Surgery and the Happy Ones on Picture Day

When a nearly five year old
screams in your lap;
I don't want anybody cutting you under with a knife!
You wish it was just an idiomatic expression to blame.
How did he overhear that? I feel like a sloppy mom in pain now.

I explained that no one would.
That it was just going to be a little procedure
to make mommy better, soon.

When he handed me the dinner knife
this morning and asked me if I needed to take this one with me,
or did the doctor have another one,
I knew it was time to talk about this a little more.

Then he hurled his brother's toy across the room.
It was a toy his brother was playing with, alone.
A toy that was in his hand before Gargantua-Sam grabbed it from him.

In need of comfort anyone?
In my arms, still, I explain
how the doctor is going to help Mommy's
pain go away.
Gently, with a little tube, and a camera, and a
straw.
No knives, nothing to fear.
All of this whispered in his close and closed ear.

All of this while careful to hold close my own fear.

Marcel walks by holding my slipper.
Mommy's slipper is sad. Mommy's slipper has an owee.
He needs a little help too is my guess.

***

Pain meds not being conducive to parenting, or teaching
or blogging but have
meant Herculean Help in the form of our
amazing extended chosen family and Uncle.

It has been a rough two weeks.

***

I am home and comfortable after a surgical procedure.
Can I just leave it that?
Pain and medication free I write.
In my home, propped up in bed with pillows, water, and a little light.

The nurses should all be sainted
with their empathy, care, skillful calm, and compassion.
Can I just leave it at that?
The doctor's lack of good choices around patient care
might just merit a post of his own.
Unless I can just leave it at that.

flashback---
Alone in a hospital bed, wrapped only in dread.

(Breathe, breathe, breathe I can hear my neighbor Sarah saying
when I was in the ER three days ago wailing.)

Looking at their picture,
taken last year on Picture Day,
in my palm I exhale.

Sammy offered for me to take his (shredded disgusting lovie) blanket
with me. He did not offer again today-
Thank goodness-it wouldn't fit under this sterile pillow.
I breathe in all that empathetic four and three quarter year old goodness.

And tears are soothing.
Cry.

When the nurse asks you if you are alright sweetie?
Lie.

Yes, I am anxious. And yes, not having morning coffee
(who knew the lack of just one cup of instant could)
make me all knotted up.

Looking at the wall with the monitors and the Patient Rights
as the stiff johnny gives reluctantly under my non IV arm-
I twist and curl over
to whisper into my arm-
Let them find nothing.
Take the pain please.
Return me in health to these boys who I was meant to mother
for a long, long time.

And then a little longer, please.

***
When I came to, I asked for my phone.
I called their daycare as promised.

I had left his teachers a note-
Sammy is worried about me.
I will call him to reassure him that my visit to the doctor went well,
that when he sees me this afternoon I will be all better.
I will not be able to speak to him directly (or I will cry).
Please relay my message at the appropriate time.

They did.
I think we both felt better.

He did great at school-
picture day.
He chose the tie.
We cut it to make it fit.

He wanted to look good for me he told me tonight.
And mom you're going to love the one where I was kissing Marcel.
Its really going to make you cry-
your happy ones.
Your happy tears.