CHAPTER 4: The Hospital

We stopped at McDonald's for lunch, and all I was able to eat was a small fry and a small Cherry Coke—not just because I'd been so sick, but that was also the only thing that didn't make my throat hurt like fire. And best of all, Mom made sure to ask for extra ice.

A LOT of extra ice.

When we got back, we saw Daddy, Kristy, and Jason in the front yard. Daddy was using the weed whacker, and Kristy and Jason were sitting on the swing. When I got out of the car as Daddy was finishing his chore, I heard Mom say, "Watson, can I talk to you?"

"Sure," Daddy said as he leaned the weed whacker against a tree.

I didn't hear the whole conversation, but I had a pretty good idea what Mom was telling him. "How are you feeling?" Kristy asked as I sat between her and Jason on the porch swing and laid my head on Jason's shoulder, just like I'd done during the trip home from Washington.

"Well, I need to have my tonsils out," I told them.

"I'm sorry, kid," Jason said sympathetically as I snuggled closer to him, and he stroked my hair.

Just then, Mom and Daddy joined us on the porch. "I'll be here around 5:00, and we'll go to the hospital," Mom said. I nodded.

I know this is probably the craziest thing you've ever heard, but I couldn't wait to have this operation. (On the upside, I haven't had so many surgeries—or felt like it—that I actually hate it whenever someone other than me has to go under the knife.)

During the afternoon, Kristy helped me pack for the hospital. I threw a duffel bag onto the bed and packed the few things I would need: my reading glasses, my mp3 player, my copy of Ramona Quimby, Age 8, a clean outfit to wear home—a white dress and clean underwear—my toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, and my cord and charger for my mp3 player, just in case. I put on my sandals and carried my bag downstairs.

Promptly at 5:00, Mom pulled up in front of the house and honked the horn. Daddy put his arm across my shoulders and escorted me out to the car. "We'll be there tomorrow afternoon for your surgery, okay?" he said, giving me a kiss and opening the car door for me.

"'Bye," I said, fastening my seatbelt. He closed the door, and I waved as the car drove away.

When we arrived at the hospital, a nurse met us at the front desk. "Karen Brewer is here," Mom said.

"This way," the nurse said, and I liked her immediately. She had black hair that was cut like Mary Anne Spier's, and her name tag read "Missy". After entering her office to weigh and measure me, she led us to the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor.

As the elevator started moving, Missy said, "So, you're having your tonsils out tomorrow, huh?" I nodded.

"Don't worry," she said, patting my shoulder. "It'll be all over before you know it, and you can have all the ice cream you want."

I smiled as I remembered how Christina had told me about that.

"Well, here we are," Missy said as the elevator stopped and opened. After stopping at the nurse's station to pick up my file, she led us around the corner and into the first room.

"The call button is right there," she said, picking up the remote attached to the bed and pointing it out before putting the little plastic ID bracelet around my wrist. Then she handed me a hospital gown and pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

As I went into the bathroom to change, I thought about Jason and Christina. I remembered when we'd visited Jason at the hospital in Washington, and when I'd seen Christina in the playroom—which, at the time, was badly in need of fixing up. I was glad we'd done it, and it looks so much better now.

When I came out of the bathroom, after having used the toilet, I handed the specimen cup to the nurse and my clothes to Mom. She put my clothes in a plastic bag to take home as I sat on the bed and the nurse checked my vital signs.

After Missy left, I crawled into bed, and Mom asked, "Are you looking forward to having your tonsils out?"

"Yeah," I admitted as I spread the blanket over my lap and Mom raised the bedrail. "I'm a little scared, but I think I can handle it."

Mom patted my shoulder. "I know you'll be just fine," she said as she checked the blanket. "In fact, I'll stay here with you until you go to sleep, then I have to get back to Seth."

"Okay."

As I plugged in my mp3 player and listened to Rockapella's rendition of "Pretty Woman", I was also looking forward to the next day, and wondered what it would bring.