Remember yesterday, when I mentioned leaving the chalk outside in the rain? Well one of Ellie's little buddies in the neighborhood found it yesterday evening, and the two of them sat and played for a bit. While his mom and I chatted, I failed to realize that my sweet little girl was eating yellow chalk.
Ellie looked guilty, and she was chewing. And drooling yellow. Chalk isn't easy to hide in your mouth.
I performed a chalk rescue operation, and Ellie had a steady stream of yellow drool for awhile. She was coughing and making faces.
That has nothing to do with Ellie's upcoming eye surgery, which should be the focus of this post, but I thought it was important to share. Blue chalk might stain, and yellow chalk tastes gross.
You may know that Ellie has a blocked tear duct in her right eye. This is pretty normal for kids, but most times the duct de-clogs itself. Ellie's eye is still constantly gunky after a steady dose of eye ointment and massage, so she gets her eye probed. From what I understand, the procedure is super-simple, but does require her being put under. (Really, I don't think that's because she's a baby. If you want to stick a probe in my tear duct, you better knock me out first, too. But please don't probe my tear duct.)
Tomorrow at some point, we'll head to the hospital, and if all goes well and we're one of the first two appointments, we'll be home in time for lunch.
I'm not experiencing anxiety about the procedure, and I am confident that Ellie will do just fine. (But if you want to pray that everything goes according to plan, please do! That'll be my prayer as well.) I'm actually amazed by the "no big deal" attitude I seem to posses. And then I remember why this is no big deal, because of all that Ellie has already survived.
I received what I assume is a standard phone call from the hospital asking me to go through Ellie's medical history. These calls always surprise me, because I'm 99 percent certain that the person calling is looking at Ellie's medical history. Prior hospitalizations, surgeries, anesthesia and other health issues are covered. What I assume is a short conversation with most families is a long conversation for whoever calls me. Ellie has a long medical history in her short 13-almost-14-months.
Tomorrow, I'm going to try to remember what it was like to be in that waiting room for open heart surgery. And I'm going to remember to be thankful that this is simply a tear duct.
In the surgical waiting room is a board where the operating room numbers are listed next to a code for the child in each room and the surgery status. There's a special spot for cardiac surgery. I'm going to keep a close eye on Ellie's board and pray for my little girl, but I'm also going to keep an eye on that heart board, and pray for whatever parents are clutching the two way pager, waiting for news of their little one.
And I'm going to pray that tomorrow is our final trip to the surgical floor. We know it well. The doctors in those operating rooms have saved Ellie's life twice. While eternally grateful for them, we hope to see Ellie live our the rest of her life without surgical intervention.
PS. This post is photo-free because I got a new computer, and I'm trying to back up, reinstall, redownlad, etc.