So on Monday, after repeated episodes of tonsillitis, Thomas had finally been scheduled in to have the offending tissue sliced out...(this is after -sometimes almost weekly- doctors appointments, gallons of precious antibiotics, dozens of duvet days, painful periods refusing to eat and too-frequent amounts of time off from pre-school, followed by specialist appointments, consultant appointments, follow up appointments, pre-op appointments and eventually -the official decree that maybe it was in his best interest)...
Put it this way - to get the go ahead to perform a tonsillectomy is not a decision that is taken lightly in this day and age...
The weekend before the fateful Monday we made sure Thomas had a -super- good time, eating and drinking (pretty much) what he wanted (including a McDonalds cheeseburger happy meal with Fanta - *gasp*), going out on a few fun trips -
- including (first ever trip out to the movies!) Disney's Planes in 3D (which shouldn't be mistaken for a Pixar film (it's not in the same league) but Thomas totally loved - which was the point of the exercise) and making sure to fill him up on Sunday night with his favourite food - a hearty home-made roast chicken dinner with all the trimmings to help him get through the pre-operative fast to come with minimum discomfort...
Monday morning we were up at the crack of dawn (well, about 6am) to give Thomas his last drink of water before the operation and to pack up all the electronic entertainment bits (DVD player, Kindle, Innotab and Nexus 7 plus associated chargers - it could be a long wait!) and handed baby-sitting duty for Poppy over to our kind neighbours (until my folks arrived to take over - thank you everyone!)...and then we headed over to the hospital (only 5 minutes away) and up to Outwood ward...
We were second to arrive and Thomas was told by the lovely nurse who greeted us that he could choose whichever bed he would like (which was great), he ran straight in and grabbed the bed next to the window opposite the entrance and made himself right at home (quickly finding the controls that moved the bed all over the place - to great delight)...fairly quickly the nurse came in with an instrument trolley needing to get a pulse, O2 and temperature check (which he sat perfectly still for), we then had to answer a list of questions - "Any wobbly teeth?", "Any allergies?", "Is he diabetic?", "Has he had a general anaesthetic before?", etc.) and then were told we had a bit of a wait ahead for the surgeons to come and see us.
Thomas used this time productively - first finding a huge box of Lego and building an incredibly detailed "Water Maze - with *TRAPS* that squirt you, Daddy!"-
- then a kind lady (apparently appointed by the hospital purely to help the kids enjoy themselves) paid a visit and (quite unbelievably) suggested Thomas might like to do some painting - in bed - which (of course) he agreed to wholeheartedly (Flyingpops and myself exchanging "Urm, do-they-know-what-they-are-letting-themselves-in-for?"-type looks) - before long he was wearing waterproofs, merrily slapping too much paint all over page after page of A4 (and into his hair, and onto the sheets, and onto the table) - while we were trying to carefully transfer sopping, dripping bits of rainbow coloured paper to the windowsill without causing too much additional mess and attempting vainly to suggest he switch to a smaller brush)...oh and at some stage in the middle of all this, Thomas decided that (as long as he was going to be required to lay in bed) he may as well be wearing his pyjamas...fair enough!
The doctors arrived (almost before we knew it), asked *exactly* the same stream of questions as the nurse before them, asked us if we had any questions for them (bit late for that now, I thought), asked me to sign the bright yellow-"Yes, it's okay to slice up my child" waiver sheet, smiled encouragingly, told Thomas he was being very good (and that they liked his pyjamas) and left...Next up was the anaesthetist, who asked us all the same questions *again*, told us he was happy for both of us to come and watch Thomas being drugged, told Thomas he was being very good (and that he liked his pyjamas) and then also left. Lastly, the nurse came back, checked Thomas' O2 and pulse rate again, told Thomas she liked his pyjamas and told us we were second in the queue for Theatre (cue - "No-it's not that kind of Theatre, Thomas" - conversation)...
We waited, painted, drew, played a bit of Tiny Thief (Thomas cackling at his skill stealing some butterflies all by himself) and the new Cbeebies Android game (which is amazingly good) and then the nurse appeared to lead us (on foot) around to surgery...so far so good...
When we were called through to the anaesthetist, Thomas took the trip on his surgical bed...the crowded, tiny room was crammed with equipment and cables, just barely big enough for the bed (and all the adults involved in the process), we were asked to chat to Thomas briefly while they managed to slip the cannula into his hand totally without him noticing (which I know from experience would have taken an incredible amount of skill - so thank you to the anaesthetist for that! He actually gazed at it in astonishment when he got his hand back) and then they put a little see-through sticker over the top to hold it in place (with a couple of teddy bear pictures on it)...a little flush with some saline and then a *huge* syringe of white goo was being pushed into his arm, the anaesthetist talking quietly to him about "sleepy cow milk making him drowsy" and in a -heartbeat- he was fast asleep, just twitching a couple of times before total unconsciousness...not even enough time for us to say "Sleep tight"...we weren't prepared for that...
It was just under two hours later that we were being called to the recovery suite to find Thomas curled up asleep, clutching his Steiff and Chick, a tiny Oxygen mask tucked over his nose and his cannula bandaged up - matching bandages, as we only noticed a little later on, having appeared during surgery both on Steiff's wrist and ear and on Chick's wing (a *very* nice touch)... ;)
When we rolled back into Outwood ward lots of nervous parents looked up and (judging by the looks on their faces) took comfort from how content Thomas looked...he was only allowed about ten minutes sleep though, before we were being told to wake him up and make sure he was able to take a drink of water okay (poor little thing - but he must have been terribly dehydrated by that point)...he came round, very floppy and heavy limbed...we managed to get some water into him okay (I had to physically hoist him up and hold him upright) and one of the doctors came and managed to get him to mutter "yes" in answer to "Are you feeling okay Thomas?"...twenty minutes later he was running up and down the ward, glugging blackcurrant squash and eating biscuits, asking the nurses for jelly and ice cream and fighting other kids for toys...
It was, quite simply, a redefinition of the phrase "he took it in his stride"...
We were allowed to leave right on (estimated departure) time (once he had satisfactorily demonstrated to the staff that he could eat, drink and go to the toilet) which annoyingly fell in the middle of him enjoying a nice macaroni cheese dinner with (further) strawberry ice cream desert (which predictably he didn't want to leave behind)...
The only complaint of the *day* from Thomas...? About half past seven at night, chewing on some cold cuts - "Daddy, the thing is...my throat hurts a bit eating...that's the problem with this chicken leg"...we gave him a dose of paracetamol (he's up to 4 year old dose size now, which is *twice* his 3 year old amount) and popped him into bed (for the night after his operation - a snug camp with loads of cushions, on the floor in Mummy and Daddies room)...and he didn't wake up once... ;)
No comments:
Post a Comment