Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Yesterday, I left the house before the sun and little man awoke (and safe to say before most of you). I came back long after he was sleeping (and safe to say after most of you). A long day in the far, hot, high desert. I promised I'd come in and kiss him and again, I had to stick around a little to see his chest move, cause the old breathing is gone. At least back then I could tell he was obviously alive and breathing from our bedroom. It was like sure telltale. It's like moving from NY to LA and missing the noise. But you get used to the quiet quickly and enjoy the better quality of life. And that's what it was all about.
Anyway, the story about Theo's surgery, from my perspective is not always from first hand account. When I'm not around, Orit is quite reliable as a source and always quite detailed in her storytelling. I asked how the day was and she nodded. All she knew for certain was; 1) That she's just about had had it with the double clap (and I really wish there was a way to write down or describe better the sound effect of the action when she did it because it's much more profound than the words double clap, and, it came with a priceless expression). And 2) and in starting 2, she started to crack up, actually helping the demonstration of imitating the high pitched froggy voice and mannerisms of little man, nailing it spot on. And we laughed. And that was hot...
Morning came with a quick meltdown that was swiftly controlled with a quiet holding from mom. He gets moments of pain in the throat or ear. He can't swallow. And it makes him cry. Which makes it worse. He can't help it. And neither can we (which makes it worse). So we just roll through it. And then it goes away and he's fine for another while. We had another moment when he and I were at Starbucks. There was no chocolate croissant and the pain revisited, simultaneously. That was the perfect storm. That too passed. And we walked it off. And now our old friend Rowan came over for a few hours. And it's as if they just saw each other yesterday (I believe it's been a good six months). They're making a concoction outside and doing their thing. A head apart in height (Rowan being a giant and little man being called that for a reason), but as one head together. Another moment, in their moment. Thus, I sit down to be in mine.
We have our post-op appointment with Dr. ***** today at 2:45. Should be interesting to see how he manages to get Theo to open his mouth enough to see what we're there for to begin with. I've tried several times to get a look deep enough to see anything, but the mouth won't open wide enough for me. We had a talk, him and I, about that on our Starbucks walk. And about what I see as the great success in the breathing department. He gets it. He knows it's true and understands the health aspects. He gets that it will have to be different with the doctor. It's a different relationship. But sometimes I also momentarily forget he's actually only 6 and lives in the now. And now, he feels like shit and the last time he saw the doctor he put him under and caused everything in the first place. So it ALL sucks! And that's cool with me. I get it. It just takes a moment to get that understanding and some work to maintain it. So we'll see what the doctor says...

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