On The Second Day of Fourth Grade, Micah Played Hookey

Micah had a Way Too Early O'Clock appointment for the replacement of his left ear tube. Right up until his appointment 2 weeks ago, I had never thought of his ears as separate entities, but rather a single organ merely separated by a head. Now I have to worry about his ear tubes coming out individually every other month, thereby ensuring that we are the hands' down winner of the frequent flyer card at the OR.

Which reminds me, I forgot to ask for our stamp today. At some point, I'm going to win something for having that thing filled. Like maybe real cream at the free coffee station.

The good news is that the right tube was on it's way out today, so it was easily removed and able to be replaced at the same time the left one was. We like the ears to remain a set around here. We don't like thinking of them as individuals.

Micah gets full scores for bravery today, and some bonus points as well. This being the ninth time he's been through this procedure, he is well aware of what's going on, and he was able to maintain all bowel control today. It made me so proud. The anesthesiologist, however, got a score of (-13) on a scale of 1 to 10. He was the nicest guy ever, explaining to us what the drugs do and how they affect Micah, and providing us with information we needed to make decisions for the future. But then he went and totally ignored the fact that I said, "Micah needs anti-nausea drugs. The anesthesia makes him sick."

It was a shocker to nobody that Micah came out of anesthesia sick. I was one unhappy mama, but am all about giving people the benefit of the doubt. I'd requested the drugs, and then we launched into an in-depth discussion about Versed vs. Valium. (It's drug talk, not a poetical debate.) So it was easy to see how he could have forgotten about the anti-nausea drugs, because with conversation that stimulating, one's brain can be distracted. But then, after watching me hold a barf bag for Micah for the third time, the anesthesiologist said, "Now I have on record that he really does get sick after sedation."

It's a really good thing Sam was there or I may have hurt that man. I had to settle for mentally thrashing him with a frying pan.

So while Micah felt just fine and requested to go home every five minutes (punctuated with an occasional dry heave), we had to hang out in the recovery room for 4 hours. When we were finally (FINALLY) released, it was with incredibly strict instructions to start sipping clear liquids before moving on to things like applesauce and dry crackers. "And please, honey, hold your mom's hand as you walk to your car. I don't want you falling off the sidewalk. You could still be groggy."

So Micah and I were able to get on with our day and run some errands. At the first stop, ever the rule follower, I had Micah walk up the handicap ramp instead of taking the steps. No exerting himself or anything. Not that I was *really* concerned, because I know that the boy is never down and out after surgery. Micah was kind of thrilled to take the ramp. Once at the top, he turned around and practiced his long jump right back down it. I shook my head, laughed, and said, "You're supposed to be taking it easy there, Bucko."

And I kid you not, Micah pointed to his feet and said just as clear as anything, "It was the shoes!"

And then he asked to stop at the convenience store to get a hot dog with onions on it. And I let him, because I know that if he's well enough to ask for food, he's well enough to eat it, even if he hasn't had the required BRAT diet yet. Turns out, I know my boy better than the doctors do. Go figure.

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