Care and Feeding of a Kid having his Wisdom Teeth Out

Evening before:

Tell kid not to sleep over at a friend’s because he’ll be getting up so early. 

Don’t wait up for him as he arrives after 2am “to get a good night’s sleep.”

Tell him not to eat after midnight and believe him if he tells you he didn’t, otherwise you’ll have to make time to worry about him vomiting during the procedure.

Accept suggestions from the blog that your Becky-friend sent on making ice packs.  http://www.notmartha.org/archives/2012/05/09/how-that-whole-wisdom-teeth-thing-went/

Night before:

While making Jello, pudding and mashed potatoes, find a pair of new tube socks. At my house that means find the cleanest pair of long ski socks not presently in use. I found a pair in the bin of “things we haven’t used in 3 years/things we don’t want any more.”  How odd that when Kelcy saw them, he claimed they were his favorite ski socks.

  

Sew the socks together at the toes with a little overlap while you freeze Dawn dish-washing liquid in a couple baggies (it really does stay cold longer and doesn't get wet)…… 


Admire your handiwork:  rather  than rice socks, you've got Ice Socks!  These cleverly cushion your chin and tie on top of your head icing both cheeks/jaws. The notmartha blog makes it look like an Audrey Hepburn style but Kelcy, actually wearing it right now as he can be hands’ free and play his computer game, looks like a big puppy dog. (But no photos allowed.)

Morning of:

Don’t get kid up too early since he’ll remember to be grumpy that he can’t eat breakfast.

Do allow toothbrushing, personal grooming and chapstick (in case the dental assistants are young and cute.)

At the office:

Don't embarrass the kid by knowing too many people. Kelcy looked disconcerted but was super polite that so many people knew me. The receptionist remembered Kelcy as a 4year old in Daddy and Me swim lessons. The joke was, when Judd ran into Gretchen, the instructor, in a grocery store, he would say, “I’ve never seen you with clothes on.” I also knew one of the health techs (with whom I used to work at Workplace Health in my occupational medicine days) AND, one of the other assistants knew me because she recalled that Judd and I went to her 6^th grade class in China Middle School to show and tell about Kenya –about 8 years ago.

Don't plan to get a lot done, leisurely drinking coffee and watching the pre-Olympics on TV in the waiting room. I was barely able to play 4 moves of Zynga in the waiting room, when the assistant came out and said, “Kelcy’s all done. “ It literally could not have been 15 minutes……the PAPERWORK took longer than that! My 19 year old kid is now old enough to sign his own informed consent but I still got to be his responsible adult designated driver (and his check-writer.)

Post-procedure:

Don't take a picture of anyone, even your own kid, the recovery area. Kelcy was reclining in a big easy chair, mouth stuffed with gauze, bleary eyed, startled.  He kept touching my chin then his chin and said they felt the same.  He said it was as if he had someone else’s face on. He was stunned that it was over already. He was surprised “how easy it was” (the miracle of a  IV Versed/Fentanyl and Brevital cocktail.) He said he got some gas on his nose and offered to count to 10 but says he didn’t even get to 1. The surgeon said it was really only oxygen-- all the magic was in the IV meds. Kelcy opened his eyes and the first thing he saw were 4 teeth on the tray.

Sit with your child for about 20 minutes while he recovers from anesthesia.


When kid is deemed stable, escort kid as he staggers to the car, perhaps holding his hand if he lets you. 


Once home, feed him  half a smoothie so he can take his pain meds without a tummy ache.  Kelcy was feeling pretty chipper and thought he might study, but when he sat in the recliner for about 5 min, he fell into a long tranquil nap.

Day after:
He'll feel worse.

Be ready with the ibuprofen, ice socks, Magic Mouthwash, Vicodin and pudding. 


And remember Ganesha, the remover of obstacles.

you actually like that?

