Upon returning to the lobby, she informed us that she was starting to get scared (waiting rooms seem to do that to everyone), but kept herself calm. Soon enough, she was called back. This time, I got to go along with her. The first place we went was a small room with a chair in it. The surgeon came in for Kirstin's consultation, wearing a very expensive suit and an air about him that said, "I am a wonderful surgeon, and very successful." He turned out to be very nice (Dr. Schiro, if you ever need one in Lansing) and gave Kirstin a choice. She could stay awake to have her teeth removed, or go to sleep.
She had no idea what to say to that; silenced by her utter horror at the idea of having 10 injections into her mouth. I gave her a minute to stare at him in complete terror, and replied that I thought sleep would be a better idea. He agreed, and wandered off to get her some 'medicine to drink' to get her ready for a nice nap.
At that point, Kirstin had her one regression to self-doubt. "I don't want to do any of this," she said. The nurse and I pointed out that there was no choice in the matter; but in the end, the only way I got her to drink that cup of foul-tasting sedative was to drink a cup of it (well, Vernor's, which looks just like it in a blue cup) along with her. She's such a distrustful little soul!
After drinking the 'medicine', we walked to the actual treatment room, where her eyes opened wide at the sight of the lights, the big chair, and the masks and hoses on the anesthesia stand. Happily, the nurse had the good grace to have concealed all the instruments from the chair's line of sight. Kirstin sat in the chair with her Momma Bear in her lap, and informed us that she didn't want to put that mask on.
Five minutes later, she looked at me, and said, "Momma, you've got four eyes!"
She smiled hugely at me, and I realized I was watching her get stoned.
A few minutes later, she was laughing, informing me that the walls had changed shape, I looked like a bumblebee, and she didn't know where she was. She was sure she needed her glasses though, because it was getting hard to see.
I stayed until she was completely asleep (having not even felt the needle prick for the general anesthesia) and went to the waiting room. It was already an interesting experience, however very stressful. Then I got to sit forEVER in that dumb waiting room. This was an hour-long procedure, with an hour beforehand getting her to drink the 'crazy juice' and an hour afterward while she woke up, and stopped bleeding.
It turns out that none of her roots had dissolved at all, so the baby teeth had to be removed like any adult tooth would. The extractions required stitches, which well need to be removed next week. Icky.
When she woke up, I was sitting next to her bed, and she told me, "I don't want to have my teeth pulled out." She didn't realize anything had happened. It took me a half hour to convince her it was over.
Much to my suprise, she immediately cheered, and wasn't all that squashed by the anesthetic. She was fully able to walk to the car, and didn't doze off on the way home. It was a little after 5 PM by the time I got her settled on the couch in front of the Power Puff Girls, and while she seemed to be fine, I was feeling VERY stressed out. I sent Forest after soup, Jello, and Sprite, and Bill to get the prescription for codiene syrup. No one had informed me that this was going to be such a big thing. I thought it was just a dentist visit, that these were normal baby teeth that wouldn't have any roots, so they wouldn't be tough to extract. I had had no idea what I was getting Kirstin into, and for her sake had been forced to pretend I knew exactly what this was all about, and was calm, cool, and collected.
Actually, in fact, I was really pissed off. They didn't even tell me which teeth they were going to remove. No one gave me any information on anesthetic choices before hand, or informed me that there would be a day of bed rest required on the other end. They were perfectly nice to Kirstin, I can't fault them for that; but damnit, I'm her mom, and I ought to know what the hell is going on.
The oral surgeon further unwittingly irked me by beginning the consultation with, "That can't be your mom; she's too young." That might be funny for a 40-year-old mom, but it's not funny to me. He asked how old I was, and Kirstin told him. "Wow, you were eighteen," he said.
As if that is any of his business, or anything to joke about.
I ought to chill out about that. I can't let it be a hypersensitive topic for me forever. I pretend it doesn't matter to me in public, I need to convince myself to ignore it on the inside, too. These weren't bad people. The surgeon stitched up the 6-inch tear in Kirstin's Momma Bear's neck during the procedure; he must have the nicest of intentions.
Unfortunately, after events like that, I'm left to wonder if I was kept in the dark about all of the procedures because of my age? Did they not believe I was really her mom, or what?
My irritation with the whole situation had me quite stressed out, not to mention that I hadn't eaten since dinner the night before; almost 24 hours earlier. Kirstin had been forced to fast for 12 hours prior to her 1 PM appointment, and I would have felt rude eating in front of her. Forest came home, and made it all better.
The first thing he did was give Kirstin a beautiful pink rose in a vase, and a kiss on the forehead. She was happy to see him, and I think his words of encouragement from the night before had really stuck with her, because she gave him a very unemotional, concise summary of how it had all gone. She doesn't remember anything past the 'medicine' until she was home watching Power Puff Girls.
