Beyond exhausted

Son had all four wisdom teeth out Wednesday morning. And what's called a "crown lengthening." for that, they remove some of the bone around a tooth in order to get enough room to put on a crown, like after a root canal. The trouble with Son's teeth is that his wisdom tooth was in the way, and "deep bone impacted." They all face the wrong way. So, they took out all four and removed that bit of bone.

To say he was in pain is a gross understatement.

The anesthesia pissed him off. It does that to me, too. I do NOT like the feeling of not having full command of my body. He didn't like it, either. "We're a little angry," the nurse said, as she helped him from the wheelchair and into the car. He was pissed and mumbling to himself, drooling blood. Later, he would tell me that as he woke and found himself hooked to equipment, he got angry and started cursing people. "I don't think they understood me," he said. His mouth had been full of gauze, thankfully.

We got him a shake (no straws!) and he ate some, so he could take his pain medication. We're alternating two Big Gun Pain Pills every three hours. But the anesthesia wore off quicker than the pills acted, so we chased his pain most of the day. I felt completely helpless, as I watched my big tough-guy sink to his knees in the kitchen, weeping with pain and frustration.

And he apparently learned something about himself today. I think it's important for both of us to know, too.

He still needs his Mommy.

You know what else? Drama Queen learned this, too. She insisted on coming over after school. I dreaded it. If she tried to assume the caretaker role with him, after what he and I had been through together today, I was going to lose it.

She made one attempt. "Aren't you supposed to call the doctor if he still has bleeding?" she asked. I looked at her for a moment, like do you think I need you to tell me how to handle this? Then I calmly answered with all the information I had, from talking to the nurse already, and what I knew to do. I saw the test-pattern look come over her. Too much info for her to handle.

After that, she backed off. She tried to cover him with a blanket once, but got it sideways and his feet stuck out. I carefully fixed it, so as not to wake him.

She seemed to have a problem with letting him sleep, though. She kept touching him. He'd doze off and she'd do something to touch him and wake him. I finally told her to cut it out and let him fall asleep. She did.

The idiot tried to kiss him when she left. He waved her off, annoyed. It was a stupid thing to want to do, with his mouth swollen and sore. She kissed the top of his head and went home.

As I'm typing this, he's asleep in the recliner next to me. The doctor told him to sleep sitting up tonight, so it's the best place for him. And you know what? He asked me to sleep on the couch beside him.

"Are you going upstairs?" he asked, as I tucked him into the recliner, with a soft blanket. He was mumbly and dopey. He looked up at me, and for a moment he was my little boy again. He looked a lot like he did at age 6, when he had his tonsils out.

"I don't have to," I said. "I can sleep right here on the couch, if that would help."

"I'd like that," he said. "I'd feel better if you were here."

He didn't want to be alone, and if he needed help, he wanted me there.

There's a peace between Son and I. He is trusting me to help him. He wants my help, my presence nearby, as though he's comforted by this. So far, he's made it clear that he wants my help and only my help. Anyone else says, "Want some pudding?" and they get their heads bit off. I do, and he says, "That would be great. Thanks."

How long will it hold? I don't know. Will he remember it? I hope. For now, it feels good to get this last chance of taking care of him.