This journey was about wisdom tooth extraction, 4 of them, that my University of Arizona son has been complaining about for weeks. To be perfectly honest, they've been giving him trouble since Thanksgiving, but he didn't force the issue of removal, so neither did I. He held it together for the last week with antibiotics, oxycodone, numerous phone calls home, little sleep, and almost no eating (hurt too much). When your college son voluntarily takes himself to the dentist, you know he's hurting. It became abundantly clear to me on Wednesday evening (courtesy of some guidance from his older brother and a few sleepless hours) that he was not going to make it through graduation day with his wisdom teeth. Thursday morning I kicked into warrior-mother mode and did what had to be done. Before noon I had booked a consult at a Tucson oral surgeon and a hotel room for me and the patient to recover (All accomplished while getting my hair colored - necessary multi-tasking). I had to hold off on the plane ticket until they confirmed a surgery date and time. That confirmation came at 3 pm with surgery scheduled for 8 am the next day (Friday). Good news, he would be feeling better soon, Bad news, there was one remaining flight from Hartford to Tucson at 4:55 pm (I wasn't risking Boston or New York for their 7pm options). I throw what is closest to me (top of the clean laundry basket) in a carry-on bag and go for it. I "OJ" it through the airport (referencing the old TV commercial, not the murder), booked a rental car en route and added Thursday night to my hotel reservation. I'm at the gate with 20 minutes to spare and manage to snag a bulk head seat on a very enjoyable southwest flight to chicago. I relish the extra hour I get back on central time and enjoy a burger and a beer (don't think I had a chance to eat all day) before boarding the last leg to Tucson. Another bulk head seat does not make-up for the freak electrical storm that lights the night sky and I am more than grateful for the wi-fi that allows me to text and Facebook with night owl friends who keep me calm and steady through the turbulence. The layover beer (or two) provide just enough relaxation to let me close my eyes for an hour or so. I land safely at 9:05 pm to a perfect 75 degree evening in Tucson (another 2 hours back in my day- time change is key to this whole equation).I Pick up my rental car, forgot the portable GPS, no worries, I have an app for that (WAZE, get it now if you can). 30 minutes later I am happily in my comfortable Marriott bed (note to self: time to buy a new bed at home) and set the iPhone alarm and a wake up call for 6 am. I am up and ready at 4:30 am anyway, my body had apparently not taken note of the 3-hour time change. I make coffee in the room, check-in at home, drink coffee in the lobby, read the paper, walk outside, and finally pick up David at 7:20. I haven't seen him since January. So happy to see his face, so sad that he looks nervous and thin. It's an easy 20 minute drive to the office and he declares he's ready to deal with whatever lies ahead just to stop the pain (mother guilt in full bloom, how did I let him suffer for so long?) .
We move quickly from reception to extraction; the heart monitor visibly displays his nerves as they prep him. My children are not a fan of anything involving a needle (a valuable fear preventing them from ever being IV drug users or getting tattoos), and their mother is no better. I can barely look when they touch his forearm, and focus instead on his face and keeping my tears to my self. Sense of humor intact, he interrogates the doctor to confirm that no one is immune to the sedative and that he will definitely be asleep. He is out before the answer and I am told it's time for mom to leave. I help myself to a single kiss on his forehead before I go. Whatever comfort it provided to him can't possibly compare to the instantaneous swelling of my heart. More than likely he doesn't remember, but it will forever remind me that children, no matter how old, sometimes still need some mothering. If there is such a thing in reverse, I need that too.
Brave mommy waited till she walked to a bench in the parking lot (why sit in a waiting room when turquoise skies and mountain views were available outside) to let the tears flow and make a silent wish to whoever is listening that he come through safe and sound. Melodramatic I know for wisdom tooth removal, but hey, my father didn't call me Sarah Bernhardt for nothing ( google it). Less than 30 minutes later the nurse walks outside to get me ( that would never happen at home; year-round sun makes people nicer, I'm convinced) and of course I think there is a problem; why else would she come and get me? But no, he's all done and doing fine. My heart rate and breathing return to normal and I go inside to claim my slightly loopy child, cheeks full of gauze. "Root" of all pain gone, not a single stitch required.