“So,” I was asked by a friend of a friend at a recent barbeque, “ do you actually LIKE administrating?”  It sounded to me like ‘ do you actually like to clean toilets?’ or worse.  It is not an uncommon response. People find out I’m a doctor and then ask what kind of doctor or where I practice and I say, “oh, I hardly see patients anymore, I’m an administrator.”  Then,  the look—the slight social distancing.  In my head, I hear them label me “not – a – real – doctor.”  When I speak with patients these days, it’s mostly because they are complaining about a doctor or spewing forth their vitriol about a process  that doesn't work for them in the hospital.  Does being on the receiving end of that sound fun to you?

What do I do all day? Even into the night? Why is it okay with me?

I like to think I make it easier for other doctors to get their work done.

I help them get through the very wide red tape of the government system.

I help keep them out of jail by helping them abide by the endless list of regulatory matters it takes to run a hospital.

I advocate that they get resources they need to take care of patients.

I referee personnel issues that get in the way of taking care of patients.

I create rewards/incentives/context for doing the best job possible.

I read articles on why physicians make bad leaders.

I investigate.

I coach.

I teach.

I learn.

I share.

I care.

I communicate.

I collaborate.

It’s a public health kind of mission. If I can put a process in place where many

patients access excellent, safe, respectful, quality care, I don’t help just one patient. I help lots of patients. And yes, I enjoy that.

http://www.thehappymd.com/physician-leadership-doctors-poor-leaders-what-you-can-do-about-it/

My story made Judd remember a story he appreciates as a middle school teacher :

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life. One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education.

He argued: "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"

He reminded the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about teachers: "Those who can...do. Those who can't...teach."

To corroborate, he said to another guest: "You're a teacher, Susan," he said. "Be honest. What do you make?"

Susan, who had a reputation of honesty and frankness, replied, "You want to know what I make?"

 

"I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could."

“I make kids believe in themselves when no one else will.”

"I make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honor and an A- feel like a slap in the face if the student did not do his or her very best."

"I make parents tremble in fear when I call home"

"You want to know what I make?

"I make kids wonder."

"I make them question."

"I make them criticize."

"I make them apologize and mean it."

"I make them write."

"I make them read, read, read."

"I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, and definitely beautiful over and over and over again, until they will never misspell either one of those words again."

"I make them show all their work in math and hide it all on their final drafts in English."

"I make them understand that if you have a dream, then follow it...and if someone ever tries to judge you by what you make or what you do, you pay them no attention."

"You want to know what I make?!"

"I make a difference."

"What about you?"

My piano

This week I found my 36th decorated piano (http://www.youtube.com/watch? v=87ZA3GHcD9Y ) at the White River Junction VA canteen—July 1—played a little ditty for a few Veterans having their coffee. It made me think of my own piano and my own Veteran Dad.

My piano came from my grandmother when I was in the 8^th grade. My grandmother was the conservator of an old lady’s estate (and I thought my grandmother was an old lady!) When the older woman passed away, my grandmother received the piano. She sold it to me for $150 dollars. I paid her over many months with my babysitting money. The piano was part of my bedroom furniture like a desk would be in another kid’s room.  I would spend hours of my free time picking out tunes and trying to sight read sheet music from whichever musical score of the day was popular. I had had lessons for a year when I was five years old and I could read music a little but I learned more by copying others, mostly my mother. Without sheet music, my mother  taught me Stardust and Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C sharp minor.  Unfortunately, I can only recall the first few bars of most songs. My dad (with high tone deafness and tinnitus from his exposures to blasts in the Korean War) preferred what he called “rinky dink” music like The Entertainer.  (As explanation, I refer you to another blog of a much better piano player:  http://spitzfire.com/ragtime-wtf/ )

My piano is a Wurlitzer spinet and it has made it from San Diego, CA to So China, ME intact (although needing more frequent tunings due to the humid New England summers.)

Seeing all the pretty pianos re-used for the good of the many (and having total strangers approve of my blathering on the ivories) makes me want to practice again and get good enough to go out at a Veteran’s canteen or Community Center and regale the older crowd.  Most of my repertoire is older than my age mates (under the tutelage of my mother and grandmother….) and we could all use a little more magic of music .

http://www.npr.org/2012/04/18/150891711/for-elders-with-dementia-music-sparks-great-awakenings