The Weekly Peanut, Issue 27
All previous issues that started out with "what a week it's been" seem somewhat trite now, considering how we spent the last 7 days. The peanut is no place for doom and gloom, since I got that out with the "Worst Case Scenario," I'll just be outlining the peanut's journey through a big C scare, and some other fun things we managed to do along the way.
I was probably less nervous than some mothers might be about the whole anesthesia/ surgery thing, since this was not Daphne's first time going under. The new wrench thrown in, on top of having to fast from the night before, was that the hospital wanted us to bathe Daphne in antibacterial soap both the night before AND the morning of the surgery. D hasn't been super keen on bath time recently, waking her up with no boob and putting her in the bathtub? OH LAWD here we go.
Thank goodness Dr. Miller had us booked for the first surgery. We had to get to the hospital by 6:30, so I waited until the last possible moment to drag the kid out of bed and plop her into the waiting tub. Due to some brilliant foresight on my part, I had a paci waiting to shove in her mouth, and she bore the bath with surprising silence. When we got to the hospital, we had to wait a little bit before being taken back to pre-op. Here's where I prove that I AM A PARENTING GENIUS. Daphne, in recent weeks, has taken her enjoyment of Yo Gabba Gabba and really turned it into almost an obsession. She walks into our living room and grabs the remote and points it at the TV, grunting until we put an episode on. She dances along with some of the songs, it's really cute. So I downloaded 4 episodes of YGG to my IPhone for the waiting periods. Worked like a charm. That kid didn't care about anything but that show on my phone.
Back in pre-op, D watched more Gabba. Then the nurses were taking her around to see how she did socially (if she'd freak out being taken away from us). They all remarked that she seemed pretty well-adjusted, but just to make sure, they were going to give her a little cocktail of tylenol with something they called "baby valium." I honestly think they did this not for her, but to give Ian and I something truly absurd to witness to take our minds off the surgery. D was on the hospital bed, holding my phone watching YGG. She took the meds and the nurse said it would be about 5-7 minutes and we'd see it kick in. She warned us that her motor skills would be off and she might even get a case of the giggles. O_O Oh man. This I gotta see.
Sure enough, about 5 minutes later, Daphne started drooling onto the Iphone. Then she looked up and her eyes were droopy and she started chuckling. Ian and I side-eyed each other. She dropped the phone and then started trying to stand up. Note I said TRYING. She started cackling absurdly at her own antics, flopping all over the bed. It really was exactly what Ian and I needed. It is quite possibly the most relaxed and easy-going I've seen this kid since she came out of the womb.
They wheeled her off and we had our horrible wait for the news. When we got it and she'd come out of the anesthesia they took us back to her. The last time she came out it was pretty much a non-issue: I nursed her and she snuggled down and pretty much chilled out. This time was another matter. She was NOT happy. Tried to nurse her, let her drink some fluids and some milk but mostly she just kept screaming. The nurse decided she might be in pain and gave her some meds through her IV. That did the trick. She settled back down to snuggle and watch more YGG. The nurse gave us post care instructions and a bunch of bandages, said we could give her Tylenol if needed, and keep a VERY close eye on her to make sure she doesn't develop a fever. They warned us not to feed her too much too fast, that she might be nauseous, that she might be woozy and out of it for a few days.
One guess as to weather D did as she was expected.
We got home and NoNap McGillicutty would have NOTHING except eating. Tried fluids, eff you mom, give me food, so we gave her solids a little bit at a time. No signs of an icky tummy. We finally got her to go down for a nap around 1:30... then she stayed there for 4 hours! She came out of that nap and you would never know she'd had surgery that day: running around the living room, giggling and playing.
