Anchorage: Day 3

The alarm went off at 4:45am this morning, so that I would be able to get myself showered and ready and still have plenty of time to rouse Seren, get her dressed, and meet the cab at the front door by 5:45am. Poor Seren didn't want to wake up--she even told me she'd rather sleep than get her eye fixed, but minutes later, we were brushing our teeth together and she was slowly preparing herself for the long day ahead. The cab was 5 minutes early, but so were we, and we arrived at ANMC just before 6am. We waited at main registration for the morning shift to arrive, attached her admittance bracelet to her ankle (it was way too big for her wrist), and headed upstairs to the Day Surgery clinic at around 20 minutes after the hour. We had about a 15-minute wait before we were taken back to the surgery prep area, which was plenty of time for Seren to get silly with excitement about her procedure. She was given a child-size hospital gown with sleepy tigers on it, a pair of disposable slipper socks, and a mesh head covering.

Seren being silly in the waiting room

More silliness

Taking vitals before the big show

...And then the bomb was dropped.

As I mentioned previously, Seren has a bad case of trypanophobia. So bad, the mere mention of an IV to administer anti-nausea medications to counter the side-effects of the general anesthesia turned that bright and happy little girl you see above into this:

This is not the face of a happy little girl.

 She was crying hysterically and completely inconsolable before we had even been given the definitive word on the IV situation. Finally, I did the only thing a good parent can do in these situations: I lied. I hated it. It made my stomach turn to be that deceptive, but it was the only way I could get her to calm down. I said, "Let's try this. How about if the nice nurse right here [wink, wink to the nurse beside me] gets you a Band-Aid to put on your hand, right here? That way, when you wake up, if the Band-Aid is gone, you know they poked you, but if it's still there when you wake up, you know you're alright. They can't put the needle in your hand through a Band-Aid, right?" The nurse caught my drift and had a Band-Aid waiting before I even finished my talk with Seren. Seren accepted the conditions, although hesitantly, but it was enough headway to get her to take a dose of Versed to calm her down enough to take her into surgery. Another 20 minutes went by and she was singing nonsensical songs to the stuffed animals the nurse gave her to hold. And then she was wheeled away.

My next stop was the cafeteria. I certainly wasn't sitting around in that waiting room on an empty stomach.

Egg-A-Mooby-Bagel, yogurt + granola, and a Mocha Frappucchino

After breakfast, I headed back upstairs to the waiting room and well, I waited. I made a good advancement on the book I brought, while checking the flat-screen monitor with patient updates regularly between paragraphs. At nearly 10am, her doctor appeared before me.

"She's all done," he said, then went into an account of the details of the procedure. Apparently, she did very well while on the table and everything went swimmingly until the doc lost sight of the end of the tube. He explained that this wouldn't have been a problem, except that the tube could not be recovered while in the tear duct, so it had to be removed and he had to start over with an endoscope. Again, this wouldn't have been a problem, except that the doc rarely uses the endoscope and so he is relatively unpracticed at directing it through such small areas. So the on-duty otorhinolaryngologist was called in to supervise this part of the procedure. It is not known where the end of the tube mysteriously disappeared to, but it is known for certain that no damage was done. However, the meticulous use of the endoscope lengthened the estimated time of the procedure significantly. A small price to pay for a job well done, in my opinion.

A few minutes later, I was called into recovery to see Seren. But she wasn't there yet. So I sat and waited, camera in hand, so you could see this picture:

Also not the face of a happy little girl

It was explained to me that Seren's needle phobia continued into her unconscious, anesthetized state and she, apparently, woke up in a screaming panic. The nurses said they had never seen a child with that severe of a phobia. They told me they were stunned by her reaction and heartbroken that there was nothing they could do to calm "such a sweet girl," so they called me in early, so that she could cuddle up with me as soon as she came out of the operating room. She was only awake enough to curl up into my lap after the nurses handed her to me, but immediately passed out cold for another hour.

While she was sleeping, one of the nurses helped me take the IV catheter out of her hand and place a fresh Band-Aid over the place where the first one was taken off.

When she woke up on her own, she did it far more peacefully than when under the anesthesia. She slowly regained her motor skills and got her feet underneath her, before we carefully made our way to the cafeteria for her to eat the first food she'd had since pizza last night, a banana. By the time the banana had been reduced to a slippery husk, she was wide awake, chipper, and talkative. She had also discovered the needle mark under the Band-Aid on her hand.
"Those tricky people!" she said. "They poked me through the Band-Aid!"
"Are you okay? Does it hurt?"
"No, I'm fine. But that was very tricky."

