My site is undergoing a makeover, after a hideous hacking take-over. Stuff will be flying around all of the place for a few days, so please excuse the mess.
Wednesday morning I heard Cailey weeping face down in the carpet. The flair for drama? I have no idea where she gets it. I hobbled over on my crutches, and pulled her up onto the couch to hold her, and stroke her little blonde head.
Between sobs, I was able to get out of her that she was afraid of her pending throat surgery. Scheduled for the next day. But I knew that. She had been talking of little else over the last week. Deep furrows creasing her brow.
She was going to be having surgery at the same center where I’ve had my last 2 knee surgeries, so I was able to give her the lowdown about what to expect. She’s been quizzing me nearly non-stop. She’s one that needs information.
She does not inherit THAT from me.
I prefer to stick my head in the sand, go to my happy place, and softly sing “Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head” to myself. Ad nauseum.
We all cope in different ways. Some choose to be armed to the teeth with information. I prefer Burt Bacharach.
The sobbing continued until we were able to steer her toward the subject of what she would be spending her bravery reward money on.
From what I understand, when posed with surgery, her father offered her a $10 Reward for Bravery, to be spent on whatever she desired. However, with the help of her doctor, by the time she left his office the ante was up to $100.
As the banker, I did not sign off on this, but the joy I saw on her tear stained face as she made up her laundry list of desired toys was most certainly worth $100.
Fiddledaddy took her shopping on Wednesday afternoon. She came back with two ballerina Barbies, and one pose-able Toy Story Woody doll. One ballerina was for her, and the brunette one was for her sister so that she would have someone to play with. The Woody doll was for one 5 year old brother so that he would leave the two sisters alone to play Ballerina Barbie to their hearts content. Without fear of Barbie Ballerina decapitation from a younger brother with a thirst for violence.
And it worked too. That little blonde headed girl is a smart one. While her purchases did not add up to $100, they may as well have, because with the addition of all the ice cream she can consume for a week, you would have thought it was Christmas in the House of Fiddle.
Cailey’s surgery went just fine on Thursday morning. Emme accompanied her little sister so that she could play with her while she waited. However, upon arriving in the crowded waiting room, Emme got cold feet about playing with Barbies in front of other people.
Ten is such a cruel age. You want so much to be all grown up, but yet are not ready to put childish ways behind you.
I stayed home with Jensen, and received texts and updates from Fiddledaddy. When he called to tell me that Cailey was walking down the hall in her little hospital gown to the operating room, I hung up and cried.
And then I thought about crying a little later when Fiddledaddy e-mailed me a picture of her stitches and subsequent drain, hanging out of her neck. And no, I’ll spare you all the evidence.
She is resting comfortably at home now. She has only needed the throw up bucket one time, and blissfully I missed that episode since I was laid up in another room with an ice pack draped across my still-swollen knee.
My timing, it is impeccable.
On Friday I’m going to have the stitches removed from my knee, and hopefully have a long heart to heart with my doctor about WHAT’S WITH 2 SURGERIES? AND WHY AREN’T I DANCING BY NOW? Answers would be good.
And Fiddledaddy is doing a fine job keeping all of us alive. This Father’s Day will not be celebrated in the manner that I would have preferred. I just hope he knows how much we love him and appreciate him!
Thank you all for your sweet e-mails, prayers, and well wishes. The Fiddle family is on the mend.