A Prescription for Pie

Image found here. 

Well.

I'm happy to report that Daughter's surgery proceeded flawlessly, she had minimal pain and is happily playing video games with her sister while recuperating.

I'm happily recuperating, too.

I had no doubts that everything would be fine, really. But because I am a nurse, and because I did work for a few years in a recovery room, and because I have seen what happens when things go wrong in spite of very good surgeons and anesthesiologists and nurses.......well, let's just say that I am very pleased with today's results.

Which is not to say that I sat quietly in the waiting room during Daughter's recovery. I did need to ask very pointed questions regarding induction techniques and medications administered and post-op care. With tact and restraint, I might add. I think. But I asked those questions nonetheless. Once I received satisfactory answers and Daughter was ready to go, we poured her into a wheelchair and then into Goldie and headed back to her apartment.

Once she was tucked into her bed with ice packs applied and medications administered, Daughter peaceably drifted off to sleep, which left me prowling restlessly around the apartment needing to DO something.

Which of course, meant that I needed to bake a pie. And make a pot roast with gravy. And mashed potatoes, much to both my girls' amusement. They have both seen me in this mode before.

Why do I act this way, you ask? It's a question that I ask myself often. Why do I need to approach stressful situations with this two-pronged approach: First - do I need to apply first aid or medication or splints or ice packs to this situation? and Secondly - what kind of FOOD can I make or procure that would provide optimum sedative effects to all parties involved?

It's a knee-jerk response and totally beyond my control. If I wasn't able to make a pie or mash potatoes this afternoon, I sincerely think that I would have required serious psychiatric assistance.

Luckily for all of us, the pie and roast and gravy and mashed potatoes were ready just as Daughter's friends began to arrive around suppertime. They all came to wish her a speedy recovery and bring pudding. Every single one brought pudding. AND they were all delighted to join us for dinner, even though post-surgery Daughter was only allowed to eat mashed potatoes (and pudding).

I'm heading back home tomorrow knowing that both my girlies will be fine. And they have a refrigerator well-stocked with comfort food for the next few days.

Which makes me comfortable, too.