Kintropy In Action

 We've met the surgeon post-op, he surrended pictures of the inside of Hannah's throat to Janette (a routine we've encouraged), and Janette has headed in to comfort Hannah in the recovery room.

So far, so good.

The photos show a very clean & clear throat.  Even the vocal chords, an earlier concern, seem to be in pretty good shape.  Now we're in let's-wait-and-see-if-her-body-can-handle-it mode.

So far, so good.

The day started well, maybe a good omen, if you believe in such things.  With Hannah's nurse's help, Hannah was up and ready to go to the hospital on time.  Missed my Insomnia Coffee, but everything else went as planned.

Actually, better than planned.  No sooner had we taken Hannah to a pre-room waiting area, someone showed up with a guitar to sing to the kids.  She knew Hannah from a previous visit, and Hannah quickly gave her her undivided attention.  We sang Twinkle, Twinkle, Bah Bah Black Sheep, and the ABC song (actually, all pretty much the same song).  Soon we arrived at Old McDonald.

Hannah has a complicated relationship with this song.  Cows moo mooing and horses neigh neighing are fine by her.  But pigs oink oinking?  Ducks quack quacking?  She shut her eyes tight and dove for cover in my lap.  Same reaction at school.

The pig I rationalize as some genetic memory from my grandfather, Pappy:  an Orthodox Jew.  The duck?  Not sure what happened there.  She's never been a quack-quack fan.

Soon afterward, we were in her room.  She cuddled with Mom.  Mom and I took turns singing.  And then the nurse showed up with the special pre-surgery medication:  the one that a NICU nurse introduced to us as "baby bliss."

See Hannah sitting up.  See Hannah lying down.  See Hannah babble and cradle Dad's arm, perfectly happy and content.

Like I said, Mom's in recovery post-baby bliss:  what we might call anti-baby-bliss on Hannah's behalf.  No particular drug needed for that one.  Mom:  thanks again for taking one for the team.

 -- Dad