In one sentence it was the perfect laugh/cry moment, especially since most of his children endured many cheek-pinchings from my father.

And on Friday, he lost his own battle with cancer, after a long and courageous fight.  The world of those faces from my childhood grows smaller yet again. I can only imagine what his wife and family must be feeling.  I hope they are finding peace, I hope in whatever my naive imaginings of the afterlife, Ray has tracked down my father and they're catching up and enjoying each others' company again, that's what I'm holding onto for now.

Rest in peace, Ray Rooney, you will be missed by all who were fortunate to have known you.

Weekend at Oma's

Weekend at Oma's - late departure from Princeton, so after the first 30 minutes of 'how much longer until we get to Oma's", exhaustion kicked in and both kids fell asleep, and were so asleep that I could get them from the car into my mother's house, and they were still sleeping.  Thea was plopped on the sofa, covered with her 'soft-soft' blanket and surrounded by her tigers, and there she stayed.  Micah managed to sleep for 90 minutes in the bedroom, giving my mother and I time to talk without someone interrupting us - until he came wandering out, and since my mother and I were still chatting and snacking, he hung out with us, playing with a box and tissue paper, jumping off the beds in the guestroom and having way too much energy for 2 am.  Fortunately, he zonked out fairly quickly (after the drink of water, I want my puppy, I don't want socks, my nose is running schtick).

And I crawled into the bed that Thea usually uses, pulled her 100 good wishes quilt over me and went to sleep.  Until 7:30 am when Thea came in to use the bathroom attached to the bedroom, stopping by to whip her quilt off of me, leaving me cold and awake.  Luckily the blankets I usually use were on the floor next to the bed, so it was just a matter of covering up and going back to sleep, for another 30 minutes until Micah woke up.

After Oma's special breakfast (and I still can't figure out what she does to her scrambled eggs that makes my children gobble them up), we started to get ready for the day - the one big agenda item being Elise's 3rd birthday party at 3:30 pm.  Then I remembered that we wanted to go to the German Deli in Falls Church before going to the party, fast forward two children into clothes, fast forward getting organized and out the door.

Quick stop at the Hallmark store to pick up ornaments that my mother had ordered and buy a birthday card (having forgotten the Backyardigans card at home).

Then we put the German Deli's address in the GPS and took off.  And the GPS bombed miserably, probably due to all the new construction around the Telegraph Road exit.  In its second attempt, the GPS sent us back on the Beltway and around to the Route 50 exit. The GPS has a little bit of vindictiveness programmed into its soul.

Somehow we managed to buy one bag of stuff (one pound hard salami, chocolate, a box of Bavarian dumpling mix, etc.)  What I wish I could buy or package is just the smell of the place.  It smells like my grandparents' store.  I manged to gross Thea out by showing her a toothpaste-like tube of a striped  mayonnaise and ketchup combo - I always thought that mustard and ketchup in tubes were neat, but the striped condiment in a toothpase tube was a little nasty even in my mind.

Meanwhile in the middle of shopping, Micah threw out the "I have to go pee-pee" alarm.  We already imposed on the German Deli in July, so it was time for creativity, which turned out to be opening both car doors and letting him aim for under the car.

He topped this by announcing at Panera's, after overhearing my mother and I talking about his graft site, "You want to see my owwie, Oma?" while dropping his trou, and his underwear.  For Micah, Panera = opportunity to be naked or partially naked.  Fortunately we were in a booth, walled in on two sides, so the only one that Micah flashed was the guy working on his Mac opposite us.

After lunch we went to Christine's for the birthday party.  Both kids were acting shy, Thea feeling that she was too old for a party with a bunch of three-year olds, and Micah because he was in one of those moods where he was mimicking whatever she was doing.  Then he ran his hand along the deck's rail and got a splinter, a big one.  And after I remember I clued in that I had a needle in my bag out in the car, we got it out and got him banadaged up with only a few tears.

Thea slept for a second night on Oma's couch, so I got another reprieve from the floor.  Sunday Fred was coming to detail my car and Lorrie was coming out to see us.  This gave me about an hour to go to Target and Safeway.  The LaPlata Target's photo department's computer totally managed to screw up the order, making the CD in record time, but losing the 74 prints I had picked out.

The car is clean and shiny, thanks to Fred.  We managed to eat out, after my mother threatened to stay home because she was ready to brain Thea for having a mini-meltdown.  Mom and Lorrie went off to Mimi's Cafe to have a glass of wine, we stuck around to get all the stuff I removed from my car loaded back in.

And so ends a good weekend, filled with lots of boring details.

Photo Catch-Up

 Autumn Moon / Lantern Festival

At the Firehouse in Chinatown in Philadelphia

September 26, 2009

Photo Credit:  The nice firefighter who sold us a t-shirt for Thea must not know how to frame a photo to take full advantage of the mural on the wall.

Thea's School, getting ready to march.  Where's Thea?

There she is!

Even a pigeon stopped to check out the parade. . . .

Going down Race Street.

Welcome October!

It's creeping up on two weeks since I've written anything - and with that comes the feeling that I MUST write something, but to me blogging should be for enjoyment, not out of any sense of obligation.

We're now about nine days away from Thea's birthday, and still no solid plans about what to do for it.  The obligatory cupcakes and stuff for school, once I find out about any food allergies in her class.  Last year since school was so small, I made goody bags for everyone, but now the pre-K and K is as big as 1st grade.  Making almost two dozen party bags just is not on my agenda.

Thursday and Friday the other NP in the office and I got to attend the Pri-Med CME conference in Philadelphia.  First day we drove, which was fine until we got over the Betsy Ross bridge and hit traffic.  Friday we drove to Haddonfield and took the PATCO high speed line to 8th and Market and walked to the Convention Center.  It was nice have that feeling of being a commuter again, not that I would want to do it on a regular basis.

The conference was good, just long sessions.  But Karen's friend Judy got us seats in the back (easy exit) right near an electric outlet - and I dragged my laptop along both days so when both my mind and my butt started going numb, I could get some work done, check email and otherwise entertain myself.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, we had the first parent-teacher conference at Thea's school.  Not terribly exciting: she's reading at an early 2nd grade level, her Chinese is impressive given that she gets utterly no reinforcement at home (unless you count playing her favorite CD of Chinese songs at bedtime) and she's otherwise a good kid.

Thea and I seem to be getting over our upper respiratory infections just as Steve and Micah are starting out with the same.  Micah's nose has been running like a faucet and he has a total aversion to wiping his own nose due to not wanting to get his hands messy.  He's not allowed to blow his now per his ENT's orders - not that Micah even knows how.  He does the sound effects of nose blowing, without the actual blowing out of the gunk.  Next appointment is Wednesday, and we have an IEP meeting at school that day as well.  This time the school district's case manager is actually venturing out to Summit School for the meeting.  Earlier this year when we were in the thick of the IEP she said that she 'always got lost going up to Summit.'  Now she's either got her bearings or has a GPS because the meeting is there so she can observe Micah.

Last weekend we went to the Autumn Moon/Lantern Festival in Philadelphia's Chinatown.  Thea's school was carrying a banner in the parade, and a group of parents and children had dinner at Rangoon, a wonderful Burmese restaurant.  Both Thea's and Micah's lanterns did not survive - Micah was running, tripped and fell, ripping his lantern; Thea's Pokemon lantern's wire broke.  But minus those two little glitches, the kids had a great time.  Thea watched a martial arts demonstration that just fascinated her, Micah got to go in a bounce house - despite our fears that children twice his size would bounce him into a pulp.  I'll be able to upload photos later today.