From that moment forward this was a pleasure trip. Not a person did I meet who didn't overwhelm me with kindness. Each and every staff member at the oral surgeons office (beginning long before I got here on the phone), the girl at the CVS pharmacy who filled 3 prescriptions in record time using only an iPhone image of my insurance card. The hotel manager and all the guests who heard or overheard my story along the way and never missed an opportunity to ask me how my son was doing when we passed in the lobby or by the pool. Sandy, the waitress at the hotel restaurant who kept my breakfast check open till David made it downstairs and sweetly encouraged him to eat his scrambled eggs. His beautiful girlfriend who's hotel visit made him smile the way a mother can't. And of course all the facebook posts, phone calls and text messages from friends and family that kept everything in perspective, made me laugh, and cursed my unfortunate hours sunning by the pool. Drama aside, I won't complain about nursing him back to health poolside (he was upstairs sleeping and I was only a text away) . I checked on him hourly and brought him soft food. He wanted me to be happy, so why would I disappoint him and sit by his bedside when I could be a mere nine floors below on a lounge chair. It didn't hurt that he didn't swell, complain, or get out of bed much for the first 24 hours. The two days that followed were an easy routine of sleeping, eating, medicating, icing, movie watching and talking (when he was awake enough to participate in the conversation). Despite the reason, we had a perfectly relaxing weekend. Not sure when I'll get another chance to have his undivided attention for 72 hours. I know that he was happy I was there and I wasn't driving him crazy, what more could I ask for? By Saturday he was well on his way to 100% and even spent a few hours with me at the pool. We walked to campus for a dinner outside of the hotel room. Sitting outside enjoying Tucson's spectacular warm evening sun was a welcome change of venue from the room that we had not let housekeeping enter for the duration of our stay. The main drag was busy with young tan undergrads all sporting some sort of U of A apparel. If I had to do college again, I'd do it in a place like this, no doubt about it. Not at this age of course, I'd have to be 18 again too. I'm not sure there could ever be a bad hair day out here, what kind of impact would that have had on my college experience?
We started a conversation at dinner that flowed from religion to movies to this semesters classes and continued long after we were back in the dark hotel room, illuminated only by the light of our computers and unnecessary television. By 8 pm we were in our beds talking about what happens next in his life, scripts and story lines he's kicking around ( same professional dreams he's had all along, but suddenly more refined and realistic ) . He answers all my questions with the confidence of an adult who knows exactly what he wants and the drive to pursue it, and he listens intently to my suggestions and commentary. We talk about his friends, the 10 boys (sorry, men) who share 2 adjacent houses off- campus. They have been his Arizona family for 4 years and one of the most important things he will take with him after graduation. Strange but true, but I leave him in good hands with this crew. They have certainly seen him at his worst and love him for his best; they are the kind of friends that you hope your children pick up along the way. I fall asleep long before him, happy knowing that he's ready for whatever comes next. I needed to be here to get him through this little obstacle, but he's not a little boy anymore. Apparently he didn't need the wisdom in those 4 teeth. As in my own college experience, he has learned as much (maybe more) outside the classroom as in it. Proud mother, another son successfully launching into the world.
In retrospect, I gained a little wisdom too this weekend. I learned to trust my gut (mothers intuition is usually right), and that geography and logistics can't stop a mother who needs to get to her kid. I learned that I can survive for 3 days with a carry-on bag, no accessories or cosmetics, 2 pairs of pants, a few shirts, flip-flops, sneakers, a toothbrush and a bathing suit - everything else is available at CVS ( I never said all the knowledge was earth shattering). And most importantly, as my empty nest rapidly approaches, I learned that there will always be times when my children need me, even when they say they don't.
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Post-Script (s)
Still waiting to board at 10:30 pm, but now I'm sitting on the floor next to a cement pole charging my iStuff. It took me almost 20 minutes to find a single available outlet which I am now using to alternately charge the phone and the pad. I should have enough juice at this point to make it through the first leg, especially if I attempt any sleep. I have an hour or so layover in Charlotte, NC hopefully giving me a chance to recharge for the remainder, use a non-airplane restroom and post this blog. I'll keep you updated from the air..courtesy of go-go in flight wi-fi.
Currently somewhere above 10,000 feet. No clue what time zone I'm in. My watch says 5:15 (kept it on CT time for the duration), my iPad says 2:15 and my phone says 4:15. Help, should I be tired or getting ready to wake up? If I'm calculating correctly, and that's a huge "if" , I've been flying for 4 hours. I've had my eyes closed for maybe an hour, not really sleep - maybe a meditative trance, and haven't made a single trip to the restroom. I'm at 39and 17% power on my iPad and phone, respectively, if we don't land soon I could be forced to power down before I'm ready. I'm sure my seat mates would be more than pleased as I am not being very respectful of the "night flight dark cabin mode." Hey, It's not a rule, simply a courtesy, and I've got blogging to do. Just to clarify, I do not have the overhead light on, that would be a bit much, even for me. Actually, I'm feeling like this is a good place to wrap it up. My eyelids are feeling a bit heavy and the current spot in my music library would be good fall asleep tunes. Thanks for keeping me company along the way, hope we talk again soon.
Because I'm sure you would want to know....at just about the moment I previously signed off, the stewardess voice announced our decent into Charlotte and the cabin lights were lit. So much for the last minute shut eye. I have since travelled half-way through the airport to my next departure terminal, and faced the moment of truth at Starbucks, caffeine or no caffeine. I went Venti full-power. The next flight is too short for a full sleep and my brain says morning = coffee. I'm back sitting on the airport floor, 2 outlets all to myself, and ready to post.
