Be Prepared To Cry

     Josh went in for surgery this morning.  He needed to have his tonsils and adenoids removed, as well as a turbinate reduction (basically a liposuction of the tissue in his nasal passages because they were so swollen and inflamed from years of sinus infections).  This all seemed to happen very fast to me.  One day, we were checking for allergies, the next we were putting him under the knife.  But when Nicki went in for surgery last week, we did some checking into our insurance and decided that it made better financial sense to get him in before the end of the year. 
     I tried to prepare Josh for what was coming.  Nicki helped quite a bit by explaining every detail of her visit, accentuating the good parts like the free teddy bear, the cartoons on you own personal TV, and the bed that moves up and down.  We also went shopping for popsicles, pudding, and other soft foods the day before.  That was fun.  He was excited about those parts, but pretty nervous about the pain.  When I woke him up this morning to get ready, he said, "I don't want to go to the hospital.  I'm not hurt."  I explained that he wasn't going for a broken arm.  He was going because he was sick and he needed to get the sick stuff out.  He said, "Okay, Mom, but not now.  The hospital's closed."  I told him the hospital never closes and he said, "Let's pretend our house is the hospital."  Cute boy. 

New teddy bear!

The nurse is taking the lidocane cream off his hands.

     Josh did really well for the first while.  He loved the teddy bear and the moving bed and the cartoons.  He didn't even flinch when the IV went in.  He did cry after, though, but that's because something went awry and the nurse had to keep pulling the tubing out and flushing fluid through them and stuff.  It was pretty horrible, and he was so brave that the nurse gave him a second teddy bear for his efforts.  After that, he just watched TV quietly until it was time to go.  He wouldn't talk to anyone or even make eye contact with them.  Who can blame him, though?  A few minutes before they wheeled him away, they put a medicine in his IV that made him drowsy and relaxed.  It's funny to me to see how differently each of my three children who have been in surgery reacted to the same medicine.  Ali chattered away non-stop about strange fairy tale creatures and the like.  Nicki went dead silent and moved in slow motion.  Josh looked sleepy, but he seemed practically normal in every other way.  He was even able to keep talking to Dora the Explorer on TV and catch me up on the plot when I wasn't paying attention.  Anyway, at about 8:00 am, the doctor came in to answer all my questions and by 8:15, Josh was being wheeled away.

Relaxed and sleepy.

     Much like the week before, I studied my scriptures, read a book, and talked to David on the phone (by the way, David really wanted to be there.  He took the day off and he wanted to be the one who took Josh in, but I couldn't stand the idea of waiting at home.  He was very kind to let me go while he stayed home with Bronson.).  It took nearly an hour before the doctor came back to report how things went.  He said Josh did very well.  He had large tonsils and adenoids, not leaving much room to breathe.  They really needed to come out.  The turbinate reduction was successful and he hoped that it would make a big difference.  He gave me my instructions for the next week or two, explaining that it was going to be rough.  Josh would be in a lot of pain and because of the turbinate reduction. He would bleed from the nose for a couple of days, then he would be packed full of scabs and clots for another week or so.  I am supposed to bring him back to the doctor on the 22nd so he can flush out his nasal passages.  (shiver)
     A few minutes after the doctor left, the nurse came in and told me I could go back to see Josh in recovery.  I could hear his sleepy, moaning cry down the hall, but I had to ask if it was his because it didn't sound like him.  I wasn't prepared for the way he looked, and I started crying as soon as I saw him.  He was curled up in a ball on the hospital bed, his whole face covered in blood, his eyes closed and puffy, quietly crying, "Mom. Mom."  When I held his hand and talked to him, he opened his eyes slightly then closed them again and resumed crying, only this time he said, "Home.  Home."  We wheeled him back to the room and I got in bed with him.  For several minutes, he cried and slept in my arms in about 30 second intervals.  He kept asking to go home.  After a while, the meds kicked in or something because he settled down a little bit.  He ate a couple of popsicles and drank quite a bit of juice, but he ended up throwing it all up right as we were leaving.  I was told that he swallowed a little bit of blood in recovery, so they expected him to do that.

Coming out of it in my arms.

Doing a little better

This moustache strap holds the gauze in place to catch the drip.

     I wonder if they expected him to throw up seven more times before the night was out. He threw up all over the car on the way home. That was rough because I couldn't pull over right away. Eventually we made it home where David had a bed set up for Josh on the couch. He's so miserable. He tries to sleep, but wakes up a few minutes later because of nausea. He's dripping blood and in a lot of pain. He's hungry but can't keep anything down. I wonder if it's the codeine in his pain meds, but he's been on codeine before without a problem, and his vomit is always dark brown from blood.  I think he's just dripping blood into his throat and swallowing it. 
     A couple of sweet moments:  When the girls came home, they were totally shocked at all the blood on his face.  They wanted to hear all about it.  I started to tell the story, but Josh interrupted me.  He said, "Let me tell them, Mom."  I said, "Okay," Here's the story according to Josh:  "Well, I went to the hospital and the doctor came in and he let me take home my food (the blue Jell-O he didn't finish) and I woke up and I got a teddy bear and there were buttons on my bed and then I threw up."  The other cute moment was when he said his prayers before bed.  I let him lay down in bed and just say his prayer there.  I expected him to have a sad, please-help-me-feel-better prayer, but instead, he had a long, grateful prayer.  He thanked Heavenly Father for each one of us and each one of his stuffed animals and his pillow and the prophet and many other things.  As I listened to him, I thought about how different my prayers would sound if I were in a similar situation.  For about the fifth time today, I started crying.