Don't Lick My Gauze

Right now I'm on the second shift, taking care of B, who had a tooth pulled today under anesthesia. I'm also missing Legislative Process, a once-a-week class that I'll also miss in two weeks when I'm at a conference. Ouch. But I definitely made the right decision. B is loopy, semi-conscious, and needs someone to change the gauze and icepacks, get the applesauce, and listen to the funny things he says. Pretty hilarious.

I went to my daytime classes, and K went in late to work so she could take B out to his appointment, twenty miles across the valley in the suburbs. K, with B in tow, picked me up from the trainstop near our house. B was reclined in the front seat, hair disheveled, with a big white velcro headband wrapped around his jaw with an icepack, looking like Marley's Ghost.

While we were getting B settled, before K left for work, we changed the chunk of gauze ("it's like a tampon" B slurred). B stuck it in his mouth before taking the meds, though, so he took it back out momentarily, holding it between his fingers while swallowing the pills. At that point, our oldest cat, Gaia tried to jump up on the futon, right next to the gauze perched between B's wobbly digits.

"Don't lick my gauze!" he shrieks. Quintessential post-op moment.

Here's a picture of Gaia (Bo Baia), in her I'm-ready-to-pounce-and-give-you-love mode.

Now B is sleeping, amazed I put his used mouth tampon in my hand while getting him a new one. Oh yes. Now that's gotta be love.