Lucy's Surgery, or How Lucy Got Her Groove Back

Lucy had her dermoid cyst removed on Tuesday.

She and I arrived at the hospital at 6:15 am, while Jacko and Caleb stayed at home. The pre-surgery stats were taken, Lucy got into some sweet baby scrubs, and she played in the waiting room until 7:30 am. The hospital we were at has a wing devoted solely to children's outpatient procedures, and when you walk inside, you know that children are the thing. Murals on every wall, video games here and there, and easily a Toys 'r' Us worth of toys in the waiting rooms. A children's care nurse even came to show Lucy all of the things that would be used during the surgery; Lucy took to the anesthesia mask within seconds, even putting it on the baby doll they had.

When Lucy went into the operating room, they wheeled her inside while she was riding in a wagon. She didn't even look back as I stopped at the red-striped line. The surgery lasted 15 minutes, and I was reunited with her within a half hour. Children coming out of anesthesia are out of their minds, so Lucy was screaming and writhing initially. I carried her and her IV to the post-op area; we watched the Disney Channel and drank apple juice while they watched her vital signs. She reached normal levels more quickly than they had anticipated, and we were released at 9:15.

Before she and I left the house, I had the strong urge to take a picture of me and her. I knew everything would go well with the surgery, but I took the picture anyway.

It was 5:50 in the morning. Give us both a break.

We knew that everyone was thinking about us, for which we are so grateful; all of those positive vibes radiated around the entire experience. Especially for this former morning person—the waiting room has a wall full of windows, and I was able to watch the sun rise. That's not something I usually elect to do, given that my nights still contain slight wake-up hiccups for the kids. Lucy's recovery has been nothing short of miraculous. The nurses warned me that she probably wouldn't eat and that she would be cranky; she ate two hot dogs for lunch that day, and other than a few Hulk-like grunts, she was the happiest girl alive.

Lucy no longer has a dermoid cyst on the back of her head. I am ecstatic, and she will be too, once she realizes that those are the kinds of cysts that sometimes house teeth or hair follicles. Yuuuuuuuck.