Torture

Thursday had to be my my difficult day as a mother yet.
Now I know, there is nothing in the world worse than seeing your child suffer. (Other than seeing them die, I hear)

You are forewarned. This is a long post.

My boy went back for a routine checkup to the ear/nose/throat doctor who did his tubes last year. I thought it would be a routine checkup, though we had been forewarned that one of his tubes was out and that another round of surgery would be necessary.

Then my husband calls back from the appointment, telling me that the doctor now wants to take out the boy's adenoids and tonsils too.

The ear fluid problem had come back in the ear where the tube popped out, plus the doctor said that my son's breathing problems at night would make the surgery worthwhile.

It was an awful day to hear the news. All the layoffs at my paper. My personal stress over a controversial story that I had trouble putting together. Our disagreements over my son's kindergarten. And now a triple dose of surgery, that would require an overnight stay at the hospital.

Then to top everything off, my husband said that the doctor had a sudden opening on the 24th, and would we want to take that, other than waiting until July. There were just 2 minor cons to it - he would miss his PreK graduation and he would still be in recovery while I attend a long-awaited journalism fellowship.

But it had to get done.

Monday was the day that we tried to take care of all the pre-op work, the reams of paperwork for me to sign away every single potential liability out there, plus the boy needed to give a blood sample. It was a long, tedious morning, shuffling from one office to another, filling out all the paperwork and waiting a long long time between each round of questions. At last, they called us in for the blood work. They tied the tourniquet on his arm and my son yelled "Ow" and shot the nurse a deadly look. It took 3 people to complete the task - my husband to hold him in his lap, one nurse to hold the arm in place and a 3rd to actually take the blood. My boy screeched at the top of his lungs the whole time, crying and turning red. It was awful.

I tried to give him something to look forward to during the week, so I prepped him for a special new toy. He wanted a set of Star Wars Legos (no influence by me of course ;). It would be his post-op treat.

Thursday started for us at 5 a.m. We packed the car, prepped some food, got ourselves ready and then got the boy up at 6 a.m., so we could get to the hospital by 6:30. All went smoothly, for about 1 1/2 hours. He was in his normal mood. Then Daddy mentioned that we would have to stay at the hospital that night. It would be a vacation of sorts.

But the boy wanted none of it. He wanted to go home. He threw a fit, the only one of the morning. And it took a while for me to calm him down, and remind him that we would be here from him.

Finally, they took him away and my husband and I sat in a tiny waiting room with the other parents waiting for their child's surgery. We waited. Chatted. Got some coffee and runny eggs. Chatted some more. Doctor came out. Surgery was a success. Boy had enlarged tonsils and enlarged adenoids so this was all good.

Then we waited. And waited. And waited. 30 minutes for him to come out of anesthesia stretched into 45. Then one of the post-surgerical nurses came out to fetch us.

We rushed in and from across the room, I could see my son, masked, sitting up in bed with a violent round of hiccups. His body shook every few seconds, head bobbing and eyes aglaze.

He cried and fought us and tried to pull off the oxygen mask. He couldn't take a breath without shaking. It took me a minute until after the shock of seeing wore off that I finally realized.

Oh my God, he's hyperventilating.

"Is this normal?" I ask the nurse. It seemed too obvious, but I had to ask.
"No, it's not normal. That's why your son will be in ICU."
"Can't you give him something for this?"
"No," she said, very seriously. Then she gabbered about some potential complications or counteractions if she did give him one drug that could stop the hyperventilating.

So began the longest half hour of my life, trying to comfort my boy, as he cried and raged and shook and hyperventilated, as I tried to hold him despite oxygen masks and monitors and wires snaking around his little body, while I tried to talk to him and sing to him and orient him and help him, while I tried to explain why he had the mask and the wires and an awful pain in his throat.

I tried our old lullabies. I climbed into bed and managed to find a way to hold him without pulling apart all the equipment. I whispered "Shhhhhhhh", like they recommend to calm a colicky baby. I rested my cheek on his forehead, his favorite head tuck position. I willed the tears away, as best as I knew how.

Eventually, he calmed down. His breathing normalized. His heart rate dropped. The panic attack was over.

As the situation eased, I started to feel the torment myself. I got sick to my stomach and felt faint. My head started spinning and I knew that in a moment, I would pass out. I laid my head at the base of his bed, hoping the queasiness would pass soon.

Then we headed to the ICU room, where we would spend the next 20 hours. He slept a lot, drank a little, ate a bit. He watched a lot of TV and threw up a couple of times, but it was clear spit - not a bit of blood to it. We read a lot of books and Daddy put together his new Star Wars Tie fighter. It was a tedious wait but he slept through most of it, so the time passed well. And there was not another respiratory attack, just a thick, wet congestion to his breathing.

Overall, he did fine. With all the fluids and food, he was recovering well. He spoke little, but was in decent spirits. Only once did he have a fit, when suffered a moment of homesickness.

Four days later, I can say that he's doing well. Gradually, his personality has been restored. His mischevous grin, his vivid imagination, his need to run around, all of that is coming back slowly. He's been eating pretty well and drinking plenty of fluids. The congestion is easing and he's talking more and more each day.

They say the first week is the hardest, but then he'll be fine. I just hope this is all worth it.