But it's not me really, it's Pete, who is enjoying another night on the wards to have an inguinal hernia fixed. I'm not a medical man, but it seems that his guts are poking out where they shouldn't be ("have we been feeding him too much?" the guilty parents ask). Luckily the medicine men and women fixed him up yesterday, and now we're just waiting for the word that their spells are strong enough to let us go.
It all went pretty smoothly. "He's too young to suffer from separation anxiety, so you can say goodbye here and we'll just carry him to theatre," the anaesthesiologist told me. "I'm not too young to suffer from separation anxiety!" I pointed out. "I'm not allowed to give you any drugs", she replied. She was joking, I wasn't.
They saved the good stuff for Pete - morphine with a tylenol chaser - so he spent the post-op day being tired and grumpy; his mother's son. At 10pm he decided it was time to wake up, eat, and play, and he's been back to his old self since.
All this took place in Oakland, Kaiser's first ever hospital, and it's certainly not as shiny as the Creek's. We're triple-bunking in our room and out of our window, constantly mocking us, is the brand new hospital that's half-completed. I'm looking forward to trying that one out with all our future children (i.e. never).
Looking good, pre-surgery.
And post, like a bear with a sore head. (Do bears take morphine in the woods?)
The view is more impressive than Kaiser Walnut Creek, I'll give them that.
On the ward, on the mend.
Breakfast of champions.
"Morning daddy, where's my food?" Yep, definitely getting better.
