It's set

The surgery is set.

It has been a very long day.

I slept later than I had intended and when I called in to check on Robbie, the nurse who answered the phone is not one I'm overfond of. I really should have asked her not to be assigned to us long ago.

She's one of those that when I call in, she'll say "hi." in a short way that conveys "Why are you bothering me?"

When I ask how she is, she replies "he's fine."

Um. Details. Thanks.

I decided not to even get into it then, I'd just hurry and get out of the house and up to the hospital right away because I had questions for the doctor anyway.

Less than an hour later, as I was gathering my things up to take to the hospital, the phone rang and it was her.

Of course, my first instinct is to panic because the hospital was on the Caller ID.

She was calling to tell me that she was placing his IV for a blood transfusion for the surgery.

I informed her that I hadn't actually consented to the surgery yet and I had some questions that needed answered first.

She got snippy about how she needed to place it before his next feeding. (Still 90 minutes away.) I told her I was on my way then. Again with the pissy. Again, I reiterated that I had questions for the doctor. AGAIN with the pissy.

That's when I snapped. Yep. It took 11 weeks and 5 days for me to officially lose my temper. I started yelling.

I told her that I understood we were on HER schedule, we're always on THEIR schedule, but right now I couldn't tell her that Robbie was having surgery tomorrow, so there may be no need for an IV in the first place.

She was clearly taken aback. She sputtered about it not being her schedule, it was Robbie's schedule. She said the doctor was nearby and could speak to me now.

I told her I wasn't prepared just then as I didn't have my list handy and I'd like to speak to him in person. Again with the pressure. Havetomakeadecisionrighthissecond. I refused to be pressured.

After we had a little more back and forth, I finally told her to put the doctor on the phone. She offered to hold while I got my list. I told her again I wasn't prepared to discuss it right then, but to put the doctor on the phone. RIGHT. NOW.

I was on hold several minutes. I'm sure she was telling him that I was a huge crazy bitch. Too bad he already knows that, huh?

In any case, I ended up talking to the doctor at length. I got my questions answered. I'm quite certain that I irked the piss out of him, but frankly, I don't give a shit.

That's the freedom of crossing the line into bitch territory. Up until today, even when I was cranky, I tried to remain civil because I really didn't want to be thought of as unpleasant. Since we're past that point now, I may as well just go balls out and go for it.

I've joked several times today that they're going to transfer me to the Children's hospital across the city because they can't take me any more.

So, it's set. Tomorrow morning, they'll wheel him down around 10am. He's going to have a fundoplication (where they wrap his stomach around his esophagus), the hiatal hernia repair (stuffing his stomach back down where it belongs), a G Tube placement (a hole near his belly button through which he may be fed), and apparently there is some debate that he may actually have an inguinal hernia (in his groin) so they're going to check that and maybe fix it, too. And I asked about circumcision as well. I have to speak to the surgeon about that tomorrow morning, though.

Feel sorry for Robbie yet?

They tell me it's actually quick. Probably less than an hour. He'll be intubated (effing vent!) and we'll recover down at the old NICU. I have not missed it.

We hope to only be there overnight, then back to our usual spot in the new NICU. Our roommates are offering to cover our spot with their bodies to hold it for us.

I will say that Dr. Director did make a note that we'd like our same place back if possible. Probably did that just to shut me the hell up.

Pissy Nurse was quite nice to me throughout the day. Frankly, she should know better. She had a preemie herself.

I did NOT apologize for yelling. I wasn't sorry.

Robbie took one bottle this morning before I got to the hospital, and I tried to bottle feed him once during the day as well, but he was SOUND asleep and wanted no part of it.

But after his fantastic night nurse came in, we bathed him and he was WIDE awake and trying to eat his clothes. They usually tell me he's too tired after a bath to eat, but I asked if we could just try. She was all for it.

He nursed at the breast for 20 solid minutes. He did so well that she didn't gavage feed him AT ALL. He looked drunk when he was done. Breast milk coma. He slept in my arms for several hours afterward.

It was a better end to the day than it had started.

I hope tomorrow is the same.

Our pediatrician called me at the hospital tonight. She's on board with everything. When I told her that I was uneasy about the G-Tube, she gave me a thought that no one else had. He's having his esophagus worked on. If he doesn't have a G Tube, he'll need an NG tube (from nose to stomach) and that would be irritating to his esophagus and stomach.. plus can be a source of bacteria. That solidified my decision on the G tube. I feel okay about it now.

The surgery itself makes me nervous. I hate anesthesia. HATE IT. And with Robbie's breathing history, I'm nervous. And the fact that everyone keeps talking about how unusual it is for a preemie to have a hiatal hernia.. well.. Sometimes being unique is overrated.

All the nurses have assured me that our surgeon is the best. A nurse I don't even know said that if it were her child and he didn't work for this hospital, she'd follow him.

Nurses that have been very honest about not liking people in the past have also said he is great.

I feel like we're in the best hands (literally) we can be in, so we move forward.

I'll update ASAP tomorrow.

--Trish