His last pedicure

I had thought I'd thought of everything. Until we were swaddled in Paw Patrol fleece on our way to dreamland.
He asked me why his hair was getting wet. "Mommy, my hair is wet. Can I have a pedicuWa? Are you feeling a little sick? Is it the gerwm?"
Can I get some more of those 4 year old, East Coast "R"s?
Can I live long enough to hear if they are always W's or will I die, alone, hot and forgotten, drowning in sounds and fluids, the beeping reminiscent of those years I spent assisting in cardiac, compressing and ecmo-ing...wishing I were swaddled in his blankets...Can I still add that to my advanced directive? Did I really enjoy the rush? Yes. I lived for it. The high, the comedown, the rush, the helping, the recognition and camaraderie.
Until I felt this love, this pull, this obligation, this drive, this warmth, this constant frustration that is motherhood. I don't want to die. I want to feel frustrated every day. A 4 year old is stronger than I am.


Back to reality. I'm home, not in ICU, yet. Jay is looking at me, as if I am stable. But, for the first time in my life, and I mean career, I am not stable.
I threw instruments at a doctor today. 
"Here! I can only do 14 things, what do you want first, this should not be a priority right now, you didn't do the thing and the other thing! You're asking for something you don't need AT ALL. (His response was simply, "ok. yeah, thank you, always keeping me on track. i'll get this and you get that and hold this").
What can be more stressful than closing the operating rooms for electives, then scheduling horrendous total revisions and asking me to "be sure i'm there, I'm your favorite, your cases go so well, you need me to punch all day" and I leave my child is in the care of someone I've never met, in my house, who cares for 3 other nurse's children each week, at a rate of nearly my whole day's pay?
I'm asking for infection. I'm putting my family at risk. For what? For patients who need me? I'm not a nurse, I've assisted in surgery for 20 years. You don't want me to start an IV and suction someone's...no. no. Airways are my biggest fear. Get away from the face. Blood, bones, yes. I do not want to wathc someone die the way my dad died. Suffocation looks awful. Cancer & lungs and not breathing, nope.

Back to bed...

No, baby, mommy was sobbing silently on your pillow, wishing this reality wasn't really happening to us, to everyone, worldwide. And, of course we can go trim your baby toenails. I may not get another chance. I tickled those baby feet, his little "kickstands" and back to bed we went. I wished I hadn't been so insistent on getting him to sleep in his own bed. I'll always regret that I didn't just hold him every night of his life, in my big bed that I so selfishly needed to myself. I'll always wonder if I could have possibly loved and held and kissed and read and played and stayed home instead of working.. should I be staying home rather than working? Do I care about consequences? I've never cared about money, as long as I can eat what I want and spoil my friends. I would give money away... Can I just live inside?
I had signed my will only hours before. Before I planned to get a studio apartment by myself and reduce the risk of exposure. I'd spent years obsessed with reading about pandemics, fascinated, curious, and willing. I'm not sure i'm willing to help anymore. I need to be here for random stall tactics, pedicures, and those 2, 4, 6 am "mommy, is it morning yet? screams.
I took a 2 week furlough to think. I don't GAF about money.



I have never been happier to get out of his blankets than I was at that moment he wanted a pedicure. Should I bring Paul in to show him how to cut Jay's nails? Will he always try to stall this way? Does he know I'm crying? I told him I'm not sick, it's not the germ, and yes, Mommy gets really hot at bedtime in the Paw Patrol fleece.