Our Next Hospital Visit

Gisèle has had five bouts of strep throat in the past year, and with the fifth, her doctor decided that her tonsils should come out.  She is pretty excited about it, though bummed that she won't get to ride in an ambulance like Miles got to.  The long-awaited operation is tomorrow.

I took her to the ENT's office for a pre-op appointment on Thursday.  He answered the few questions I had, gave her a high-five, and then told me to go to the hospital to fill out some paperwork.  I had taken the afternoon off and agreed that it would be more convenient to fill it out then instead of at 6am the day of the surgery, so I loaded Gisèle back in the car and headed on over.

After filling out the paperwork, I was handed back my driver's license and told to "Have a seat; Nurse Robin will be right with you." 

"What?" was my intelligent reply.

"Nurse Robin will be right with you."

"No; I was just here for the paperwork," I replied.

"No, ma'am - you're here for her pre-op."

"No, I'm just here for the paperwork.  She already had her pre-op appointment."

She looked down at something on her desk, and back up at me.  Speaking slowly and carefully, and looking straight at me, she asked, "This is Gisèle Lowery?  Having a tonsillectomy on the 16th?  She's here for a pre-op screening and bloodwork.  Sit down, ma'am, and Nurse Robin will be right with you."

Huh.  Not what I was expecting.  If I had known Gisèle was going to be having a pre-op screening, I wouldn't have let her go to town on that rainbow-colored lollipop after her previous appointment.

When Nurse Robin appeared, she laughed at Gisèle's completely blue lips, tongue, and teeth, and waved off my apology.  She took us back to a small exam room and went through the plan for Tuesday before mouthing to me that they were then going to do a "BLOOD DRAW."  Gisèle, who misses nothing, loudly asked "What's a blood draw?"  Nurse Robin retreated to go let the phlebotomist know we would be there in a minute, and I sat Gisèle down near a nurses' station and explained the procedure.  She was fascinated, and thought it was really cool that someone could look at her blood and tell whether or not she was healthy.  She also asked if she could watch them take it out.  The nurses nearby looked at me like I was inflicting some sort of cruel punishment on my child; I don't think they're used to parents telling their kids exactly what's going to be happening. 

When we sat down in the lab room, the phlebotomist very sweetly and softly started with, "Hi, sweetie.  Now, I'm just going to..."  And Gisèle eagerly interrupted with, "Are you going to take my blood out to look at it?  Can I watch?"

The stunned silence put a pretty big smile on my face.

She recovered quickly and told Gisèle she was welcome to watch the whole thing.  Gisèle was very interested in the process, and kept her nose 2-3 inches from the needle the whole time.  She never even flinched.  Afterward, while the tubes were being labeled, she chatted with the nurses all about her upcoming birthday, her new surgery nightgown, and how, "(sigh)  I just wish I could have my tonsils out today." I don't think they'll forget her any time soon.

We stocked up on ice cream, popsicles, pudding, yogurt, and every other soft thing in HEB this weekend.  I think we're as prepared as we can be.

T-minus 15 hours!