Thursday, April 01, 2010

Good Riddance Tonsils; We Won't Miss You.

Ella had her tonsils and adenoids removed and tubes put in both ears Tuesday morning. One week after her last ENT appointment, but only because I harrassed the scheduling lady until she squeezed us in. The day after the appointment when he told us he was going to take them out, she woke up with a runny nose that made her able to breathe even less than she could already. For three days I managed to get a decongestant in her, and then she decided she was finished taking medicine (with the exception of Motrin and Tylenol, thank goodness). At any rate, the surgery couldn't come soon enough.

As directed, I starved her after midnight Monday, and didn't let her have a drink of anything after seven Tuesday morning. With the exception of a meltdown at 2:00 Tuesday morning when she REALLY wanted some milk, she handled it quite well. I had explained to her that she could have some Coke when she woke up, but no milk and then I would have to put her cups away. Well, when she got thirsty later, she first asked for milk. I told her she couldn't have any until after the doctor fixed her throat. So she asked for Coke. I told her she couldn't eat or drink anything until after the doctor fixed her throat. She told me, "Bag. Cup." That meant, "Get my cup out of the bag." Our conversations went like that all morning. She knew we were going to the hospital for kids to get her throat fixed.

Once we got into a room to wait on the surgeon, she started to melt down a little. The waiting was just too much. There were several crying fits just because, and she DID NOT want to wear her hospital gown and bracelet. She took the gown off twice before I gave up on it and let her go in her diaper. As predicted, the hardest part of the entire day was handing her over to the nurse and watching her walk away from us with my crying daughter in her arms. Then we waited.

They moved us to a real room to stay the night, and that's where they brought her back to us. She was pitiful. She'd obviously cried hard when she woke up because the were tears and snot smeared all over her face and hair. She had a new sippy cup clenched in a death grip. When the nurse put her in my arms, she started waving and saying, "Hey, baby." I'm not sure if she actually saw the picture of a baby on the back of the door or if she was hallucinating from the good drugs, but it made me feel better to hear her say something she always says. Then, completely out of character, she held up the cup and said, "Apple juice" and drank it down. Then she passed out for 3 hours. They had given her morphine before she left the recovery room because they didn't know if the crying was from pain or wanting me. Whatever, I was grateful that she was knocked out and not feeling anything. She woke up a little here and there through the afternoon - once long enough to eat some yogurt and finish her juice, and once to eat some mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and chicken and drink some milk.

Each time she woke up, she passed back out, so we didn't even try to get some more medicine in her until after 6:00. That was a debacle. The doctor had prescribed Loritab for her, and apparently the liquid kind is nasty. The nurse managed to squeeze the whole dropper into her in between the writhing, screaming fits, and then she threw it all up. So, she gave her some Motrin instead. That apparently worked well enough for her. Later we tried the antibiotic, and the results were even less successfull than the Loritab. It looked like a Pepto Bismol bottle had exploded all over her and the room when we were finished. Yes, she hates taking medicine. She hasn't always been this way, but she's just had enough of it lately.

Through the whole evening she kept saying "Band-aid, take it." That means take it off, and "band-aid" referred to both the IV taped to her hand and the oxygen monitor. The novelty of those things wore off quickly. They had unhooked her from the IV pump, but the she stayed connected to the oxygen monitor all night - that is when she didn't take it off. That thing nearly drove me out of my mind. We managed to keep it on her most of the night once she was sleeping, except when she rolled over and it popped off her finger and the alarm blared through the relative quiet in the room. Sometime in the middle of the night, she held up her IV hand with the little port hanging off and said, "Take it tag!"

In between begging to "go home" and "take it" she handled everything really well and was quite funny about her hospital experience. Late in the evening we found a wagon and walked around the hospital for a while just to get our of our room. There was a big display of Disney characters that we spent quite a while studying and talking to. She did wake up screaming once in the middle of the night when the Motril wore off, so we tried the Loritab again. It didn't go well and once I got her calmed down, Dave suggested we just wait for the Motrin. The nurse brought it back and hour later and that's all she had until morning.

She slept with me on the chair cot because her room came equipped with a crib. That was a joke. She looked at that thing with disdain when I asked if she wanted to lay there with her pillow. She did sit on it to eat her supper, and we used it for a changing table, but otherwise it was a large bedside table for us. She hasn't slept in a crib in 9 months, so I knew that wasn't going to happen. Squeezing the two of us onto the cot was interesting, but we were both tired enough that we did actually get a little sleep on it. Her more than me, of course. She was still sleeping when the doctor came in at 6:15 the next morning. He said, "Listen, you can't hear anything." I think I teared up when he said that. It's so true. She's so quiet when she sleeps now, and even during a disruptive night in the hospital for kids she got better sleep than she has in months. I'm so very grateful.

The first thing she said when she woke up was "go home" so we got out of there quick. We were on the road by 7:15, equipped with a prescription for Loritab that I didn't even fill and a prescription for antibiotics. She's supposed to take it twice a day for ten days. Yeah right. I'm putting it in her milk. She's drinking less milk. :) Oh well, I'm trying. For pain, we are alternating Motrin with Tylenol because our Motrin doesn't last as long as the hospital's dose.

She's doing really well. I know from her behavior when it's time for more medicine, otherwise she's playing, eating and drinking. She's sleepier than normal, but she's handling this all better than I ever expected. For that, I'm also grateful.

Thanks to everyone for the prayers. I can already see the positive effects of this surgery in her demeanor and her peaceful sleep. The change in 24 hours time is dramatic.

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