Today, my Chels got her tonsils taken out. She did a great job and I am so proud of her. They schedule the surgeries youngest first, taking the babies first and then the patients get increasingly older.
She was a little bit scared at first, but she had her iPod shuffle and "zoned" out while we were waiting for her turn.
The surgery center where she had the proceedure done was very efficient, I spoke with both the doctor and the anethesiologist during our 20 minute wait. The were quick, efficient, but also very patient in anwering any questions I had about the proceedure and recovery time. I was fairly impressed.
They took her back and I waited in the waiting room for about 30 minutes. The Doc came back and told me she had done just fine and was groggily resting in the recovery room.
While I was sitting in the waiting room, I had an enigmatic experience. I had been working on this project. Carefully sewing the little seams back together with tiny running stitches, and appliqueing a few pieces that were too fragile for the running stitches. There was a lady sitting next to me, the grandmother of the girl who was taken back just after Chels. She sat and played a Nintendo DS game as I stitched on my quilt. I felt so juxtaposed, so twisted in time.
I was amused that no one stopped to look at my work, no one inquired what I was doing. The nurse in recovery asked me if I was sewing a blanket. A blanket?! Sheesh, that's like calling a 1967 Mustang just a car!
What has happend to our world? Has our maternal ancestors faile to pass the torch of our craft? Where are the mothers and nurterors of tomorrow if the grandmothers are playing video games instead of following Titus