Forest immediately set about making tomato soup, and let me vent my personal frustrations quietly, out of earshot of Kirstin. I got big hugs, soup, and grilled cheese, and felt much better. We took turns taking a nap, while Kirstin downed 3 bowls of soup, 2 cups of jello, and a huge container of Sprite! She was HUNGRY, and still feeling no pain. Cool.
When I woke up, Kirstin and Forest were both snuggled up on the couch, watching The Little Mermaid. I can't explain to you how really great Forest is with ailing urchins. He just knows exactly what to do, has the right mix of gentleness and silliness. He was a great comfort to me, and to her. He explains it away, saying he was a sick little kid a lot himself, and just remembers what it's like. I think he has a talent.
We decided to ward off any possible pain by giving her her first dose of the codiene syrup just before bedtime. Kirstin always balks at medication, but somehow Forest made it tolerable for her, and she gulped it down, despite its obvious effects on her taste buds. You should have seen the face she made!
Then, Forest gave her a choice. Either I could go to Lansing and play with my friends, or he would. She said it didn't matter to her... so I was nominated. Forest was sure I needed a break, I think.
It took me a while to work up the nerve to go, but then it slowly dawned on me that Forest was extremely capable of this, Kirstin was upright and smiling, and bedtime was quickly approaching. After going over all the instructions with Forest and kissing Kirstin twice, I got ready to go. I overheard a snippet of conversation between the two of them, which was something like this:
Kirstin: Why doesn't momma want to go into town?"
Forest: I think she's worried about leaving you at home, and not staying to take care of you."
Kirstin: "Awwww, that's sweet."
After that when I came into the living room she was giving me a big smile, and they were both shooing me away.
I only called once to check on them, and I guess everything went just fine. When I got home, I went up to kiss Kirstin goodnight, and found her happily asleep just as always, and Forest just getting out of the bathtub (his favorite place to be.)
This morning Kirstin was up before I woke her, and smiling, and getting dressed. She reported a big headache, which we nipped in the bud with her medicine, but she still wanted to go to her grandma's for the day. My mom agreed to it, despite the regimen (medicine every 4 hours, bed rest, and heat packs every 30 minutes), and I dropped Kirstin off to my very impressed mother. Apparently everything is going fine today. Her teeth still haven't hurt her; as the codeine wears off she just feels a little headache coming on, and then my mom doses her again.
I'm sure you didn't need this much detail, but it's a relief to me! When I had my wisdom teeth removed, I was in misery for 3 days. I was afraid this was going to be similar. I guess little kids have better recuperative powers. Of course, I can't mention my reason for concern to Forest, because I am still trying to convince him to have his removed. Heh heh.
Maybe I can hold his hand while he tells me I have four eyes and look like a bumblebee.
I'm thinking I may skip taekwondo class tonight, though. Kirstin will probably need to be at home, in bed. I guess if she's doing really really well I might go; but instinct tells me I shouldn't rush these things.
Read through for The Dining Room is tomorrow night. I believe I will attend that, and Kirstin will go with me. It will take place in a nice quiet house with lots of comfy spots to sit; plus by then Kirstin will likely be feeling quite a bit better, and require less codiene. I'm looking forward to the read-through, because I really don't know what my parts are. I got a list of 10 characters to play, ranging in age from 5 to 85, but I don't know anything about them. The actors I'm working with are all very experienced, so it should be a fun process. The hardest part, I think, will be memorizing entrance cues. There are 18 seperate scenes, and they overlap a little bit on each end, one blending into another. It will be very difficult to remember who to be at which cue. Wouldn't it be awful to walk out in the wrong character? That's the one stage mistake that you can't improvise your way out of.
Othello at LCC opens tonight, but I don't think I will get a chance to see it. My friend John did all the sword choreography and directed it, so it will surely be a wonderful show. Still, I've been promising Kirstin a camping trip all summer long, and this weekend is looking the best for it as of right now. I went out on a limb and got reservations for a campground I'm not familiar with, but that has a big pool with a diving board. Hopefully that will make it fun for all of us, even if Kirstin isn't feeling up to hiking anywhere on any particular day. We can just hang at the campground, read, have a campfire, and swim in the pool.
Arrangements are coming together for Kirstin's birthday. We're having a bonfire the Sunday before, when many important grandparents, all the parents and Allyn can attend. My grandma Ruth is going to bring a big vat of baked beans, and I guess I'll flesh the rest of it out with cookout foods. Bill is going to bring over his grill, and we'll cook some things right over the firepit. Kirstin has discovered this, and seems to be pretty excited about it.
Tonight was supposed to be my taekwondo test, but since I'm probably not going to go, I think I will end up taking it on Monday. I'm not sure that's a good thing, though. The longer I go, the more confused I am getting about my latest set of forms. I'm not sure why I'm having so much trouble with them, but they just don't seem to flow together as comfortably as the rest. Happily Master Kim is kind and understanding, and will excuse my absence this evening if I have to miss it.
