Killer Clowns from Outer Space

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At 7:15 this morning, Iz and I both headed downstairs for our morning pre-school ritual. My duties were taking Monty out to “hurry up,” feeding the cats and the dog, making Iz breakfast, and drinking a cup of coffee; Iz’s duties were getting dressed, brushing her hair, turning on the TV, eating breakfast, and brushing her teeth. Iz could always manage TV and breakfast; however, I had to really motivate her (read “raise my voice) to get her to get dressed and brush her hair and her teeth.

After I had a few sips of coffee this morning, Iz came into the kitchen. I knew there was a question coming, because it took a lot to pry her away from the TV and her chocolate-chip muffin that she enjoyed each morning on the couch; though, I appreciated the fact that she respected my right to have coffee this morning before asking me any questions. She asked, “Mommy, is today the day that Nathan’s going to dream about butterflies and fairies?”

When we went to see the oral surgeon for a consultation in regard to Nathan’s wisdom teeth last month, Iz came with us. Of course, during the consultation, she had more questions for the doctor than Nathan did. At one point, the doctor described the anesthesia to Nathan by saying that Nathan would drift off to sleep and dream about “butterflies and fairies.”

Sometimes I think Iz might know more about what’s going on in the lives of others than they might know themselves. I had briefly mentioned Nathan’s surgery last night.; however, Iz “revembers” everything. And, yes, I do have to be very careful about what I say around her.

This morning, I realized that Iz viewed Nathan’s surgery like a field trip to the movies. I answered with, “Yes. Today is the day Nathan has his wisdom teeth out.” Then I said, thinking that this was more for my knowledge than for Iz’s, “And, I think that he might dream about killer clowns from outer space rather than butterflies and fairies.”

Iz seemed satisfied with my answer and headed back into the family room to devour what was left of her chocolate-chip muffin. After I drove her to school, I had to roust Nathan out of bed. I said, “We have to leave at 9am, “ to which he responded with an unenthusiastic, “Oh,” remembering that this morning he would dream of killer clowns from outer space rather than butterflies and fairies.

Once at the oral surgeon’s office, I checked in with the receptionist. We sat down, and Nathan donned his iPod. I pulled out Philippa Gregory’s “The White Queen,” but it was useless; I was too nervous to read.

As we sat in the waiting room, I looked around at the other patients in waiting room. I noticed a boy, much younger than Nathan, to our right. I thought that he must be having teeth removed in order to install braces.

He was with his Dad. His Dad had the same post-op instructions that we were given. Just then the door opened, and the waiting room immediately became silent in anticipation; a woman wearing a blue smock announced “Adam.”

Adam, formerly known as the boy to our right, and his Dad got up and headed toward the door. As Adam and his Dad walked toward the door, Nathan began to hum, “Dah-dah-dah-dah, dah-dah, dah-dah-dah-dah-dum,” which was his interpretation of the “Funeral March” by Chopin. I was comforted by the fact that Nathan was smiling while he was humming.

The office door swung wide open, and two elderly women walked in. One of them limped toward the receptionist’s desk while talking rather loudly as she approached it. Just then, I noticed that one receptionist said in a hushed voice to the another named Nikki, “I’ll let you take her.”

When the woman arrived at the desk, Nikki asked, “Angela?” Before Angela could acknowledge who she was, she said very loudly, “I’ve been up since 4am!” Nikki got up and came out the door from the receptionist's bull pen.

She hugged Angela. (Hey, I didn’t get a hug!) Angela said, “A raccoon came down my chimney this morning. The police came; they couldn’t get it out. Then animal control came but they couldn’t get it with a dart!”

Nikki said, “Oh, dear.” And Angela said, “That raccoon pooped all over my living room!” To add raccoon insult to oral surgery injury, Angela then said, “My sister was supposed to bring me today, but she went to help a friend who tripped and she fell down too, so now she’s in the hospital.”

Angela then said, “If I can take all this, I won’t worry about having these teeth taken out!” Nikki said, “You’ve had quite the morning. I have some paperwork you need to fill out.” Angela responded, “I’ll do my best, even though I have my spare glasses. When I rushed to the phone this morning after I found the raccoon, I stepped on my glasses!”

Nikki said, “You should write a book!” The older woman accompanying Angela said, “She should!” I knew Angela would never write a book, so I thought the least I could do was write about May 27th for her.

Nikki asked, “So, you didn’t get the paperwork at 10 Maple Street?” Angela said, “No I haven’t had that address in 20 years.” Nikki said, “Well, you need to update your records.”

