Second Verse

The scenery is familiar. Many faces we recognize. Many people recognize us.

We showed up in our coordinated "Hope For Harper" t-shirts, and sat relatively calmly in the surgical family waiting room full of "first timers". We've been here before. Not our first rodeo.

The surgery took the hour predicted, and the surgeon called us in to tell us everything went well. As Harper was in recovery, we visited our "favorite" (only) restaurant in Kosair - McDonalds - for some breakfast.

We knew she'd be delivered to 7 West, so we went to meet her. The floor is only a little more than half full, so it's quiet as we arrive. They recognize us (sad), and show us to Harper's room. It's one we haven't been in before (there aren't that many left that we haven't yet frequented). We sit, and wait.

We wait for The Hulk. See, Harper doesn't wake well from anesthesia. She transforms from sweet adorable Harper to angry scary Harper, and she'll stay that way for a few hours, before an internal switch flips, and the Harper we love re-appears.

The Hulk did not disappoint. Once she arrived and awoke, it was on. The nurse needed to hook fluids to her Broviak. She said no. She smacked at the nurses hand. She screamed blood-curdling screams that I'm confident we're heard by the entire floor. She grabbed, she cried, she wriggled and writhed. Melissa and I plus 2 nurses held her down to get the lines hooked up.

She accused the nurse, the doctors and the hospital of trying to kill her. She wanted the line out. She wanted the IV pump off. She begged me to lock the door. When I explained there are no locks, she demanded I bar it to keep them out. When all that failed, she asserted we were trying to kill her too, and that the medicine/fluids were poison.

This is all a perverse reverse of what happened when her line came out last time. Then she begged for it to be put back in, and even offered up her arm for a peripheral IV.

After a dose of fentanyl and lorazepam, she's back asleep - hopefully allowing the hulk-ifying anesthesia to wear off so she can be a little bit more her normal crazy self and not the demon-possessed child she just demonstrated.

But, we've been down this road, so we know a little of what to expect. Despite despising that we are here, it is oddly slightly reassuring to be in familiar surroundings.

Much of what we expect should be very similar to our experience before. More of the same, just stronger.

Second verse, just like the first. A little bit louder, and a little bit worse.