This week things did not go as expected. We had been dreading the Ides of March (March 15) for weeks. That was to be the day of Marcos's tonsillectomy. We were as ready as could be--Edgar was going to be off work for five days, he and our kind bishop had administered to Marcos for his operation, and my mom had put Marcos's name on the prayer roll of the temple. I had done my part by buying all kinds of juice, ice cream, popsicles, fancy straws and a special cup, pudding, and yogurt. I also bought three new movies and rented two more.
The night before his surgery, I had a hard time falling asleep. I was worried about my little guy. At midnight, he started making a lot of noise. He sleeps through the night every night, and I thought it unfortunate that he was awake on a night when he couldn't even have a drink of water. I decided to let him go back to sleep, but he kept talking.
Marcos kept saying, "Rashi (his name for Ruben), wake up!" I finally went in to find that my poor little pre-surgery patient had thrown up. He said, "I threw up, Mom. See?" I did see and I gave him a bath, changed his sheets (we've always kept all the twin-size sheets in Lili's room since she has two closets--that night as I fumbled in the dark for clean sheets, I realized how inconvenient that can be), and got him back to bed.
I called the hospital--they had said Marcos had to be healthy for two weeks before his surgery. The nurse I talked to said they would probably still do the surgery since Marcos didn't have a fever and since he wouldn't have anything in his stomach. I couldn't sleep and an hour later, Marcos called for me. Throughout he was very upbeat and seemed to feel fine. I'd told him to call me and not Ruben. As our deepest sleeper, Ruben wasn't Marcos's best option in the night. Marcos had thrown up again. New pajamas. New sheets. No bath this time. A half hour later, another cheerful "Mom, I need you," brought me to Marcos. New pajamas. New sheets. Again, no bath. This time, a brilliant idea--a little bowl to throw up in for Marcos to sleep with. He used the bowl for his last little episode at 2:00 am. I hadn't slept and why hadn't I thought of the bowl in the first place?
I called the hospital again. The nurse still thought they'd probably do the surgery, but wanted me to call back at 6:00 when the surgery nurse would be there. I didn't sleep too well until 6:00 when I got to talk to Twila (gotta love her name), the surgery nurse. She said they would not do the surgery. "But we're all ready...the other nurse said we could...my husband's off work...we're having a baby soon." Twila was unmoved. "If he vomited during surgery, it could be fatal." Oh. Never mind, Twila. We'll reschedule. Our new date to dread is April 12. Edgar will have to take the day off work, but we'll still have the new movies, the straws, and the fancy cup (I cleverly put them away) and the ice cream and juice will make it until then if I keep them hidden.
The day after his surgery was supposed to be, Marcos got up and said, "Mom, did I get my tonsils out?" Not yet, sweetie. When you get them out, you'll know it.
For my parents: here's a picture of the St. Patrick's Day snowstorm you missed yesterday. I think we got 8 inches of nice, wet, mud-inviting snow!