Saturday, November 13, 2010

On a Prayer

My big boy giving thumbs-up pre-surgery.

My little man Max had his tonsils and adenoids taken out yesterday. I wanted, selfishly, for the doctor to confirm it was the right decision after the surgery, and he did. He said Max's tonsils were, indeed, very large. In fact, they were larger than those of the nine-year-old he worked on after Max. And his adenoids were blocking 50 to 60 percent of his nose, so we should see improvement on many fronts. He may even spike a growth spurt!

So, that's the good news. The bad news is that he's having a very rough time. He is in a lot of pain, and he doesn't want to drink much. Couple that with a fever and Momma Warrior is battling his dehydration big-time.

Trying to sleep off the anesthesia after surgery

Just to mix things up even more, Lily started puking with the stomach virus about 20 minutes after we finally arrived home from the hospital with Max. And then, Colby's diaper exploded. Oh, Universe, you are so funny...

Shrek and I shipped Colby off to mammaw's, took turns comforting our other babies and held on tight to the knot at the end of the rope. Last night was extremely difficult. Luckily, Lily's vomiting had subsided by then, but Max was not well at all. Dave took the first shift with him, and I relieved him around 1:45 in the morning. Around 2 a.m., I felt a sense of panic. Max was crying incessantly, drooling everywhere, and his fever was rising fast. There was no one to call, and I was on my own.

It brought to mind a Sugarland song. I wanna be the one you run to first. Well, I've certainly been the one Max runs to first his whole life and especially in the last 24 hours. And that's a big job. Especially at 2 a.m. when you're the only one around with a very sick kid who dehydrates easily and hallucinates with fevers and also has a history of febrile seizures. (Oh, and he does, in fact, have a fever, won't drink, and won't stop crying.)

But I prayed, I soothed, I cajoled. I forced the medicine down, turned on James Taylor, and actually got to sleep with Max for about an hour and a half before the crying started again. We watched the sun rise, and I had faith things would get better. They have gotten better. Not much, but a little.

And I don't know how, but several people have told me they have fond memories of having their tonsils out. It has not been easy for either of my kids who have gone through it so far and many of the kids I know. I hope Max does NOT have memories of this, at least not the parts where we force the meds down his throat every four hours and how, already, we have gotten Tylenol with codeine in his eyes not once, not twice, but three times.

I pray, if he remembers anything at all, that he remembers my touch and how he didn't feel alone because his momma, seven months pregnant, was a warrior who helped the yuckies go away.

Please get better, little man. I am so proud of you!

1 comment:

  1. Im sure hes done much better than me, besides, he is the spawn of shrek ;) Hope you guys have a wonderful holiday season, Im sure I will run into you all at some point. Keep up the good work Max! Give everyone a big hug for me.



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