After Angela’s excitement, I pulled out my phone to check the time. Nathan moved closer to me to look. 9:53. I looked at him; he then looked at me, and then he smiled nervously at me. We didn’t say it, but we both knew that killer clowns from outer space were only 7 minutes away.

In about 10 minutes, the door opened, and the waiting room immediately became silent in anticipation; a woman wearing a blue smock announced, “Nathan.” Nathan got up and said to me, “Well, it’s been nice knowing you.” I got up and followed him through the door.

The blue smock led us into a room; when we entered, she said the lounge chair was for Nathan and the chair by the window was for me. I noticed all the implements on the table over the lounge chair, and I tried not to get woozie. Sometimes I can’t believe my Mom was a nurse, because I lose my composure when I see a pair of nail clippers!

The blue smock left, and then the purple smock, who introduced herself as Rita, came in. She asked Nathan if he had any questions to which he said, “No.” She said, “Well, I have some questions for you.”

Rita asked, “Do you smoke?”
Nathan answered, but not before looking at her like she was crazy, and said “No!”
Rita then asked, “Do you use recreational drugs?”
Nathan now glared at me like Rita was the one on drugs and answered, “No!”
Finally, Rita asked looking at me while she spoke and asked, “Have you ever been treated with methadone or opiates?”
Nathan said, “No!!!!!”

Rita sensed Nathan’s ire. I quickly said, “Nathan, they need to ask all these questions just to be sure there will be no complications with the anesthesia.” Rita, who obviously had a great sense of humor, said, “Well, just to be fair, are you pregnant?”

Nathan laughed and said, “Dammit. You’ve got me.” Rita said, “Well, if you’re pregnant, I want to be your manager. I can retire early then!” Rita then said, “Relax. By the time this is over, we’ll be your best friends.”

Nathan asked, “How can that be when you’re going to rip my teeth out?” I laughed. Rita, not missing a beat, said, “We are gently extracting your teeth.”

The doctor entered the room and began to get Nathan ready for his IV. He tried Nathan’s left arm with no luck. The nice thing about this process was the cool little gadget the doctor had that numbed the arm before he tried to put the needle in.

After having no luck with Nathan’s left arm, he switched to Nathan’s right arm. It was obvious to me then that Nathan didn’t inherit my veins. The people at the Red Cross loved me and the huge bulging veins in my arms.

To take the pressure off of Nathan’s arm veins, the doctor asked him what he was doing this Summer. Nathan said he had a job washing dishes at a local country club; as it turns out, the doctor had golfed there. He said, “Hey, it would be horrible to wash dishes this weekend, so it’s good you’re having this done now.” I liked this doctor a lot.

The doctor tried Nathan’s right arm; Nathan said, “Oh, all these wires.” The doctor said, “Believe me, when they invent wireless monitoring devices, I’ll be the first person to get them!” After he finally got the IV in Nathan’s right arm, I heaved a huge sigh of motherly relief.

The doctor turned around and asked me, “Mom, how are you doing?” I realized that I had been rapidly twisting around the handles of my purse in my hands; I had been doing that for the last 10 minutes. I said, “Oh. I’m fine…now.”

He then asked Nathan, “Do you want to gently fade out or go right to sleep?” Nathan looked perplexed and nervously responded, “I’m not following.” The doctor said, “You’re nervous. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Nathan looked at me, and then he started mouthing the words to “Don't You Worry 'bout A Thing” while the doctor and nurse were busy elsewhere. I knew he was nervous. But, he still had his sense of humor; thus, I knew he wasn’t terrified.

The doctor then asked “Haven’t you ever seen drunk people in movies?” Rita quickly said, “He has no experience with that.” I then nervously said, “But, he is pregnant,” and we all laughed.

The doctor then said to me, “Okay. Come around here now” and motioned me up out of my chair toward the door. I stopped at Nathan’s left side. The doctor said, “Kiss him good night.”

I kissed Nathan on the forehead. It was the hardest thing I had to do in years. I had kissed people good-bye before; however, it was knowing that they were going to sleep in a far better place and leaving their cancer-ridden bodies behind.

I walked out of the room and headed down the long hallway trying not to cry. I felt foolish that I wanted to cry. But, this was my baby, and I had just said “Good-bye” to him.

When I arrived back in the waiting room, I sat down. I noticed that Angela was at the receptionist’s desk. Thank goodness, because she was the comic relief in the waiting room today.