I packed up some extra food and some Jell-o from the cafeteria to take back to the hotel with us and we took the first shuttle back. Seren immediately took a shower, changed into her pajamas, and finished a container of Jell-o. Then we just relaxed and watched tv for the rest of the evening.

I did get an important call this afternoon, though. Since Seren's surgery went so well, her post-op appointment was cancelled for tomorrow and we will be flying back home first thing in the morning! Since we have to be up early for our 8am flight, we will be going to bed soon. But first...

Thank you for all of the love and support we have received this week. Seren was so happy to read the comments, emails, and text messages from all of you. It meant the world to both of us.

Anchorage: Day 2

Today was far less busy and exciting than yesterday, but it was a good day nonetheless.

We woke up at 6:00 this morning, in order to get ready and eat breakfast before boarding our shuttle to ANMC at 7:30am and arrive at Seren's pre-op appointment at 8:15am. After breakfast, we had about 20 minutes to kill while waiting for the shuttle, so we milled about outside the hotel and Seren made friends with a very nice family from Nebraska, who was vacationing in celebration of the elder patriarch's 80th birthday. Many remarks were made about how clever and bright Seren is and Seren ate up as much attention as she could glean by showing off everything she knew about electricity, lightning, the solar system, and a dozen other topics. You'd think this scenario would get old, but it doesn't. I love how much she enjoys sharing her knowledge of the world around her with people that she meets. Teaching is truly in her blood.

After the family left on their tour bus, we spent some time looking at the potted flowers in the parking lot of the hotel. I introduced Seren to the clever design of the snapdragon flowers and taught her how to open and close the "mouth." She found this highly amusing and it proved a good way to pass the time.

We arrived at the hospital in plenty of time and checked in at the ophthalmology clinic. Seren was restless with all of the waiting before entering the doctor's office, which did not help her already built-up anxiety due to a life-long case of trypanophobia. When we were taken into the office by the nurses, she sat down and described her dread. To her great relief, the nurses explained to her that they "don't do needles in this clinic" and that there would neither be any blood tests today, nor any iv medications tomorrow (assuming there are no out-of-the-ordinary circumstances while she is anesthetized). In fact, the anesthesiologist will be using a general anesthesia administered by a gas mask. Seren was so excited by this idea, instead of the iv catheter, she was literally bouncing up and down in her seat.

Dr. David Chamberlain, M.D. is a practicing family doctor, who specializes in ophthalmology. He flies down to Sitka once a year to address patients with specialized opthalmological needs and refers them to ANMC for further treatment or prescribes a local treatment that may not need advanced care. He saw Seren about 9 months ago during of these visits and will be the doctor presiding over her procedure tomorrow. He is a very nice man with a kind, upbeat manner. Seren is very comfortable with him and was excited when he explained what would happen after she falls asleep tomorrow morning. He talked to us about the procedure, made sure everyone was on the same page, swabbed her eye to see how much goop was backed up in the tear duct, set the appointment, and signed all the paperwork. And that, as they say, was that.

So the upshot is that Seren's surgery is scheduled (first!) at 6:30am tomorrow morning and there will be no cutting, needles, or otherwise intrusive equipment used. The procedure itself will take about 15 minutes, but because general anesthesia has to be used, we expect to be there anywhere between 1 to 2 hours. She is not to eat or drink anything after midnight tonight, until after the procedure is done. There will be no need for any analgesics to be prescribed, however, an optic antibiotic steroid has already been prescribed, just in case it is needed.

After we wrapped up everything there, I had to scope out our transportation options for the morning, since the regular shuttle does not run before 7am. It was a good thing I checked, because the hospital issued a voucher for us to take a taxi. Again, this saves me out-of-pocket costs and Seren is very excited to get to ride in a taxi.

We had an early lunch, there at ANMC, before taking the shuttle back to the hotel to watch some tv and take a nap.

Since Seren doesn't get to ingest anything after dinner tonight, I treated her by taking her to the mall behind our hotel and doing some window shopping. She ended up with a new swimsuit, a bag of jelly beans, and a couple of gifts for Daddy & Porter. After killing about an hour or so at the mall, we walked back to the hotel and ordered a pizza and a bottle of root beer, which we have just thoroughly enjoyed in front of the tv in our room.

It's still only 6:15pm here, but we will be heading off to bed soon. Our taxi will be here at 5:45am and it's going to be a long day. But before I sign off for today, here is one of the very last pictures you'll ever see of Seren with a goopy eye.