Frankenbutt

Lumpyhead is doing great with his new and improved bunghole. It looks mean and scary with the stitches and all, but the surgery went smoothly and he is sleeping comfortably right now.

The doctor's office called first thing yesterday morning to move Lumpyhead's originally scheduled surgery time of 3pm up an hour. This meant that it made sense for Bump to come to the hospital with Lumpyhead, Bump's mom and me, which was nice.

Around 1:30pm, Bump and I went with Lumpyhead to a triage-like staging area. We changed him into a hospital gown and Lumpyhead made happy noises, despite being pretty hungry. Bump played peekaboo with him behind the curtain, and Lumpyhead laughed and laughed, much to the delight of the woman in the bed across the aisle from us and her husband.

We spoke briefly with the surgeon and the anesthesiologist, then it was time to go. I received a paper gown and cap, and Bump made endless fun of how I looked. I swear even Lumpyhead laughed at me.

Following the anesthesiologist's assistant, I carried Lumpyhead to the operating room. A nurse stopped and cooed at him. A patient in another of the triage beds said hello. The woman I was following said, "It's gonna be a pretty long walk," which I interpreted as "This ain't a parade. Pick up the pace, lady. If you stop for everyone who makes googly eyes at the baby, this is gonna take all day." I stopped dawdling. What she probably meant was, "It's a pretty long walk."

The operating room was large. I've never actually been in an OR before, but I guess I didn't expect it to be so big. I laid Lumpyhead down on the table, on top on what looked like a paper air mattress with holes. It was emitting puffs of warm air, and Lumpyhead was immediately covered with a blanket. The anesthesiologist and his assistant put EKG monitors on him, and I was instructed to hold his shoulders down securely.

Then came the mask, which Lumpyhead tried to lick off. In less than a minute, the assistant announced that he was out, so I should give him a kiss and leave. Lumpyhead's eyes were still open. I kissed him, and walked out.

And then my head exploded.

Actually, it wasn't my head. It was my heart.

A nurse walked me to the hallway for the waiting room, and took the paper gown and cap. We were told the surgery would take an hour or two, and one parent should remain in the waiting room at all times.

Bump left for the airport, and his mom and I waited. About a half an hour later, I went to find a place to pump. When I got back, Bump's mom and all our stuff were no longer where I left them. PANIC! PANIC! PANIC! I found her at the nurses' station with a volunteer, clearly waiting for me. PANIC! PANIC! PANIC!

They were done. Everything was fine. The doctor had come out and talked to Bump's mom, because I was an irresponsible parent who left the waiting room after strict instructions to be there at all times. (but I was making food! for the baby! and you said it would be like an hour! or two! Still. Bad parent.)

The volunteer took us to the recovery room, where a nurse was holding my little boy. Mine! MINE! GIMME GIMME GIMME! He had been crying, his eyelids were wet and his little eyelashes were all clumped together. I gave him a bottle, and he fell asleep almost instantly.

Lumpyhead was safe, calm, and with me. Breathe, breathe, breathe. What? Hey, the nurse is talking! What's she saying?

Yes, he's very cute, I know. Thank you or something. Breathe breathe breathe. Did I miss the chance to talk to the doctor, because I was out being irresponsible? No, we'll try to find the doctor. Breathe breathe breathe. He came out from under the anesthesia quickly and easily, was alert and looking around immediately. That's nice. Breathe breathe breathe. Hey, you look pale. I'm getting you some apple juice and crackers. What?

Okay, so apparently not eating anything all day then pumping plus PANIC! and trying not to hyperventilate equals me looking like I'm gonna faint. So I drank the nice lady's juice and ate some saltines even though I felt fine. Just fine. Except that I was sort of fading in and out of with-it-ness. What? You're talking again? I was looking at the baby and not listening to you.

I was saying you're all set to go. Here are your discharge orders. Wait, he doesn't have to be admitted? Nope.

We'd been warned that Lumpyhead would be admitted to the hospital after his surgery, maybe for just a few hours but possibly overnight. Because he wasn't exhibiting any problems with the anesthesia and the surgery had gone smoothly, we could take him home. We were told to watch for nausea or other signs of reaction to the anesthesia, but since he was only under for 25 minutes, we probably didn't have to worry.

We called Bump as we got to the car, and . . . his flight was delayed. Really delayed. When I talked to him last at 6:45pm, they were still waiting for the inbound flight. He may still be at the airport, for all I know.

Lumpyhead is subdued and sleepy, but his personality is pretty much intact and we've even gotten a few grins from him. Thank you to everyone for their good wishes and kind words; I cannot express how much I appreciate them. It was a long and exhausing day, but the little guy is fine. Hope you had a happy Butthole Embiggening Day yourself.