Surgical Embarrassment

Rea required a tiny bit of surgery this summer. She's had a halo mole on her temple for a while. And the dermatologist has been watching it closely for about a year. The Derm was hesitant to have it removed because, in her words, it's a much bigger deal than removing one from let's say her back. This removal required the help of a plastic surgeon. So we watched. And measured. And watched. And photographed the mole for a year. 

Then on our last visit, the doc noticed a darkening of the bottom half of it. She said, "It's time to have this taken off." We were given the name of a plastic's guy (turns out he's the Dad of one of Rea's friends). 

Our consultation with the surgeon went great. Rea was very comfortable with him, since she'd met him in social situations with her friend. But even if she had never seen him before, I think he would have been an excellent choice. He was amazing with Rea. He spoke directly to her. Asked her all the questions about why we were there. Explained to her what was going to happen. Asked if she had any questions. Then he spoke to me. I was so impressed. And relieved. 

Rea's incredible plastic surgeon

I decided to hold off for two weeks for the procedure. The monsters were in camp and Rea was not allowed to go after the procedure. So we waited. 

Rea was excited about the prospect of getting stitches. Not sure why. But that's what she thought was the coolest part. 

So, here we are. Surgery day. 

I take both monsters to the doc's office because the procedure is happening in the office and should take only 10 minutes. No big deal. 

We get into the exam room, and the nurse puts some numbing cream on Rea to help take the edge off the shot soon to come. Rea begins to get nervous. I start taking pictures and chatting to distract her. Doc comes in and says hello.

They take us to another room for the actual mole removal. It's like an OR in the doctor's office. Surgical tools are on the trays next to the chair Rea climbs into. She begins to get real nervous and a bit panicky. Buddy is in the chair next to me, without a clue as to what's going on around him. Thank you, iPad. 

I can see Rea. She can see me. And she's looking at me most of the time. She cries when Dr. Cooper administers the big shot. I am watching intently, trying to look upbeat and not worried. I mean, come on, my baby is laying there frightened and looking at me for assurance. I don't want to let her down. 

But... there's one thing she doesn't know about Mommy. Mommy has a super weak tummy for anything bloody. When Mommy was little, a finger prick would cause her to pass out. It's been a while since one of these episodes. Honestly, I thought since having children (giving birth is bloody disgusting) and watching my kids get IVs, various shots, and blood drawn several times that'd I would be over it. Apparently not. 

So there we are. I am trying to telepathically cheer her up. She's remaining calm and incredibly brave. Blood runs down her face from the incision. I have a clear view of all the doc is doing. 

My pulse races. I begin to sweat. At first, only a little. I think "if I can just get some fresh air, I will be fine." 

Then the room spins a little. I turn my attention to Buddy. If I don't look over there, and I breathe slowly, I will be fine. 

Doc says, "Mom, come over here and take a look." 

I think "How? How am I going to get up? Legs, don't fail me now!"

Somehow I make it over to the doctor. I have no idea what he said to me. I was concentrating on staying conscious. 

I make it back to my chair. Sweat is not pouring down. The room is really bright. I can actually feel myself close to losing it... Doc asks if I am ok. I say, "Nope. Not at all. I think I am going to pass out. Or throw up."

I am so embarrassed to tell you that the doctor and nurse had to leave Rea's side to come take care of me. They put icepacks on my neck and chest. Then they moved Rea from the table and had me lay down and elevate my legs. The doctor finished up with Rea while I lay there, feeling like a complete idiot. 

I am so grateful that I did not pass out. I was worried about freaking the kids out.