Not heart surgery, chas v'shalom. Nothing huge and scary. Just. Tonsils.
I took Iyyar for his preop physical on Friday, and asked if the results of the sleep study were in the computer. They were, and holy cow. One of his apnea episodes was so bad that his oxygen saturations dropped into the 70s. I kind of thought that if your sats were in the 70s they'd call an ambulance but my pediatrician didn't seem worried. "He really needs his tonsils out." But they wouldn't have just sent him home if they thought he wouldn't wake up the next morning, right? Right?
When Barak had his adenoids out, almost exactly two years ago, I was worried in advance but recognized that the fear [that he would die] wasn't really rational. I was worried because I was his mother, not because there was anything that wasn't totally routine about an adenoidectomy and ear tubes. With Iyyar, they're treating him as high-risk, which, I have been assured, is a Good Thing; the problems come when the high-risk kids are not identified as such. They know he tends to stop breathing (she says calmly) and are prepared to deal with such eventualities. (Me to pediatrician on Friday: "What would they do if he did stop breathing?" Her, with a casual shrug, "Bag him, put a tube down his throat. Get him breathing again." I managed not to actually faint.) He is not having his tonsils out at the local hospital where Barak had his ear tubes; instead we are going to the less local but still fairly nearby children's hospital, which has an excellent reputation and is one of the best children's hospitals in the country. Not only that, but Ada works there (though she won't be there when we are). We've been there before and have been impressed. They know what they're doing.
I know I shouldn't be this worried, and that IY"H he'll probably be just fine, and we'll be there for a couple of days or maybe three for them to keep an eye on his breathing and then he'll be miserable for a few days at home. There will be a lot of tears and ice cream and Sesame Street and then he'll be happier and he'll sleep better and this will all be behind us. And in a way I wish we could just fast forward, not even to next week, but just to Wednesday morning, just to have the waiting over with. Good thing it's Purim tonight, right?
Just tonsils. It's just tonsils.
3 comments:
Yes: just tonsils. (Although between you and me, I'd be just as scared in your shoes.) May it all go just fine!
You have every right to be worried, you're a mother. (Better to be worried now than to have to deal with any C"v'sh type results after! this way, you're yotzei.)
Of course you're worried: it's your child, and cutting is involved. But I do find it reassuring that they are treating it like things might go really badly and preparing for that. Like my mom would say, "better to have it and not need it than the other way around," right?
By the time I'm posting this, the surgery is probably over or close to it, so in a way it's empty reassurances, but still I want you to know that you are absolutely right on all counts. It *is* only tonsils. It *is* the right decision to take them out, risks and all. It *is* a good thing for them to be prepared for the worst, and for him to go to the "good" hospital. He *will* be miserable for a while, and then it *will* be past and eventually almost forgotten.
Hugs anyway.
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