The Mind of Olivia Drab

Holiday Pissitude

In our social circle, we have friends and coworkers who celebrate different aspects of the holiday season. Whichever you celebrate, I hope you are having/have had a nice one.

That being said, some days I wonder if I just get off on being angry. I read articles about people who are intolerant of another faith (involving such gemstones as "Let's get over this PC crap!") and immediately seek out the comments section. Not so that I can post a comment, but so that I can read the ensuing thread of hatred and obnoxiousness that follow. It simply astounds me how one-sided (and frequently ignorant) some people can be.

In one article, someone went so far as to accuse Jews of making up "Honika" to compete with Christmas. Brainiac.

I am truly astounded by people who simply refuse to have respect for others. I find it an interesting social study. From what I recall, the various winter holidays preach about love, respect and brotherhood of mankind. It's a common denominator. Why can't we practice what we preach? What is it about saying "Happy Holidays" to a mixed group of people, in effort to limit exclusion, evokes a snarl through gritted teeth? I simply don't get it.

It's the people with entitlement issues that really make me want to punch someone though. Those people who are more than happy to elbow you, shove you, trample you over the purchase of a freaking Elmo doll (at 25% off!) Or the person who gets pouty and throws a tantrum because they didn't get what they wanted in the office gift-exchange game. It's a gift. Some people are losing their jobs around the holidays, and they are angry because they got the candles instead of the pint glasses in the White Elephant exchange. It's ridiculous.

With Christmas over, Hanukkah nearing the eighth day, Solstice passed, Kwanzaa in midswing, and it being Saturday to atheists, I hope that we can all remember to play nice with each other. I hate being mad around the holidays.

Recovery

December 9, the rogue kidney was evicted from Lauren's body.

It was not an easy morning for us, as we entered the Children's Hospital lobby at way-too-early a.m. The night before had dumped almost half a foot of snow on Denver and the roads were very slick, making our decision to spend the night in a hotel near the hospital an easy one. In the morning, Lauren wasn't allowed food or beverage, and we felt it cruel to eat in front of her, so no one ate. We were all starving and the adults were nervous. That matter wasn't helped by the weather and a particularly long surgery before Lauren's that contributed to her surgery being delayed nearly two hours.

About the time Lauren's temperament changed from exceptionally adorable and sweet to tired, hungry and cranky, the anesthesiologist and urologist arrived to go over the procedure. Brad and I put on a "bunny suit"--the sterile overgarments that nervous parents put on to enter the operating room with the child--and we paraded into the OR.

We were warned of several things. One, that she would likely start to fight the gas mask once she began to feel woozy. Two, that she would experience a manic hysteria after coming out of the sedation. Neither happened, to the amazement of everyone. We sat her on the operating table, Brad on one side, I on the other, and Brad played "Meow Meow Kitty" with her, bouncing her purple kitty doll in front of her face. Her eyes never left the kitty as the anesthesiologist placed the mask over her face and the gas began. Quietly, she slipped off into a deep sleep. We left the OR, and I started to have a mini meltdown. Fortunately, the woman leading us away said, "she did REALLY well, we've never seen a child so calm." It snapped me back to Earth and I cracked the joke, "It was all the practice runs with the gas mask at home." She laughed, I laughed, I choked back the urge to bawl. Brad just kep walking, his own coping mechanism in motion.

An hour and a half later, the urologist emerged and said she was fine, the surgery was a success, and the kidney was (in my words) pretty freaking gross. I'm glad it is out of her body, because his description gave me the creeps. We were taken to her bedside while she came out of sedation.

A few minutes after we arrived, her eyes snapped open, she grabbed purple kitty and thrust it at us, declaring, "MEOW MEOW KITTY!" and then went back to sleep. She gradually woke all the way, happy as a clam.

That night, she was running the halls of Children's. It was wonderful. I woke the next morning at 4am in the hospital recliner. From her hospital window, I watched the sun rise over the snow. The bad kidney is gone, and we never have to think about it again. I'm more grateful than I can say.