Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Children's Hosptial---Day two
(see post of June 6 for Jon's trip to the Zoo)

We caught up with Jon after his surgery late Monday afternoon to see what he'd have to say about the experience. At 22-months-old, Jon is a boy of few words; those words are "fwuck," fuh-fwuck," "nunununu," "topmuhma" {translation: truck, fire truck, no, no no no, and stop mama}. But if you try real hard you can read his mind in his facial expressions. And this is what he has to say....

I should've known something was up when daddy came in to get me before the birds started singing in the morning. Usually, they are happy when I let the sun come up before I call them to get me out of bed. But this morning, there was dad, waking me up and getting my shoes on. Where were we going so early? I wondered.

When the big glass doors magically opened and I heard the choo choo's whistle, I thought: I've been here before. More magic doors and a ride up on ewhawaiter, i think they call it, to a big open hall with lots of chairs. These friendly people in white coats asked how I was.

What are they thinkin'? I wondered. It's early, where's my juice, and somebody get me some cereal. But all they offered was this stiff piece of cloth with funny pictures of kids on it. Off came my clothes and on went the funny, stiff, cloth. Then, they let me push this big cart through more magic doors that opened in front of us. The cart was heavy, and cold, but I pushed it right through the doors. I looked back to see if mommy and daddy thought I did a good job and they were gone. What the......?

Then some nice lady picked me up and told me they'd be back but I had to lie down on a bed. Yeah, right, I thought. No way. So I screamed as loud as I could and this hood came down over my face with funny air.

The next thing I know, there's mommy. And boy, does my back hurt. My throat hurts , too. I couldn't even keep my eyes open. But mommy and daddy and grammy and pops and nana were all there when I opened them again. We were floating down the bright hall way in and out of magic doors. When they lifted me up and put me in the big bed I could not even believe how much it hurt. I made a big sad face. The saddest I could manage. And someone asked if I wanted some juice. What good is juice? What have you people done? I got the impression everyone knew something I didn't.

I heard them talking, though. The doctor came in and said everything was fine. (And he's a doctor? How does he know? Ask me...i can tell you things are not fine!). They believed him, of course. I couldn't move, and things are fine. I was stuck face down at the wrong end of the bed and my arms wouldn't work and I couldn't move because it hurt. The doctor, brilliant guy, suggested I might need to be morphed. Or maybe he'd give me morph. Whatever it is, I felt better right away.

The big wad of bandaid across my back is pretty uncomfortable and my throat hurts like crazy and they are pretty determined to make me drink an ocean of juice, but I'm ok otherwise. My thumb is glowing red and this screen next to my bed blinks and beeps when I tap my fingers against the glowing red light on my thumb. My dad jumps up and looks when I do it, so it's fun to do every now again. The other tubes taped to my feet and arms aren't any fun. And they don't seem to do anything unless the nurse comes and pushes buttons and squishes something into the machine.

I bet today will be better. I've got train movies and truck books to look at. I think there are dogs on the roof and lots of kids to play with. Maybe I'll get morphed again.

[note: Jon had surgery for a double aortic arch]

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