Tonsils, Adenoids, and Tubes, Oh My!

H. Luke will have his tonsils and adenoids removed and tubes put in his ears two weeks from today. He’s following the same medical path as Ella – suddenly and consistently sick at 16 months, living on antibiotics, gradually becoming less and less able to breathe and sleep. Only this time, we knew what to look for and got him to the ENT before his situation got as severe as hers.

I knew tubes and adenoids were coming. He’s had an ear infection since Christmas, even without having a cold, and he started snoring/snorting and sounding congested all the time. He keeps falling down because his balance is off from the fluid in his ears. There’s been a lot of choking/gagging when eating and sleeping, and of course, plenty of vomit to go with it. That made me suspect his tonsils, too. Then last week, when he was full-on wailing at me while I tried to suck out his nose, I got a good look at those tonsils. They are so big they’re almost touching each other. They are coming out.

I’m hoping this explains some of his recent, sudden terribleness. I’m hoping that after he recovers from surgery, he’ll be back to his sweet self again. If he’s not, well, I think I’m going to rent him out as an all-natural, non-hormonal form of birth control. If you can survive an evening with Luke without him getting hurt, you getting hurt, or yelling, then you are probably ready for kids. (Note that these criteria disqualify me from parenting most evenings, but it’s too late for me.) It takes mad wrestling skills to change that kid’s diaper. I’ve resorted to pinning the top half of him down with one leg and using The Claw to hold his legs while I change him. It’s not pretty, and it should totally count as a workout in my Healthmiles activity journal.

Also? The crying. Some days I cannot do a single thing right. Walk into his field of vision? Crying. Walk out of his sight? Crying. Pick him up? Crying. Put him down? Crying. And sometimes, most times, he either throws whatever is in his hands or throws himself in the floor. He even bit Grandmother’s dog on the head the other day for lack of something to throw and on account of she was standing right next to him. That animal is a saint in a dog’s body.

So, I have high hopes for his surgery because there’s enough sweetness peeking out of him for me to know it’s still in there. When I give him his cup, he tells me, “Thank you, Mommy. Ju-ju.” When I help him get his ball out from under the dresser, he tells me, “Thank you.” He takes good care of his baby. He loves and pats us when there’s something wrong. I just think he doesn’t feel well and he shows it with his attitude rather than being obviously sick. This face doesn't look so terrible, does it?

Luke feeding his Baaaby.

Like Ella did, he’ll have to spend the night in the hospital because he’s under two. I completely dread trying to keep an IV in his hand for 12-ish hours and sleeping on the world’s most uncomfortable hospital cots. I also just dread seeing him so pitiful after the surgery, but it needs doing.

And just for good measure, here is the tonsil and adenoid free big sister, helping the baby Maggie Beth with her balance beam routine.

EGR coaching gymnastics.