Not everything is about me

That's a line from some sitcom that I think is no longer even on the air. Two women are chatting on the stoop of a brownstone in NY or Boston and the husband leans out the window, asking what's going on. The wife yells back, "Not everything is about you!" I think you had to be there but it was very funny.

Anyway, just realized I never blogged about G's surgery. He has had a birthmark in the middle of his forehead since, well, birth. It started out as a brown hyphen and gradually, the hyphen part lightened till it was nearly invisible, just as two dots in it grew darker and darker.

Our previous Kaiser pediatrician never mentioned anything about it. She left Kaiser perhaps a year ago and we switched to another pediatrician with whom I don't work as well, but she is in Alameda, so that's a real plus. This pediatrician, at his 6 yr checkup, asked about the birthmark, and whether it has changed. Upon hearing that it has, she sent us off to the pediatric dermatologist. (I never knew there was such a title.) The dermo looked at it and asked about how it had changed and said she'd recommend removing it. We have a family history of malignant melanoma (uncle died of it and Dad has had 2 removed).

Well, after 6 years of telling him it makes him unique, now I had to tell him it had to go. Ugh. I agonized and we talked about only removing the two dark spots and I went home to decide. Asked my beloved 'moms' list and the answer was overwhelming: don't chance it. Called up the dermo and left a blustery message, demanding that the work be done by a plastic surgeon.

Not a problem. Referred to the plastic surgeon, set up a flurry of appointments (another physical, blood draw and the avalanche of info, and finally the surgery). Had to call the day before to find out the time of surgery and when we had to be there--or whether it was cancelled in favor of a more urgent surgery. Instead of having to arrive at 6AM, we were told 6:45 (phew), and instead of 8:30, we were given 8:00AM as the surgery time.

Everything went great and I was able to hold it together while he was wheeled away, blissfully silly. Got a call maybe 45 mins later saying it went great and I could meet him up in Recovery. He was still asleep. He woke up and was very uncomfortable because of the intubation--crying and making it worse. At the nurse's urging, I soothed him back to sleep. He slept for another hour and woke up with a sore throat but much more rational. We got him to accept a popsicle, then another, then he was free to go! The wound was covered with a stretchy superglue substance, then gauze, then a sticky saran-wr@p substance. Once he was ready to go, he was hungry (no food after midnight) and really just fine, except for the raspy, 2-pack-a-day voice.

Took him to the promised McD's and then home to "take it easy" for the afternoon. I swear, the day this boy is lethargic, I'm calling an ambulance. He never really settles down.

But he was thrilled to have permission to watch movies all afternoon, and then to come with me to work the next day to watch more movies on the work TV. And then on Friday, he decided not to go to Y-Kids as we had planned, and came to work again (sometimes yelling for me down the halls, ugh).

You honestly would never know he'd had surgery except for the strip of bandaid-like stuff on his forehead.

Which, really, is the best outcome possible. I'm grateful.