control

Dexter likes his "vanilla milk" (elemental formula for toddlers)

Dexter is doing great, the doctors say we can go home tomorrow (which means 2-3 days in hospital-speak), and by all accounts things are better than they've been in weeks. So why did a minor issue with the in-room dining service send me into a fit of tears tonight?

Control.

As great as things are going, we are still in the hospital and being in the hospital means I have no control. The doctors gave the OK for Dexter to try solid foods tonight, so I called the dining service to order him a bowl of oatmeal. The woman taking my order told me that I couldn't order him anything because their computer still shows him as being on "infant feeding" (formula-only). Somehow his file hasn't been updated, even though the doctors have written orders that say he can eat. OK, simple misunderstanding, so why the tears?

At home, if my son needs a bowl of oatmeal I go to the kitchen and make him some oatmeal. 5 minutes, tops. Here in the hospital, if the computer file isn't updated, the dining service can't give me oatmeal. To solve this, I have to page the nurse, wait for her to respond (can take up to 30 minutes if things are busy), explain the situation, wait for her to fix it, call dining services again, order the food, and then wait for them to deliver it. 45 minutes if I'm lucky.

I'm praying for the grace to see the lesson here... maybe something about how our get-it-now Western civilization has given us the illusion of having control over our lives... but right now I am too tired and frustrated to think about it. I just wanna go home and make my kid some darn oatmeal.