D's good mood carried through to Saturday, so we decided to do something we'd thought we'd have to cancel: go to the National Reptile Breeder's Expo. It may or may not be known by the larger public that Ian and myself have long been reptile aficionados, and even did some breeding back in the college days (of the reptiles, to be clear). We lost one of our tortoises recently to old age, so our sweet little Tortilla (redfoot tortoise, the name is ridiculous, don't ask) has been ridin' solo for a while. We wanted to look around for a friend for her, and just give D a chance to see some fantastic critters. D had a great time helping us pick out our new tortoise. We were thrilled to find a male who was not only captive bred by his owner (as opposed to imported), but was in really spectacular shape and about the same size of our current lady. D napped all the way home in the car, then got all gussied up for a fun dinner at Oblivion Taproom.
As part of clearing up D's lump, we had to put her on some meds. All recent experiences with medicine with D have been non-issues (who doesn't love amoxicillin??). This stuff? Not so much. We haven't had to hold her head and force stuff down her throat since the Zantac days (man I don't miss that). Some family suggested mixing the meds with something else like jelly, and seeing if she didn't enjoy that more...
Not so much.
Sunday was breakfast at Sweet Tomatoes. We ran into some friends at B3 cafe. Addison's mom was doing the baby bounce dance, "She won't let me eat! She's pretty grumpy today!" I looked at her abandoned waffles, then looked back at her, "Let me hold her." Jenn looked nervous, "She hasn't really wanted anybody but me today..." and I KNEW exactly what she was thinking at that moment, because I'd been there, too. "What if I give her to someone else and she starts wailing and won't stop even when I take her back? I have her calm now, WHY RISK IT?!" These are the sort of absurd thoughts I had when D was that age. So I looked Jenn in the eye and told her, "Just let me take her, if she pitches a fit, we'll calm her back down, but you need to eat, and I'd love to give her some snuggles for a couple minutes." So Jenn reluctantly passed me the kid, and it was just like riding a bicycle. I tucked Addison into my shoulder and started the magic bouncing/ swaying/ jiggling walk that makes babies happy. She whined for a couple seconds, but the magic walk TAKES NO PRISONERS! Within 30 seconds she was totally calm and Jenn was scarfing her waffles. Before Jenn was done with her waffles, Addison had FALLEN ASLEEP ON MY SHOULDER! Hot damn I am THE GODDAMN BABY WHISPERER! I couldn't believe I pulled that off, gave myself mental high fives all over the place. I passed the sleeping baby back to her dad and felt pretty good about my chances if we go for #2.
Sunday afternoon we went over to our friend Audrey's house for a "twinsies" photo shoot and to play with her new AMAZING kitchen play set, a hand me down from some friends. Have I mentioned that D's favorite thing is to PUT THINGS IN THINGS and open and close drawers and cabinets? Audrey was her usual calm and collected self, while getting my child to hold still was pretty impossible. Still, there were some cute moments.
Now, we all know my kid just couldn't let this issue go by without more drama, right?
Tuesday was our follow up with Dr. Miller, when we'd get the results of the pathology from the biopsy. We get there and the NP comes in, checks her over, took out the drain (no whining from the kid??), says everything looks good, takes out the drain. then she says "well the pathology report isn't back yet unfortunately, which sucks. We did a culture on the pus we took out and... it's weird... nothing grew on the culture." What does that mean? "We don't know." Well, what do you think that means? "It could mean anything." So... we're back to everything being back on the table??? "Yes, unfortunately, until the pathology comes back."
Cue that damned elephant taking a seat on my chest again.
She said she'd spoken to the hospital and the pathology report should be in that afternoon, and she would call us personally as soon as she had it. As we were getting packed up, she stuck her head back in and told us not to go anywhere, that Dr. Miller was getting the pathologist on the phone personally. So here we are... sitting... back on the fricking cancer train. Finally he comes back in "it's an infection, not malignant." Tell me what I need to hear... "NOT cancer." WOOSH. "We're still really confused by the lack of growth on the culture, but the meds should clear it up either way."
THIS GODDAMN KID IS TRYING TO KILL ME. IT CAN NEVER JUST BE EASY, OR SIMPLE, GAHHHHHH
As a special treat for the end of the issue, have a lookie at Daphne's very first selfie video.