We’ve done a lot since our last blog post, including two cast changes, Thanksgiving, and a quick trip to San Antonio. Rebeka was a little drowsy on “preparation day,” so while we pressed crust into pie pans and stirred up the sweet potatoes she drowsed in the middle of the kitchen island, taking up residence like the princess she is (but claims she isn’t). We had her all set with a pillow and a big towel to keep warm.
The next morning she was more alert and ready to put together the spices for the apple pie. Alayna proudly chopped a whole lot of sweet potatoes, and I am happy to say she can now assemble a sweet potato casserole all on her own!
The last few weeks I’ve been feeling a little funky, even with the excitement of Thanksgiving and putting up the Christmas decorations. I think part of it has been the fact that Rebeka has been in more pain. The recovery room and seeing her hurting is no fun. And because of the pain we’ve been getting up during the night for meds and going out less. More cooped up in the house with movies or Uno for distraction. Blech. That’s how I felt last night. Today would be another procedure. The possibility of staying overnight at Dell, depending on how the nerve block and cutting of the tendon went. This morning, Rebeka was all smiles, even though she knew she was going in for another OR visit, complete with yucky-tasting medicine and waking up in recovery with pain. When I woke her up this morning she grabbed Georgie by the hand as she sat up in bed. She was ready. If she could be that chipper, surely I could follow suit, but my funk was hard to shake.
As we waited in a small room for her doctor to finish with his previous procedure, Rebeka wheeled herself out of the room, teasing us that she was not coming back. Dell has a whole fleet of ride-on toys in the hall, so Clay set her on one and pushed her for a few circuits around the halls. Big grin. Giggles. And almost immediate mastery of her car’s small turning radius and the ability to avoid obstacles. Then it was time for the “yucky medicine,” otherwise known as Verced. She almost gags it tastes so nasty, but we’ve discovered it’s good to be drowsy before they wheel her back. It isn’t nearly as scary that way. A few swishes from the sink in the bathroom to wash out the taste, and she was good to go. While she went back to the OR, Clay and I snagged our usual spot in the waiting area and I went to get our coffees and breakfast tacos. Only they were out of breakfast tacos. Grrr. I knew there were parents out there with kids much sicker than Rebeka, and problems much bigger than ours, and I should snap out of it, but funks don’t listen to reason. They just settle in.
When we got the call that Rebeka’s procedure was done, we gathered up and headed back to hear from her doctor and then find her in recovery. The first thing I noticed as we walked into the large recovery room, lined with beds on each side just like in the Madeline books, was her SHOE. That’s right, a shoe.
It’s funny sometimes the things that kick a funk away. The glimpse of that black shoe on her left leg cast, Velcro stretched across to hold it on, lifted my spirits and sent them humming at full throttle. Progress! This was all really working. There’s a light at the end of our tunnel. Her vitals looked great, too. Her blood pressure the last couple weeks as she’s come out of anesthesia has started at 140 over 100-ish, so this week’s good numbers, coupled with a relaxed face and the ability to focus on the movie in her lap, made the recovery room a breeze. The nerve block her doctor gave in her right leg, before he cut the tendon, had something to do with it, too.
We may have already decked our halls, and I may have shown Rebeka Santa at the mall and let her ride the little train, but Santa and trains and decorated trees don’t make a holiday. A heart filled with comfort and joy and the promise of things to come does. I never would have guessed that a little black Velcro shoe held the key to lifting me out of a funk and catapulting me into December with a smile on my face and peace in my heart.