It was Hell. The week (plus) of recovery that was supposed to be “a few days”.
I wish that was an exaggeration, but as far as common procedures go, tubes and adenoids tops the list. For Addie, there was the consideration of her spinal compression, so we stayed one night for observation where she turned up roses. The kid was a peach.
Then Wednesday struck.
Let’s start with admission…
She was great! We played and I wore a hairnet over my hat and looked really cool. (I was annoyed by one of the nurses who kept reading her name as “Adeline”- not a great way to instill confidence in a parent- but other than that it was OK.
I wrote about the surgery before… it was fine. A-OK. And then we made it to recovery… where she was upset and groggy and didn’t really want to come out of it until we’d been wheeled to her room for our stay.
This made for a late night- so it was nice that Dave came to the hospital and stayed with us until after midnight when she finally nodded off. We’d all eaten some Boston Market (my pregnancy fave!) and watched some movies and I was feeling relieved that, besides some pain, Addie seemed to be bouncing back quickly!
The next morning was still uneventful as a few of our doctors were at the hospital that morning- the pediatrician, neurosurgeon and ENT- we got a few visitors and I grabbed myself a coffee from the cart before being handed discharge papers, a bottle of ear drops and heading towards the elevators. Good-bye 5th floor!
Addie still seemed great, if a bit groggy, but I expected nothing less, so we headed home. After her bath she asked to sleep, so I tucked her in bed next to me and while I worked on the laptop, she napped. It was a loud nap- her snoring was rattling my brain and she cried in her slumber. When she woke up I offered her something to eat to no avail and gave her some Motrin, as per doctor’s orders. The night got progressively lethargic as she didn’t eat much dinner and was fussy to sleep.
It was well after midnight and I’d just finished working for the night when I saw her pop up on the monitor. She shot straight up and started to cry. Something is wrong, I felt it in my bones. I ran in, Dave and I practically knocking each other over to get to her and as he shut off her air conditioning, I brought her into our room. I could feel her warmth, and as I made a request for the thermometer I felt the hot, wet slip down my back. Sweet potatoes. The ones I’d made for dinner. They’d reappeared for us onto the bed, so I stripped us both and went to wash up while Dave helped and switched the bedding.
I called the emergency line for the ENT. The doctor told me to keep her hydrated and medicated to keep the fever down and call in the morning. The fever didn’t break for days. Food was nothing Addie desired- not even popsicles or pudding. I could see her ribs. And she cried through every night, even with the ibuprofen and acetaminophen regimen we had. I felt lost. When she finally was feeling better enough to get out of bed, I saw that her head was tilted slightly forward and she wouldn’t move it up. We went for a trip out of the house- the first in days- and she’d found a way to maneuver herself so that her head wouldn’t move. While I was impressed with her resourcefulness, I was scared, too. Why was her fever still there, and the crying in her sleep and now she wouldn’t move her head…?
We went to the pediatrician. We called the ENT. We conferred with the end result exactly as I’d thought: Addie was having an extremely rare, albeit not unknown reaction to adenoid removal.
But now we are here. With the help of serious antibiotics, a lot of time in bed, and fluids, and after 11 days, Addie was on the mend and closer to being herself! I am thankful for recovery… and life lessons. Many times I thought I knew what an outcome would be, and many times I’ve been wrong. In this case, I knew that Addie would be OK, I just expected it quicker. She’s my warrior and I realize that the time it took for her to heal is that what makes her so- it’s the fact that she did it with such courage. While I felt a breaking inside, she never did. Every time I asked her if she was OK, she would take my face between her hands and kiss me. She never answered. I don’t think she wanted to tell me, “no,” no matter how bad it hurt.
How could I not be thankful for this blessing… A child who looks out for her mother.
As we embark on this week with an MRI and the final decision as to whether Addie will have spinal decompression surgery, I open my mind to being stronger and more supportive of whatever is thrown at me- because this isn’t about me, this is about Addie and she deserves that much in a mom.
Your love and prayers are, as always, appreciated.
Have a beautiful week, Reader.