Two weeks post surgery, we went back to Children’s Hospital for our follow-up appointment. They cut through all the layers of cotton that had been holding him together, which looked an awful lot like shearing a sheep. (Or what I’ve seen of sheep shearing, which was probably on Sesame Street.)
I thought I was prepared for the sight of those incisions and rods sticking out of his foot. I wasn’t.
I think I was picturing some sewing pins tucked neatly into his skin with a little round plastic ball on the end of each one. Good grief… these are not they. These rods sticking out the top of his foot are like coat hangers, and they are even bent with little handles for taking them out later. It’s so Frankensteinian.
I took pictures at Tucker’s request. I will not post them here because it’s one of those images you can’t un-see. The whole thing makes me nauseous. Tuck took a picture of me in the process, and in the retellings, he says, “And there’s my mom. That’s her nervous face.”
I’m pretty sure I must have turned several shades of white, and I must have looked pretty woozy because in addition to monitoring Tucker’s own response to his very own foot, they kept saying, “You okay, Mom? You okay?” Not especially, no. But I stayed seated and I didn’t faint, which is a sizable victory because I’m prone to such weaknesses when my kid is on the table.
They gave him ‘the next cast’ in this process. Most kids get two colors at most, but leave it to my son to charm them into giving him three. He has Broncos colors with a nice white stripe that glows in the dark.
Because a mom should get to sign however she wants.