The night before surgery, I prayed to God, my brother and my mother-in-law to either help the surgery be a success or give me a big, unmistakable sign that it was a bad idea. Well, a sign I sure got.
Monday morning at 3 a.m., mere hours before we were due to leave for the hospital, I noticed the light in our hall bathroom on a ad a familiar sound echoing within the porcelain. Yep, The Quiet Contemplator had a tummy bug. You really can't get a bigger sign than that other than the damn same-day surgery wing of the children's hospital burning own.
Worried that the tummy bug would take its usual course through our family and knock us down one by one like a row of vominous dominoes, I called and canceled the surgery. Because who wants to be tossing their cookies when their throat has been sewn back together a few hours or days prior? Not I, said the fly.
Well, today The Cool Cucumber is tossing those cookies, over and over again. His sister was so sweet to share her esophageal parasites with him. Their close like that. If I had blown The Quiet Contemplator's spewing off as just an anomaly and went ahead with the surgery, The Cucumber would be busting open fresh stitches with an incredibly high risk of hemorrhaging (one of the biggest risks of adenoid removal). Excellent.
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| Crayons aren't the only thing they like to share... |
Now was this tummy bug a sign, or just a coincidence? I may never know, but I know I sure as hell have had enough bad vibes about the adenoid removal that I won't be going forward with it unless it is 100% necessary. As I said last time, I don't believe that adenoid removal is a bad thing AT ALL. The Cool Cucumber just has problems coming out of anesthesia and I believe is at an increased risk of bleeding after. Plus, when your mommy instincts kick up as much as mine do when adenoid removal gets brought up, you listen.
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