(Writing from the parent terminal at Hinsdale Hospital)
Daughter made it through her tonsil/adenoid removal. She is an absolute trooper. The first 2 hours after waking up from anesthesia were pretty much filled with dry heaving and sobbing. The last 8 hours she's been ok as long as she could sit on top of myself or husband. We begged and promised pink unicorns if she would only take a drink of juice. And at last we realized that she just wanted her own sippy cup. Once her pink plastic cup was in hand she started chugging apple juice like a sailor on shore leave. Then jello! And she peed! Though they are keeping us overnight because of her age, we are relieved that she's doing so well.
The sad news is that Kate died this morning. She actually died at 7:30 AM. What time did daughter go under for surgery? Why that would be 7:30 AM. Given my pre-surgery fears, I think that this is not a coincidence. Call me crazy, I do all the time, but I think Kate was watching out for daughter. And strangely, I got a letter in the mail from her just yesterday. It was lovely and filled with gratitude towards my parents adopting me. For me, for coming back into her life. It was very much a goodbye letter, so I think she made some peace with moving on.
I'm sad. And relieved she's not in pain. And realizing how lucky I was that she greeted me with open arms when I came looking for her. I am glad that I got a chance to know her before she died.
And now I have to get some more cherry jello and go hug daughter.