...Continued from When Babies Attack
Johnny and I jumped in his car, me at the wheel, and we took off for Overland Park Regional. It was a good 40 minute drive, even with my expert foot on the accelerator. We were both extremely nervous; my throat was lined with tasteless cotton candy; Johnny was wondering what more he could do to help; but we stayed calm and played it off well because we’re cool like that. I asked Johnny, Did he know any more details? No, not really. Lindsay hadn't said much on the phone, except that she was being wheeled into the hospital on a stretcher. Ah, gotcha.
I thought, I am skipping Theology 2 to go meet my child. I hope this all works.
We pulled into the parking lot and jumped out of the car, walking hurriedly. We rushed into the Doctors’ Patient Building and punched the elevator button, then rode impatiently to floor 3. We stepped out of the elevator and looked around. This isn’t where they deliver babies, is it? Nope. We jumped back into the elevator, and rode impatiently back to floor 1. Out the door—this time we headed straight toward the building that had the words Main Entrance pasted on the side in five-foot-high letters. They wouldn't fool us twice.
I walked into the operating room, briefly inspected the gaping incision in Lindsay’s stomach, and seated myself by her head. I smiled at her encouragingly, took her hand, and prepared myself to witness the bloody worst. At that moment my mother-in-law, dressed up to resemble one of the operation assistants in blue coveralls, hairnet, and mask, said, “Do you want to see your new baby boy?!” and I realized I had missed the whole show. Oh well.
Approximately 45 minutes had elapsed since Johnny had apprehended me on campus. The world is always changing, but rarely does it buck and jerk this wildly in three quarters of an hour.
To be continued...