"how's alexander doing?"

It's late September.  

"What do you think this is?" Alexander asks. My son is referring to some odd-feeling thing in his mouth.

I have no idea what the thing is and suggest he see a dentist. He does. In fact, he sees both a dentist and an oral surgeon. The result, as expected, are two impacted wisdom teeth that have to be removed.

We choose Dr. Clifford Salm, the same person two of my good friends have used. We are warned by everyone about swelling, pain, bleeding and a myriad of other post-operative possibilities.

Alexander is not worried about the pain. Just dying. He searches the internet and unearths all the deaths that have ever resulted from general anesthesia. He fears a bad reaction, and is adamant. "I don't want to be put under."

I load up on the foods I think my son will be able to eat: soups, yogurts, and jello.The soups get returned. I had no idea my son hates them; all of them, apparently.

This morning I go with Alexander to Dr. Salm's office. I need to leave around 10; the surgery is scheduled for 9, and Shari will pick him up to take him home. I am working today.

The doctor is calming. My son is relaxed. I know he's in good hands. 

I sit in the waiting area, and about eight  pages into my book, the nurse comes out. "Alexander is ready." It's not even 10.  My son can't talk because his mouth is filled with gauze, but otherwise, he looks the same as he did when he arrived an hour earlier. 

Shari takes Alexander home, and I go to work. I imagine he sleeps throughout the day. I feel bad that I can't be home with him. I try calling but with a mouth filled with cotton pads it's difficult for Alexander to speak. So I text.

So in answer to the question, "How's Alexander doing." He doing just fine. Thank you Dr. Salm.