Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Mariana's Surgery, as told by Mariana

True story, I had a gut wrenching post filled with emotions and rants at God, but then I couldn't find a way to end it, so suddenly it's today and Mae had her surgery. In a nutshell: My thyroid had too many responsibilities and couldn't handle the work of keeping me sane, regulating metabolism and helping me think. It resigned much of its duties and now I probably need Real Medicine(TM).

Mariana however had Real Medicine(TM) surgery today and would like to tell her harrowing tale with pictures!

"Hi. My Dada woke me up this morning and changed my diaper, but not my PJ's. PJ's Uncle John sent for Christmas addressed to MariJohnna. This is because he forgot that he had sons he could have named after himself. Mama took me downstairs, but no one gave me my bottle. Instead I took a car ride to a weird place with toys. And then they took me to the back.
Y'all don't even know.
At this point I was weighed, poked and squeezed like a common farm animal up for auction. People were all up in my face saying, "HI!" and then not even giving me the time to say "Hello." back to them. Instead they got busy asking mom personal questions about my medical history and my heart and suddenly it felt like this was some serious business.

I recommend the hospital gown.
After that I was asked to undress and put a robe on backwards. Just kidding! No one asks me to do anything, they just treat me like a dolly. Of course I had to sample my new duds, and they were really quite good.

Seriously the arm is fantastic on this robe. Very soothing on the gums.

All sorts of people came in to talk to my mom and opine about my good looks. If I were any less a person I would have a huge ego. But I have siblings and I know that I come from a long line of beautiful people. I'm just one of many.

While we are on the subject of pretty people, wanna hear a funny story?

All my sisters and my brother got in my parents' bed last night! Mom and Dad had to get up at 4:45, and then climb out of bed without waking all the sleeping masses, and then get dressed super quiet-like. I can only imagine the hilarity that ensued.

The hospital is cold, but it just revs my engine and I felt very confident that whatever was going to happen would be fun. "Stents" sounds like a cool trick and "Naso-lacrimal ducts" sound like we were going to feed the ducks. I'm in!

Whoa, what? Yeah, they started talking breathing tubes and going to sleep and needles, which, nope that's not really my thing. Imma just step out for the bathroom real quick, mkay?

Mmmm. Apple juicy.
Next thing I know I'm sippin on juice, laid back. No screaming like the kids in the other recovery rooms. They must have not had any juice, the poor dears.

After my first bottle of juice was gone, I had to drink another bottle. I didn't have to, like, you know, requirements or anything. I just cried and coughed and they brought me some. It's like magic, only more pathetic.

And then Dada and Mama brought me to a diner where I ate eggs and yelled at them for being too slow at feeding me. I was stahvin!

Fun fact: My eyes tear more than ever thanks to the stents, and so everyone feels pity at the site of my beautiful face as tears stream down my cheeks quietly.

The remainder of the day was spent asleep and then Mrs. J had the nerve to show up for therapy. Then there was eating and yelling at the people who do not feed me any longer because of reasons like, I can do it myself, and, I need to learn independence.  The only time I'm willing to feed myself is when a lollypop is clutched squarely in my fist, something that used to be considered therapy and now is considered taboo. I've about had it with people changing the rules up in this joint.

In conclusion: I had surgery. I woke up. I ate. I slept. I pretended to work out. I slept. I ate. I took a bath. Tomorrow I will pitch a gigantic fit when Mama puts food on my tray and walks away.


  1. She is adorable!!! I think we have Daniel eating independently so early because my least favorite part of parenting (so far, my oldest isn't 4 yet) is spoon feeding a baby. I hate it more than potty training. So as soon as Daniel showed even the slightest inclination to feed himself (a lollipop definitely means she can do it!!) I stopped spoon feeding. I have no idea why I hate it so much. But I do.

  2. I didn't get a chance to read this whole post, I had to skim it, but I wanted to say that she is SO darling. My little guy had a very minor surgery at 6 months and I was a wreck, so hats off to you for staying strong mama. Looking forward to reading more of your blog!