Returning to the scene

We've made it to Cincinnati for Ike-a-saurus' annual follow-up with Doctor Fancypants. It was a heckuva drive to get here. A week and a half before we left, I re-injured my ankle resulting in a third degree sprain on the outside of it and a different sprain on the inner ankle. That means a boot and crutches for the next few weeks. Fun for a roadtrip. Then, the night before we left we discovered The Girlchild had lice (!). Once on the road we were accosted with bad traffic, a flipped over SUV, tornado sirens, and hunkering down for safety from the storm in the hotel lobby during our half-way stop in Tennessee. There were countless other weirdities, too. It was a long, strange trip.

But we're here now! And we're staying at the great old hotel we've stayed at during several of our other trips up here, including the month long stay for the reconstruction surgery. I was a little hesitant to stay here again just because I knew as soon as I walked in the suite (I say suite because it has a living room and two bedrooms, but lest you think we're living like kings, it is very cheap and decorated in Early Barton Fink) and tasted the chicken sandwich from room service I'd be immediately transported back to those terrifying and exciting and exhausting days.

I always feel a bit bad at how scary it all was when we were here then – I mean, we were here for a *good* reason; we were here to get the trach out and to have a new new normal. And, yet, it really was scary. Really scary. Super scary. And really, super, extra exhausting.

But I made the reservations anyway. We've been back since that month long stay and it was fine, and now we're back again. We're back to own this place. To own those scary memories. To say, "Here we are now – everything we could have ever wished for then is happening RIGHT FUCKING NOW." And that kind of empowerment is incredibly healing. It's Early Barton Fink Healing Empowerment Time, and that's just what I need.

Wednesday morning is Ike-a-saurus' procedure. We check into day surgery at 9:15. He's old enough now, and has been through enough, that he is not excited about it. He's worried and kind of freaked out, and I don't blame him one bit. So we're taking things easy, running through visualizations of the day, and talking about how much fun we're going to have on all the other days (and hopefully by Wednesday afternoon, too). We really want to turn this trip into a vacation – that's why we brought the whole family and drove up. It seems too clinical and scary to just fly up, go to the hospital, and fly home. I'm sure we'll have to do that sometimes (and have done it in the past), but for this trip, it just felt right to bring everyone and make something out of it.

For the first time, we're in an Early Barton Fink room with a lovely view of the public library. The library pipes out loud classical music to keep people from loitering, I guess, so right now, I'm sitting on the balcony, listening to Bach amongst the shouting and laughing and posturing at the bus stop, and amongst the beeping of the crosswalk, and amongst the church bells singing out the time, and amongst the rushing of the water through the fountain made of giant books. I am up here, in the middle of the city, but in a way where I can just watch and not be thrown straight into it. Sitting out here, with a soundtrack built in, I feel like I'm in a movie – or in some redemption scene from an HBO made-for-TV miniseries. I feel like I'm sitting in a huge metaphor. And it's only 78 degrees, so I'm sitting in a hugely, very comfortable metaphor.


Here we are.


In the back of my mind I'm terrified that Dr. Fancypants might find new narrowing in Ike's airway, or evidence of some other malicious thing sneaking up on us, but in the front of my mind I'm enjoying the breeze and the music and the balcony and the kids running around, so happy to be out of the car.

Cincinnati, we are in you. 

2 thoughts on “Returning to the scene

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s