Adventures in Surgery

My two biggest concerns as we were getting closer to Brenden's surgery were

#1 - Would taking out his adenoids 

more negatively affect his already affected speech? 

and

#2 - How in the world would I keep him occupied and not worried about having to eat?

That kid wakes up every morning and without skipping a beat, he is asking to eat the second he sees me.  I was really worried about the time of his surgery because that would determine how many hours I would have to hold him off.  I wasn't sure what trickery I could pull out of my sleeve to keep him from having a hysterical breakdown because I was refusing to give him food.  I also wondered if he would be traumatized by my refusal and misled by my intentions.

My fears were intensified when they called and told me his appt was at 11:15am.  I was truly expecting 7:30am or something.   And you know that's not even when the surgery would be because we would have to hurry and get there and then wait forever.  Which we did.  Only, they called me later that night (the night before the surgery) to move him up to 10:30am.  

Cam, Bren and I had gone to a "pre-surgery class" at PCH on Tues to get a tour, watch a video and learn more about the surgery.  The kids got to do some social play with medical things and they even got operating room dress-up clothes to bring home as well as a hospital buddy.  The hospital buddy is a little homemade doll that you can draw on and bring back with you to the hospital (which we didn't). 

So after going to this class, I expected the youngest kids to have their surgeries first, our surgery to be scheduled in the early morning, and everything to run smoothly and efficiently.  I mean, what hospital prepares their children for surgery with a class and a tour and souvenirs to take home with them?  It was unheard of to me - responsible, considerate, above and beyond.  

I was going to be calm and collected.  

Even after the first waiting room....

And the second...

...and the third...

INSTEAD, 

I was in tears

a s    a l l    t h e   S T  R E S S   o f   p r e p a r a t  i o n

the worry of Brenden not getting to eat

the thought of having to stay overnight with him by myself

the change in his surgery time that didn't seem to make a difference 

the possibility of talking with his ENT and having them changing the plan 

to also getting his adenoids out at the last minute 

s t a r t e d   w e i g h i n g   d o w n   o n   m e 

especially after I had watched the clock ticking slowly toward 12:05, 

the actual time he was supposed to go into the OR,

and we were in the final waiting room 

watching kid after kid 

after OLDER kid 

meeting with their anesthesiologists and their ENTs

and riding off into the sunsets in their Little Tykes wagons, 

clutching their hospital buddies

sweetly oblivious and going off to their surgeries 

LONG before my sweet little tiny baby who was MUCH YOUNGER than any of them 

still sat in his goofy girl hospital pj top and was only taking joy rides in the wagon

The joy rides were mostly for me to calm down and for the nurses to see me walking in front of their tall, uninviting desk trying to keep the YOUNG child busy while we continued to wait.  

I got Bren out of the wagon and let him run free.  

I just stood there staring and raging in my head.

Through my tears, I looked over at Bren...

he was content and playing with the crayola markers

coloring his arms and face and sticking one marker in his ear and TWISTING IT

I was at my last drop of sanity. 

By the time I came out of the bathroom from trying to stop myself from looking like a wreck,

the ENT and the nurse and the anesthesiologist

were finally all there giving us the run-down....

I would like to tell you that it was a pleasant experience 

but it was so out of my comfort zone that it was almost miserable.  

The only thing I can absolutely assure you of is that 

PRAYERS ARE HEARD AND ANSWERED.

I had my mom and dad so worried that they were praying all week for things to go well and my dad even put Brenden's name on the prayer roll at the temple.  We had family prayers and individual prayers that everything would go well and my mom and I even prayed specifically that Bren wouldn't be hungry.  

And I need to tell you 

that as the nurse was taking Bren 

through the "See Ya Later" door, 

well past 12:30pm

he did the sign for drink to me as I was waving goodbye 

and that was the ONLY time he ever asked me for anything to eat that whole morning.  

PRAYERS ARE HEARD AND ANSWERED 

and I am so thankful.

And 30 minutes later, he was finished and crying for his momma in the recovery room.

All that stress and prayer for a 30 minute surgery

where they took out the top of his "big" adenoids,
along with his tonsils and put tubes in his ears.

And as Rhett was listening to how the surgery went, there was an Elvis sighting!

(What the...? We were trying to stifle our laughter...)

Later, the three of us sat in our assigned hospital room 

and watched HSM2 over and over as Bren clung to our necks and sipped slushies,

sucked down popsicles and even had some jello, pudding and mac and cheese.

It was looking so good that I almost started to feel hopeful about going home.  

But even around 9pm when the nurse shift changed and I unsuccessfully tried to bargain with the new nurse about going home, I knew that I would have to accept the torture of the night.

And besides this adorable face, it was torture.  

I had a rash from the sheets made out of construction paper on the bed, 

the room was a constant 74 degrees and couldn't be changed, 

Bren was snoring loudly all night 

and coughed probably every ten minutes throughout the whole first part of the night 

(until the 4:30 am check and between the 9pm and 1am check), 

bren's oxygen sensor constantly beeped throughout the night because he kept going below 88 

and especially around 3:30am when I guess he had woken up and ripped the sensor off his toe

and our room was right by a door that everyone seemed to need 

to open loudly 

every few minutes 

at all hours of the night.

TORTURE.

The nurse who changed at 6am came in and woke me up by loudly asking how I was doing.  Well, I was finally SLEEPING, that's how I was doing.  

(ARE YOU KIDDING?)

I was so annoyed and even shushed her because HELLO?  

I have a sleeping baby next to me who just had his throat cut up!  

He kind of needs some uninterrupted sleep here, lady!

I was flabbergasted.

So I got up a while later and packed us up.  

I was SO not staying another minute.

All in all, they were great and very helpful and I'm sure top notch when it comes to hospitals, but I do not think any night in any hospital is EVER comforting, calming or peaceful unless you are completely knocked out.  

And Bren is doing fine.  

He has the foulest breath ever 

but is drinking and sipping slushies, popsicles, Capri Suns, shakes, whatever, 

has a low grade fever here and there throughout the day 

(which they said would be normal for the first 48 hours or so) 

and is starting to be more like himself playing and screaming at his brother.  

He is on Lortab with Tylenol, Amoxicillan and Ofloxacin ear drops.  

He takes his meds like a champ and is seriously such a good boy. 

He's been sleeping in every morning (no complaints here!!) and takes an extra long nap. 

He has stained the shoulders of a few of my shirts with his slobber, 

but I can't complain there either because he is constantly wanting to snuggle with me.  

His throat has two huge white-ish gray patches on his throat 

that I guess are supposed to fall off one of these days

And I have watched more movies than I can remember.  

I can't do much else but hold him 

and try to convince him to drink something 

because he throws a huge, adorable fit if I try and put him down

so please don't come by and visit 

because it is horrible how much a house becomes a disaster in only a few short days.