Ryan

Well, the moment we've been anticipating finally happened: Ryan's surgery to have his tonsils and adenoids removed. This is supposed to stop his recurring strep throat problem (nine times this past year), and our pediatrician and two different ENTs we saw all agreed this was the way to go.


He liked this ENT doctor who would be performing his operation, Dr. Slaughter, because he had verified to Ryan he could eat as much ice cream and chocolate shakes he wanted for two weeks.

So we're in the room, Ryan on the hospital bed, and we're told he needs to take off his Team Danger t-shirt, and wear a gown with Bugs Bunny and friends on it. Problem no. 1. Ryan starts crying.

Then the anesthesiologist comes in, talks with us, and explains he will get to play a Star Wars video game and shoot at things. And when he shoots, he'll get gas that will knock him out, and then they will do the IV. Then they ask him if he wants to ride a bike into the room, or walk. He chooses to walk.

Except we are then told to go to a waiting area. Without Ryan. Problem number 2. My last image of him for forty-four minutes was of Ryan being carried off by the anesthesiologist, with his hands reached out for us, screaming, "Mama! Mama! Maaammmaaaa!"

Twenty-one minutes goes by. I attempt to read. The doctor comes to see us, says its done, and he is fine.He's in recovery, and it will be a bit longer, but then we can see him.

When we finally get to see him again, I hear him before I see him. He's crying and screaming he wants to go home. It was awful. He kept crying, "My mouth! My mouth!" and "I hate this hospital! I'm never coming back here! EVER!" "I don't like this doctor! I'm never going to the doctor AGAIN!"

They gave him some morphine to try and calm him down, but it didn't help much. They did let me get in the bed with him and hold him, but he was still so upset. He didn't like the IV at all, and he especially detested the toe clip to measure his vitals.

The nurse told us it would be better if he would sleep, that he would feel much better once he rested. It took forever trying to calm him down, but he finally did sleep.

When he woke up again, she asked him if he wanted a Popsicle. He declined, asking for ice cream (as he had been promised). Only THEN do they tell us no dairy for the first twenty-four hours. This was a serious letdown for Ryan. The ice cream was the main thing he was looking forward to out of all this.

We were there for what seemed like forever, and yet, in my mind, it wasn't nearly long enough. He is supposed to drink a lot of liquids so that he doesn't get dehydrated. He had a bit of water, and then we tried to give him some of his painkiller medicine. Which he promptly spit out. We tried again. And again. And again. He's too big to force it down his throat, and he just isn't swallowing. After about 20 minutes, he got some down, and promptly threw it up. Repeated steps 1-9, and Ryan repeated his final step of throwing up.

He takes a bit of a nap, but if we would have gotten a full dose of hydro-codeine in him, it might have been more than a bit of a nap. It was like this all afternoon. And evening.

At one point, his fever was up to 102. Our instructions were to call in with a fever above 101. Of course, the highest fever comes after 5pm, so we have to page the doctor and wait. And wait. We're given permission to give him some Tylenol for the fever. Which he also spits up. But at this point, he is just so exhausted from fighting us and the medicine that he falls asleep.

I slept with him all night, and every few minutes he would wake up, moan and whimper for a bit, and after I soothed him, he'd fall back asleep. This went on. All. Bloody. Night. Between 3:00 a.m. and 3:45 a.m., Carl and I performed another painkiller attempt, finally with a bit of a success. So we did have about ninety minutes of uninterrupted sleep.

Today hasn't been much better. Possibly worse, although his fever is mostly under 101. We were called in a prescription for Phenegren suppositories, which is supposed to keep him from throwing up his medicine. So now, before every 30 minute struggle to give him the meds, I also get to give him a suppository. If I wasn't already in hell, this sealed the deal.

I had purchased the LEGO Star Wars Plo Koon ship he most wanted, and this present was waiting for him when we came home from the hospital.



But it didn't really help much.

He did ask us to build it, and he did assemble the two new characters himself. It hasn't left his side since we built it. He even sleeps with the ship.

And he sleeps with Plo Koon and RD-7. There was a bit of hysterics about 5:15 a.m. when he realized Plo Koon's lightsaber was somewhere not on Plo Koon. Fortunately I found it with minimal sleep loss.

Grandma and Papa stopped by to visit last night, and by this afternoon, Ryan was at least feeling somewhat okay enough to play with the Iron Man car gift they brought.

And when Jeff brought balloons and a gift from Noel and Tatianna, he at least got up and came to the door. Even if he isn't exactly talking yet to say thank you.

He finally started letting us spoon some crushed ice into his mouth this afternoon in extremely small doses. He's using those old baby spoons and putting about four little pieces of crushed ice on it every ten minutes or so. Hopefully, this will be enough to keep him from getting too dehydrated. And I'm just praying it gets better soon. I don't think either of us can take too many more days like this.