My fraught Friday (a nativity play and two eye operations)

Oh, my! Your responses to my last post were absolutely extraordinary. I can’t tell you how much you all lifted my spirits and helped me get me through the past few days. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Bloggers are peerless when it comes to supporting a fellow blogger through a tough time. So yes, we made it through last Friday. But it wasn’t just Sam’s surgery occupying my mind. Oh, no, that would be too simple for this crazy planet ☺. As you have probably gathered by now (see here and here for example), we don’t do things by halves on Planet Baby. No, siree. So gather close and I’ll tell you about my fraught Friday.

After a restless night worrying about Sam’s surgery, our day commenced early with the little man starting his fast. Not a good start, was it? Hmm. Mr PB took Joshua to school and then helped me distract Sam for a few hours. Then we bundled India and Sam into the chariot to head off to watch Joshie’s school Nativity Play. It really was such a sweet little event. He and his fellow Kindergarten classmates walked in procession to the local church, led by Jack the donkey. Here’s our proud shepherd in his fetching costume.

Here’s the procession of angels, wise men, shepherds, Mary (clutching dolly Jesus) and Joseph, wending its way down the street.

Joshie was an absolute champion, singing lustily away to the 10 or so songs he’d  memorised. He stood guard with his fellow shepherds most conscientiously, clutching his stuffed toy lamb. Cuteness personified! Here’s a tableau of the children. See him, up the back, about the third from the left in his orange costume, holding his staff and lamb?

Mr PB spent the (seemingly interminable) half hour trying to entertain an increasingly fractious, hungry and tired Sam. I stood up the front with India to get a better view, swapping her from hip to hip so she could see. Hmm, I felt every one of those 15 kilos! And all the while, I was checking my watch. Talk about cutting it fine – it finished less than an hour before Sam had to check into hospital!

Anyway, Joshie was delighted with how it went. So was my Mum who was so proud of her oldest grandchild. Then it was action stations. Joshie’s costume was hurled off and we hopped back into the chariot to take Joshie and India to my in-laws’ house for babysitting. Then we raced to the day surgery with Sam. And met my Mum and Dad in the waiting room. Would you believe it – my Dad had surgery scheduled with Sam’s surgeon as well! After more waiting with our tired, hungry, thirsty and cranky little camper, we finally got the green light to get him ready. Mr PB was decked out in his fetching surgical gown, slippers, hat and mask. A bit like this, taken just before Joshua was born.

He accompanied our baby boy into theatre while I fought off tears. Fortunately, the anaesthetist used a mask to administer the gas so Mr PB was needed only briefly. Then the wait began.

I flicked idly through a magazine, unable to concentrate. Then, all of a sudden, my PND hit me with a thud. Tears welled up. I felt just dreadful, like my jaw was dragging on the floor. Like I was burdened with a huge weight on my shoulders, dragging me downwards. Flashbacks of the pixies’ 6 previous operations came flooding back. Oh, and the 7 operations I’ve had in the past 7 years. Hmm, not pleasant. And still we waited. Then my Mum ducked off into town so I had to keep my Dad company. He was very edgy. As I was helping him with his pre-theatre meeting with a nurse, I heard Sammy scream. Torn, I had to wait with Dad until he was finished. Then I tried to flee into the recovery area to find my baby. But they made us wait. For 10 minutes. Sometimes 10 minutes can seem like a lifetime.

Then I ran over to him, screaming his head off in a nurse’s arms, his eye bloodied. I scooped him up into my arms. He was hysterical. Nothing could calm him. I sat in a recliner chair with him as he cried, screamed, struggled and tried to scratch his eyes out. Just like last time. Just like all the other 6 times with the pixies. Every time, they’ve emerged from an operation absolutely hysterical. This went on for about an hour. It took so much energy to try to restrain his wriggling, contorting little body as he tried to scratch his sore eye. He worked up a sweat so we had to strip off his clothes. Then finally, he submitted long enough to drink his bottle. And then another. Then he fell into a deep slumber. Finally.

Eventually, we were given the all clear to return home. Dad was still in the waiting room, his surgery delayed. He was pensive. Mum still hadn’t returned. But I had to leave him there and take my baby boy home. For lots of cuddles, some Nurofen and an early night. Mr PB was an angel, ‘on call’ all night on the couch closest to Sammy’s room. Fortunately, he slept through. We’d made it through our fraught Friday. Thanks heavens for that.

And here’s our happy little chappie on Saturday. The eagle-eyed might just see the redness in his left eye. Oh, and the remnants of his war wounds from learning to walk! Aren’t children amazing the way they can bounce back so quickly? Just miraculous.

We saw the surgeon this morning and he was delighted with what he saw. Now we just have to wait and see whether the surgery has worked. We’ll see him again in the New Year. Fingers crossed he likes what he sees. And what’s more, I hope Sam does, too.