After the numbing cream had been on there a while, they administered a few needle-free injections of another, deeper anesthetic. The needle-free injections work by forcing vapor molecules through the skin, and while the doctor and nurse claimed that they didn't hurt, Connor begged to differ-- he screamed like a stuck pig every time they used one. Then the doctor put in a couple of stitches and tied so many knots to the g-tube that it looks like a tangled fishing lure. Connor better not try and pull his tube out again, because substantial amounts of skin would be coming with it. After doing the whole thing, the surgeon discovered he'd tied the knots too tight on one side and it was pulling on Connor's skin, so he had to cut it, use another needle-free injection, and do that side again. Each needle-free injection site has a little cut where the medication went through, there are six little holes where the stitches were put in, and the manipulation of the g-tube while the doc was stitching ripped the scabs off where the old stitches were, so between all the holes and the crazy tangle of knots the g-tube site now looks less like a surgeon worked on it and more like one of my ill-fated teenage sewing projects.
Connor was not particularly appreciative of any of this. He made his opinion of the surgeon, the nurse, the g-tube, and his mother very, very clear. Also he pushed me away and asked for his father the rest of the day. Daddy would never have betrayed him in such a horrible manner-- unlike Mommy, who is a sinister presence at every one of the doctors appointments that involve needles.
We came home around six or so, and shortly thereafter the anesthetic wore off and Connor became the Saddest Boy The World Has Ever Known. This continued for the next three hours, until Jer and I skipped his aspirin dose and gave him some Ibuprofen on top of the Tylenol dose we'd already given him. He conked out twenty minutes later and has been asleep ever since. Poor little guy.