Apparently, my mom would be a pretty funny drunk, if she drank more. See what you think.

I arrived at the hospital around 6:45 on Monday morning. She and my sister had been there since 5:30 am, as required for a 7:30 surgery. She was changed and in the bed, but no one had come to do the prepping yet.

As we talked I could tell she was a bit anxious, but really not too bad. I expected a lot more angst and “don’t forget where I left the will” and “don’t forget where I put the funeral plan” and such. Actually it was pure denial that anything could possibly go wrong; which is sort of her “manic” way of dealing with stressful situations. I guess I was expecting the “depressed” way. (She does not have an official bi-polar diagnosis, but I’ve sworn over the years that she could have gotten one had she asked. Or if they’d asked me.)

So anyway, finally around 7:10 the O.R. nurse comes to check her. Mom starts asking all sorts of questions the poor woman couldn’t possibly answer. “Will they put in an artificial knee cap?” “What will the post-op pain be like? Dull and achy or sharp? or like a bruise?” “When will I be discharged?”

The O.R. nurse kindly explains (2 or 3 times, if I remember correctly) that mom will need to ask the doctor those questions.

Then comes the anesthesiologist who explains that he would like to do a spinal block instead of a general anesthesia. He explains the benefits as less nausea post-operative, an easier “waking up” because you are sedated and not under a general anesthesia and better pain control with a time-release morphine administered interthecally. (spelling??) He asks about allergies and she tells him that she is not allergic to any medicines, only pollens and food. He doesn’t pursue it.

Enter the lab tech, who begins to try to put in the I.V. No dice on the left-hand. Over to the right. Good to go. He’s chatting away. When he has her all set he tells her that he’s going to turn on the “happy juice” that’s going to relax her and get her ready for the spinal block, which they’ll do in the O.R.

He turns the little valve on the bag and I watch the clear liquid course down the tube and into my mother’s vein. I watch her eyes go from clear to crossed and her speech begins to slur and she begins to have trouble holding up her head. All within a count of 5.

I move to her left. My sister is on her right and we try to get her to lean her head back (I was really worried she’d tip forward and fall out of the bed!)

And then, she begins to talk.

Oh, I wish I could convey to you in writing the slurred speech and inflection of my mom on goofballs!

She takes my face in her hands and gesturing to the lab tech and the (now returning) anesthesiologist and says:

“I’m just so proud of you! See this one! She’s my high achiever! She just does so much. I’m just so proud of her!”

And, turning to my sister (and releasing my face, thank you):

“And this one! She’s just my little bubble of joy. She just keeps everything bubbling along with joy!”

At this point, I turn to the guys and say (laughing)

“Any chance we could get a quart of this for home?”

They’re trying not to laugh, but Sister and I are laughing our asses off. As they begin to wheel the bed out of the prep bay and down to the O.R., Sister has to pry her hand out of my mom’s hand.

We laughed about it through breakfast and decided that, given the fact that she wouldn’t remember a thing anyway, we were going to tell her that she promised to take us both to Mazatlan after Christmas.

So far, she’s believing she said it.

— — —
A year ago (or longer) on This Journey…

Thorny Thursday 2007
JV player of the year 2005
i luv the flu 2005

— — —
A year ago (or longer) on This Journey…

Thorny Thursday 2007
JV player of the year 2005
i luv the flu 2005

— — —
A year ago (or longer) on This Journey…

Thorny Thursday 2007
JV player of the year 2005
i luv the flu 2005

Posted on October 25th, 2006 under my crazy life. RSS 2.0 feed. Leave a response, or trackback.