I am completely preoccupied today. This morning, I tried to make coffee without water. Then I fed the dog the cat's food. I'm out of it. But, I have an excuse. For the last 2 weeks or so, I've been dreading July 18. Now I'm less than 24 hours out, and I have no idea what to do with myself.
Those of you that know me, or followed me on social media pre-blog, already know the saga of my daughter's spider bite. The CliffsNotes version: She was bitten (the doctors say it was a black widow, but for the purpose of this story, we'll call it a venomous, 8-legged, hellbeast) during an egg hunt on Easter Sunday. And, just about every waking second since then has involved wound care, medications, doctors visits, pain management, and tears. 109 days of this, and the bite still will not heal.
I hate spiders.
Tomorrow morning, the saga continues. She will go into surgery to have all the damaged tissue removed. Hopefully once this is done, the area will heal on it's own. No more medicine, no more hot saline soaks, no more tears...from either of us.
I should be happy that we're so close to the end of this story. But, if I'm being honest. I am freaking terrified. The idea of strangers wheeling my unconscious child away from me is just not appealing. At all. This is the first time in my 11 years as Mother-in-Chief that anyone besides myself, or my husband, will be in control of one of my children's well being. I'm driving myself nuts about it.
I'm a mess of nerves.
And I hate spiders.
My daughter, on the other hand, is handling it like a champ. We avoided telling her about the surgery, thinking that telling her in advance would just give her more time to worry about it. I finally had the conversation with her yesterday. She asked some pretty smart questions (about how much it will hurt after, and what happens if she wakes up while they're working), then she went to watch TMNT. She's fine. She's not excited about it or anything. But, she's anxious to get it over with. She's ready to have her arm back. And, she's thrilled to be able to eat all the Reese Cups her grandmother sent her when the surgery is over.
She's even planned the outfit she's wearing to the hospital. She's going in full Ninja Turtle regalia, so that everyone there will know that she is tough and brave. (Yes, I know. My daughter is awesome.) She asked me if she's going to act like this kid when it's over. I promised her that if she does, I'll take video so she can see it. I think that's what she's hoping for, so at least she'll have a funny story to tell. The apple doesn't fall far...
I know most of you have been through some sort of scary situation with your kids. It happens to all of us at some point, and every parent is sensitive to the absolute helplessness of having a sick or injured child. It sucks. We all know it. But in an effort to make it suck a little less, I would love to hear from any of you who have been through something similar. Or any of you who dread going through something similar. Words of encouragement, tips for tomorrow, questions I should ask, or maybe there is something you've thought of that I've forgotten to panic about. I'll take them all and be grateful.