My Daughter the Drunk

As a preface to the writing for the day, all should know that Maggie came through the ear surgery like a real trooper... a real trooper with a drinking problem.

This morning, before the sun woke up, we bundled our little baby up and gently placed her in her car seat, making the trek to Children's Hospistal for a routine surgery to place tubes in Cricket's ears (maybe I will tell you in a future update why I call my daughter "Cricket"). Routine seems such an oxymoron when it comes to surgery, but the morning could not have gone better. Upon arriving at 5:30 AM, the nurses placed Jodi, Cricket and I in a room, equipped with ESPN (for daddy), and a great little concoction the nurses like to call "happy juice". The syrupy liquid, fed through a small syringe, quickly sent Cricket into an almost comatose slumber, snoring and twitching as she lay in her mother's lap. Before we knew it, they whisked her off for the surgery. On the journey to the surgical room, Cricket woke up just enough to question her whereabouts and how she had arrived on an elevator, in a patient crib, with a weird-looking nurse. The look on her face gave the perception of a drunk man, forcefully taken away from his bar of choice, only to find himself in an odd alley where he had never ventured.

This look would follow her for a little while after the surgery as well, which took just long enough for daddy and Mark Nelson to walk to and from the local Starbucks a block down the hill. By the time I arrived back in Cricket's baby Hilton, mommy informed us the doctor had finished the surgery, tubes now found new residence in our little girl's ears, and she would return to her room shortly. As we found out, Cricket needed the tubes. As the doctor made an incision in her right ear, he noticed that she produces glue ear: a painless condition that occurs when thick, sticky fluid (resembling glue) collects behind the eardrum. Because of it's thickness, it does not drain like normal liquid that can form behind the eardrum; therefore, it just sits there and remains for quite some time. The condition results in temporary hearing loss. Imagine sticking your fingers in your ears and attempting to listen to conversation; you can still hear, but everything seems muffled, unclear. Glue ear does just that.

But enough with scientific explanations. From a non-scientific viewpoint, the day worked itself out miraculously. Cricket returned to us in that groggy state, holding a newly-acquired bear the anesthesiologist gave her. She had this distant look in her eye, like the sedative had not completely wore off, yet she seemed like she did not care; she sort of liked the free, relaxed feeling it had forced her in to just an hour earlier. We joked about her drink-of-choice for the morning, then cracked more jokes as the nurse brought her a grape-juice chaser to go along with her drugs. Soon, our visitors left, Cricket showed signs of recovery, and the hospital gave us our discharge papers. In all, what we initially feared would evolve into a miserable day, began and ended well after just three hours.

Now, my daughter sleeps in her own bed upstairs, my wife has entrusted me with taking care of her while she runs to the pharmacy, and I... well, I still have not breathed. Maybe tomorrow.

EPILOGUE: Mark and Monica Nelson: a deep thank you echoes from our souls as we think about the time you sacrificed this morning.