Primo was only given one dose of morphine, the morning before his appendectomy. But it seemed to take a pretty long time to make its way out of his system. I am referring specifically to some totally nutty dreams the kid had, the first few nights after his surgery. On the first night, he was so doped up, I don’t think he dreamt at all, was just out like a light, when he wasn’t waking me to navigate the IV pole to the bathroom. But on the second night, when we were at home, things got wild.
I was so bone tired the day we got home from the hospital that I fell asleep at 7pm, literally in the middle of reading Harry Potter to Primo. I just remember reading and then hearing David say, “What happened to Mommy? She was just reading a minute ago.” And then blissful, sublime quiet. But a few hours later, I heard Primo calling and I ran into his bedroom to find him moaning.
“Oh honey! Are you OK? Does it hurt?”
“Ooooooo nooooo, not the Spanish teacher! Not the Spanish teacher!” Primo moaned, writhing around.
“What are you talking about? Oh my God, do you have a fever? Are you hallucinating?”
He didn’t seem to be hot at all. Just wild-eyed.
“Oooooo, ooooooohhhhh. Now I can’t play quidditch! Quidditch is exercise!”
Reality met fantasy. Primo was Harry Potter and Harry Potter had just had his appendix out. You’re not supposed to do exercise after you have your appendix out. So, no quidditch.
“Are you sleeping? PRIMO! You’re sleeping! You are not Harry Potter!”
“Ohhh. Ooooooh. What is a mumble mumble?”
“What? What is a what?”
“What is a mumble mumble?”
“I can’t hear you. What is a WHAT?”
“Oooooohhhhh. Ooooh nooooo. What is a RAVENCLAW???”
Since I was just about as high as he was, except just from exhaustion, I wasn’t much help. I actually tried to answer his question.
“A raven is a black bird and his claw is his talon. I am Nicole Kear and you are my son. You are not Harry Potter. I repeat you are not Harry Potter.”
Next time the kid gets morphine, I am demanding some as well. It really is only fair.
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