Going to the "Theater"

Anabella and I went to the theater, but not the kind of theater most people think about.  After a nasty fall on the playground and a long 24 hours, we found ourselves in the operating "theater".  Anabella, while playing on the swings, fell on her elbow and fractured the radial head (at the elbow).  At first, I'll admit, my hubby and I didn't think it was that serious.  She had been "acting out" at the playground (it may have had something to do with the cute blonde boy around) and we thought this drama was just another one of these shows.  She was complaining about pain in her wrist and as there was no swelling or bruising we felt justified in just having her lay low.  However, several hours later (I'm too embarrassed to admit just how long) while helping her get changed for bed I noticed that she could not straighten her arm so off we went to the emergency room.  After confirming the fracture, they sent us home in a soft cast for the night with instructions to report back in the morning for the inevitable surgery.

It's here that I first heard the reference to the operating room as the theater.  The doctor informed me that the surgery needed to take place that day and they were just waiting for a theater to open up.  It actually sounds pleasant, doesn't it? Well, it did to this guilt-ridden, stressed-out, and exhausted mother!

Seven hours later we were brought to the theater.  This was my second experience of watching my child drift off to la-la land.  As I stared into her eyes and whispered softly to her I could see her drifting farther and farther away until the shine left her eyes and all I could see was solid black.  It was heart-wrenching.  The doctors and nurses were so kind and understanding.  Then, off to the halls I was sent to wait.  As I waited, I had another cuppa (at this point, I'd lost count of just how many cuppas I'd had at that point) and amused myself on Facebook.  Unfortunately, most of my friends are in the states and as it was 1:30 in the morning back home there wasn't much to read about. 

About 45 minutes later, I was brought into recovery to see Anabella.  I expected her to be groggy and out of sorts, but what I saw made me laugh.  There she was already propped up on her pillow taking a huge lick of the icy pole popsicle the nurse promised her in recovery.  When she saw me she said, "Oh, Hi Mom".  She cracked me up.  Then she pronounced that this hospital was the "best hospital in the world", which stopped the nurses in their tracks.  They just stared and then sarcastically laughed.

Another 3 hours later, we were finally discharged.