Last Friday, Miss N had surgery. Having never been the mother of one undergoing such a procedure, I was, let's just say, a little apprehensive. Here we are, four days later and I can honestly say it has been less than a blip in our history... a total anti-climax.
Nearly four weeks ago, we visited an ENT surgeon who was investigating some hearing loss in Miss N, who incidentally had already shown signs of unassisted recovery during the 10 day gap between the GP visit and the referred visit to the said specialist. During the consultation, his anecdotal observations lead him to suspect, among other things, that she was suffering from sleep apnoea due to over sized tonsils and (more than likely) adenoids.
During the following 3 weeks, Miss N had shown even more improvement from the initial problem and, as far as I was concerned, was completely better... thus beckoning the validity of the impeding operation. Nevertheless, we soldiered on as planned and arrived dutifully on time to the hospital. Miss N had no idea what was going on really. In her understanding, her tonsils were "too big and the Dr was going to fix them" and the she and her mum (me) were going to have a special sleepover at the hospital. I had been a little concerned with how much information to give her... give her too much and she'll be traumatised leading up to the event; give her too little and she'll be traumatised after, having been lulled into a false sense of security... what to do, what to do... I stuck with the above information, suspecting it was enough and added in some logistical issues such as being hungry, having to wait and expecting to meet a lot of different doctors - most likely of the male variety (for some reason, the gender of medics is very important to Miss N and lets just say that those with 'y-chromosomes' are not her favourite). If this resulted in an irrational fear of anything medical and hospital related, I would deal with it later.
Everything was going along swimmingly. She had barley mentioned food and
was quite happy waiting on her "special" bed. It took me by surprise that it was the gown that would be the undoing of her composure. No attempts on my behalf to convince her of the "beauty" or "princess-like qualities" of "the pretty blue dress" were going to get this gown on and it resulted in brute force, a lot of tears and finally a complete breakdown with her begging me to take her home... oh dear... What distracted her was the arrival of the orderly to take her to theatre and while this was sufficient distraction for her to compose herself, I was beginning to feel myself unravel... great timing... She sat silently as we made our way to the theatre.
The next few minutes happened rather swiftly and apparently routinely. I held her while she fell asleep with gas. I transferred her to the table and exited. She was in their hands. To my surprise, I held it together... I even ate some lunch while I waited.
She came back to t
he ward in less than an hour, out of anaesthetic but still suffering the effects of it. This was probably the most difficult time for the both of us and I braced myself for the next 4-5 days of this... a distraugh
t, tucked up little sicky suffering weight loss due to fear of using required anatomy for eating. Alas, after about 2 hours of dozing, Miss N woke up and asked for food. I offered her the mandatory post-tonsillectomy foods: jelly and ice cream. She took the jelly but didn't want the ice cream... she spotted the bag of Twisties in my handbag and demanded those. When they were devoured, she asked for a sandwich... and so it continued. They won't discharge patients until they've eaten... based on this rule, Miss N could've left then and there! Precaution prevailed and we bunkered down for the night. Miss N slept like a log... the only one of the 6 occupying the room that night.
She met her discharge conditions once again at breakfast, scoffing her full sized portion of porridge, English muffin, yoghurt, and juice. Once that was finished, she managed to get the nurses to make her 2 more slices of toast with Vegemite (it ought to be noted that Nadia is not the greatest breakfast eater at the best of times). All of this happened around frequent visits to the playroom and other walking expeditions through the ward... she was wired!
I thought I'd best not base too much of her recovery on this demonstration, thinking that maybe she'd "crash" on day 2. Once on day 2, I still held out that she might be a 'day 3' kinda girl... it's now day 5 and she is as full of beans as ever. Aside from her initial general anaesthetic recovery she has not stopped or even slowed down. Not once... I kind of had her recovery time pinned as my recovery time but not to be... I am very grateful for her speedy, uneventful healing... What can I say? She's a trooper.
Nearly four weeks ago, we visited an ENT surgeon who was investigating some hearing loss in Miss N, who incidentally had already shown signs of unassisted recovery during the 10 day gap between the GP visit and the referred visit to the said specialist. During the consultation, his anecdotal observations lead him to suspect, among other things, that she was suffering from sleep apnoea due to over sized tonsils and (more than likely) adenoids.
During the following 3 weeks, Miss N had shown even more improvement from the initial problem and, as far as I was concerned, was completely better... thus beckoning the validity of the impeding operation. Nevertheless, we soldiered on as planned and arrived dutifully on time to the hospital. Miss N had no idea what was going on really. In her understanding, her tonsils were "too big and the Dr was going to fix them" and the she and her mum (me) were going to have a special sleepover at the hospital. I had been a little concerned with how much information to give her... give her too much and she'll be traumatised leading up to the event; give her too little and she'll be traumatised after, having been lulled into a false sense of security... what to do, what to do... I stuck with the above information, suspecting it was enough and added in some logistical issues such as being hungry, having to wait and expecting to meet a lot of different doctors - most likely of the male variety (for some reason, the gender of medics is very important to Miss N and lets just say that those with 'y-chromosomes' are not her favourite). If this resulted in an irrational fear of anything medical and hospital related, I would deal with it later.
Everything was going along swimmingly. She had barley mentioned food and
was quite happy waiting on her "special" bed. It took me by surprise that it was the gown that would be the undoing of her composure. No attempts on my behalf to convince her of the "beauty" or "princess-like qualities" of "the pretty blue dress" were going to get this gown on and it resulted in brute force, a lot of tears and finally a complete breakdown with her begging me to take her home... oh dear... What distracted her was the arrival of the orderly to take her to theatre and while this was sufficient distraction for her to compose herself, I was beginning to feel myself unravel... great timing... She sat silently as we made our way to the theatre.The next few minutes happened rather swiftly and apparently routinely. I held her while she fell asleep with gas. I transferred her to the table and exited. She was in their hands. To my surprise, I held it together... I even ate some lunch while I waited.
She came back to t
he ward in less than an hour, out of anaesthetic but still suffering the effects of it. This was probably the most difficult time for the both of us and I braced myself for the next 4-5 days of this... a distraugh
t, tucked up little sicky suffering weight loss due to fear of using required anatomy for eating. Alas, after about 2 hours of dozing, Miss N woke up and asked for food. I offered her the mandatory post-tonsillectomy foods: jelly and ice cream. She took the jelly but didn't want the ice cream... she spotted the bag of Twisties in my handbag and demanded those. When they were devoured, she asked for a sandwich... and so it continued. They won't discharge patients until they've eaten... based on this rule, Miss N could've left then and there! Precaution prevailed and we bunkered down for the night. Miss N slept like a log... the only one of the 6 occupying the room that night.She met her discharge conditions once again at breakfast, scoffing her full sized portion of porridge, English muffin, yoghurt, and juice. Once that was finished, she managed to get the nurses to make her 2 more slices of toast with Vegemite (it ought to be noted that Nadia is not the greatest breakfast eater at the best of times). All of this happened around frequent visits to the playroom and other walking expeditions through the ward... she was wired!
I thought I'd best not base too much of her recovery on this demonstration, thinking that maybe she'd "crash" on day 2. Once on day 2, I still held out that she might be a 'day 3' kinda girl... it's now day 5 and she is as full of beans as ever. Aside from her initial general anaesthetic recovery she has not stopped or even slowed down. Not once... I kind of had her recovery time pinned as my recovery time but not to be... I am very grateful for her speedy, uneventful healing... What can I say? She's a trooper.
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