Quinn had his tonsils out this week. He’s doing great.
In fact, he’s almost doing a little too great. The instructions I
got at the hospital about his pain medication said he would need it
every four hours for the first few days, even through the night, and
then we could slowly work him onto ibuprofen instead. But he really
doesn’t like the medicine, and I don’t know how to make a kid swallow
something he doesn’t want to swallow (yes we tried mixing it with
pudding, yes we tried being persuasive, yes we tried just forcing it
down….) so we’ve been leaving it more to him. And he’s fine. When his
throat is sore he’ll drink some ibuprofen and then he’s good for long
He’s been sleeping while his sisters are at school and when
they are home he’s so distracted and happy when playing with them he
doesn’t mention his throat. So we’re just monitoring his food and
keeping him away from the clementines and anything scratchy looking.
We’ve made frozen treats abundantly available. Before the operation I
asked him what kinds of ice cream we should pick up and he said,
“Chocolate, chocolate and chocolate.” (That’s my boy!)
I’m so glad it’s over. I’m trying very hard not to feel guilty about having canceled his operation last year
(because there is no point in stirring that up, but mommy guilt works
in mysterious ways). Last year he just seemed so small, and when he had
right before his scheduled surgery the idea of putting him through an
operation that required general anesthesia terrified me. That probably
sounds silly to many, but a surgical procedure–even one as routine as a
tonsillectomy–is just so far from anything I can control that it’s hard
for me to trust everything will be fine. But it’s done. His snoring at
night was getting scary, and when our pediatrician explained that his
snuffliness was not just from colds or allergies but from his tonsils
blocking the drainage from his sinuses, I realized it was time whether I
was comfortable with it or not.
I let Quinn choose a toy from the gift shop on an earlier visit and
told him we would pick it up the day we went in for his surgery so he
would be excited about going to the hospital. He wanted one of those
things filled with water and colored blobs that you can flip over and
watch everything bubble and drip.
There was also a playroom across the hall where we could get out toys
or even bring them back to our own room. Quinn’s favorite game when we
are at the cottage
is Battleship, but the hospital had a modern version. I have no idea
when they updated the look of Battleship, but compared to the flip open
game boards I’m used to from the 1970’s this looked really wild to me.
There’s even a “ship” that’s really a single guy “standing” on the water
which kind of cracked us up.
And as I said, Quinn is doing great. So we can both (finally) breathe easier.