The enforced end of an era, or two

I suppose the big news of the day was that we have had to withdraw Ottawacker Jr. from his football for the remainder of the season. It’s been on the cards, I suppose, but he started getting twinges in his elbow, in the same place in which he’ll be operated. So, I suppose, it was a no-brainer. Formulating the relevant messages and emails was a little more difficult though and he, of course, upset. So, that might be the last of the football photos for a while (every cloud, etc.) – although given the quality of the shite I have been posting of late, you may well be pining for them before too long.
 
We also had a video appointment with the nurse for his operation, this morning. She was lovely and went through the procedure, asking questions about his medical history, and then asking who would be the parent accompanying him into the operating room for his anaesthetic. I had visions of the Seinfeld episode in which the cast are watching a procedure and eating Junior mints… and had to quickly shake my head to get rid of it. It turns out that I will be doing the honours. I am not sure whether I get to administer the anaesthetic or not, but I suppose that, and any subsequent supplies we might need, can be sorted on the day. I have to emphasise that this is not something I am looking forward to at all. The op will last 110 minutes and I am not sure I own any books interesting enough to distract me from what will be going on in the next room. And, just to reaffirm, this is for a minor(-ish) elbow procedure. I really have no idea how any parent copes with their child having a serious operation; I hope to God I never have to find out.
 
After the meeting, I drove him into school for his final (abridged) day of Grade 6 and asked if he was nervous about the operation or about anything. “No,” he said. “I’m looking forward to getting it over and done with.” Fair enough. I have said many times he is more mature than I am…
 
The rest of the day was spend doing various chores. We were supposed to be having friends over for dinner – but I am still sick and it is unfair to inflict sickness and my cooking on anyone. So, we decided that Mrs. Ottawacker would take them and Ottawacker Jr. out for dinner to Light of India, and I would stay at home and self-medicate.
 
And this was the plan until Ottawacker Jr. returned home from school. Having dragged half his class down to Baskin Robbins for an end-of-year ice cream – and subsequently had it ruined by the diluvian monsoon that finally broke the heat – he turned up, bedraggled and chirpy with his friend Caelan. He and Caelan were going to hang out and Caelan was going to stay for dinner. “Is that OK?” he asked. Of course it is son. Actually, it is usually always OK, except that Caelan is deathly allergic to cats and we had had no time to prepare the house. So, we loaded him up with antihistamines (having called his mum first) and kept fingers firmly crossed.
 
The boys were, as always, a delight. Post dinner (pizza and French fries and salad), they decided the rain had stopped enough for them to go on a bike ride. I surveyed the mess, wondered if I could leave it for Mrs. Ottawacker to clean up or not, decided “not”, and so made an effort. She arrived home just as I had finished. Her sense of timing has always been impeccable.