Yesterday Rob got his wisdom teeth pulled. I, being the faith-filled wife that I am, geared myself up for the worst possible results (a coma, spontaneous projectile blood fountains spurting from his mouth, etc.) because well, things usually get somewhat adventurous when Rob meets illness....and in this case, minor surgery. Fortunately things turned out almost A-okay. The surgery went peachy and Rob came home swollen and bloody and tired, but pretty much normal-seeming. I had to go to work in the evening so I dropped off Ellie(who, at the same time as this just happened to come down with a cold. That's generally how these things work) at a friend's house and went on my way. Later on Rob called me at Hallmark and in that half-frozen sounding, non-consonant-pronouncing way asked if I could bring some gauze home from work, and sorry about the rug. :) hehe. Apparently (like other members of his family) Tylenol 3 and Rob are NOT friends...and Rob ended up having a big throw-up shortly after taking one. This opened up everything that was trying to clot in his mouth, producing mass quantities of blood. This is a bit of a problem in itself (blood isn't fun). Another problem was that Rob puked into a bag provided by the doctors which he assumed was water proof. And it wasn't. Poor guy, dizzy and faint, did his best to clean up our cream-colored carpet before collapsing in a heap on the part that wasn't stained. I left work early and got my dear shnot-nosed girl, put her to bed, and then got to work on the blood trail left across the living room floor. :) My results were so-so (anyone got any ideas? I tried table salt...apparently that was supposed to do the job. There are still faint stains.) Anyhow, the good news is that even without the Tylenol Rob is actually doing just fine. The bleeding has finally stopped and he doesn't seem to be minding a day spent reading his books and eating Jello. And Ellie's in pretty good spirits despite the fact that she's so congested that she calls me "Bummy" instead of "Mommy" and her eyes are constantly tearing. And I'm just really thankful. Thankful that I don't have say, 6 kids with the flu barfing all over the place, thankful that I can't get my wisdom teeth removed until after this baby comes, and thankful that God's grace is always sufficient. Cleaning up bloody puke really isn't all that bad when you were preparing for a coma.
Here's some photos of Rob and Ellie playing in their first fort together (just for the sake of throwing in some photos):
What's a campout without a little KFC?
1 comment:
Poor guy! Good perspectives!
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