Nikki still needed Angela’s list of medications, two of her signatures, and to see her license. Angela pulled out her license. When Angela handed Nikki her license, she giggled and said, “Now you can see me when me when I was young and beautiful!”

While Angela was standing there, she pulled out a photo from her wallet. She asked Nikki, “Do you know who this is?’ Nikki said, “That’s Julia Child.”

Angela said, “I was a cook. We were good friends.” Nikki said, “My Mom and I loved watching her show. You’ve led an exciting life.” Angela responded, “You don’t know the half of it!”

While still trying to sign things, Angela blurted out, “I bowed to the King of England when he was just a prince. You don’t know the trouble I got into!” I laughed to myself. I didn’t know whether this woman was crazy or a kindred spirit.

Angela said, “I hope I have these teeth out today.” Nikki said, “Well, the doctor will look and decide.” Angela said, “Did you know that none of my neighbors checked on me today?”

Angela said, “In the older days, we all helped each other. Not one of my neighbors came out to check on me when they saw the police cars because of the raccoon.” Nikki asked, “Really?” Angela said, “Later, I asked Gary why he didn’t stop. He said police scare him.”

Last night, Nathan had to work late. I asked Ellen if she’d take me by the country club to drop the car off, so Nathan could drive himself home; she said, “Sure.” When we drove home, I thanked her, and she responsed, “It’s just like you said in your blog. I’m glad we’ve got each other.”

Angela left the desk and sat down next to her friend; they began to chat. Angela said, “For the last 60 years, I’ve collected religious books. I’ve studied all religions.” Her friend replied, “That’s certainly not a bad thing.” Angela then bumped up against her friend’s shoulder and said, “You think I’m nuts,” and they both giggled.

In five minutes, the door opened, and the waiting room immediately became silent in anticipation; the woman wearing the blue smock announced, “Angela.” Angela said to her friend, “Say a prayer for me.” Her friend laughed, and as Angela traveled down the hallway, the blue smock asked “How are you?” As she traveled off in the distance, I heard Angela say, “You don’t want to know about it!”

Thirty minutes later, I heard, “Jean,” from the recovery room door. I got up and the recovery nurse said, “He did fine.” I went into the recovery room, and I saw Nathan lying there half asleep.

The nurse told me that I wanted to keep him awake. She’d come back in a few minutes and talk to me about post-op issues. When she came back, she showed me how to change his gauze; as she took the bloody cotton out of his mouth, I had to look away.

She said, “You don’t have to look.” But, I knew I needed to in order to know how to change his dressings. Then I wondered how I could be the daughter of a nurse who had seen everything, and I said to myself, “Mom, give me strength!” And she did.

Nathan said, “Fwuuckkk.” I whispered, “Did you just say the f-word?” He mumbled, “Ugrhhhghgh, fwuuckkk, Fwuuckkk.” Not being one who swore much, I was hoping that this was just Nathan's one-time general comment on his condition and not Turrets brought on by his first-time experience with anesthesia.

In 15 minutes, they deemed him good to go home. He fell asleep as soon as I put car in drive. As I drove down Route 2, I felt horribly guilty.

I felt like I had when I talked with Iz the other night about our cat, Belle. I was to blame for the pain. Though, this time, it was Jean in the oral surgeon’s office with a screwdriver” or attempted murder if we had been talking Law & Order instead of Clue!

Once we got home, Nate collapsed into his bed. Before he could take his pain med, he needed to eat. And before he could eat, we needed to remove the gauze from his mouth.

I said, “Take the gauze out.” He could barely move, so I touched his jaw gently, and pushed my fingers inside. I grabbed the gauze on his right and pulled it out; I dropped it in the trash can trying not to faint at the sight of the bloody gob of cotton. I then did the same on the left side.

I got him some soupy ice cream. He ate it, along with a few of the meds he couldn’t yet swallow. And, then he fell fast asleep.

Today, I hadn’t felt this emotionally vulnerable in a while. When I took Iz for her flu shot, and it was challenging. But, when Nathan went under anesthesia, it seemed like an entirely different thing.

Parenthood is challenging. I think the most difficult thing about it is when you see your child in pain and you know you can't do a thing about it. Hopefully, when Nathan is in Europe next month, he'll thank me for this.

He’ll think, “Mom, it was a good idea having my wisdom teeth out before they got any worse.” Who am I kidding? I’ll be lucky if I get one phone call or a postcard while he’s gone, but I can dream [about butterflies and fairies] if I want to. ♥