They Call It A Procedure

Its more common now a days for babies and toddlers to get the tubes “procedure.” 

You know, in their ear. 

Of course, growing up poor in Akron, Ohio, the only tubes I ever got were decade-old tire tubes used to sled down the water tower hill and the only time I got one in the ear was standing in the batter’s box down mound from John Francis who was a little upset about a mom joke I may or may not have told.

I digress.

Our last two tots had to get the tubes procedure.

And I noticed some things in the hospital.

They ask you a lot of questions and they have multiple people ask these questions multiple times.

Check-in Nurse 1
“When was the last time she ate solids?”

“When was the last time she nursed?”

Check-in Nurse 2
“When was the last time she ate solids?”

“When was the last time she nursed?”

Anesthesiologist
“When was the last time she ate solids?”

“When was the last time she nursed?”

EN&T Doc
“When was the last time she ate solids?”

“When was the last time she nursed?”

I get it, redundancy is a safety measure but it just seems like the first nurse could text the others the same way we get umpteen million family texts about whats his face remodeling the kitchen and whats their faces new kid, Molasses or Moses or what is his name again? Just run an electronic billboard in the hospital like the one running the national debt already.

Here is the other thing: they say that your child “did great.”

Well, my child was under anesthesia, so how is being asleep seen as doing great during a “procedure”?

Of course they tell you this to put you at ease because you aren’t there and you can’t see what is going on. I get it. For all we know they could be listening to metallica back there and scrolling through their twitter feed with their free hand.

But I’m honest to a fault and part of my problem is expecting other people to be honest.

I want the doctor to come out afterward and tell me:

“That was a little rough. I’m hung over as shit from a gallon of gin and the dozen Sriracha spicy wings aren’t helping with the bathroom breaks if you catch my drift. Thankfully, your daughter was completely out of it so she had no idea I was sweating like a whore in church and at one point my hands were shaking a 3.2 on the Richter scale. Don’t worry though, any mammal with opposable thumbs could do this; they just aren’t sharp enough to charge 3K a half-hour. Am I right? She’ll be turning hand springs in no time and her hearing should be a lot better so you two love birds will have to tone down the volume on those arguments about just how you are going to pay for this “procedure.”