| On Monday Mason had the biggest day of his life. He had surgery to remove his oversized adenoids and tonsils which had been the cause of a chronic stuffy nose and many sinus infections and lingering nasal problems. This was not something we entered into lightly. Over the past year and a half we have tried many, many alternatives to clear up his problems: different allergy meds, steroids, and decongestants. In addition, Mason had a CT scan in the spring which revealed that ALL of his sinuses were completely filled with fluid and he ended up on three different antibiotics for almost two months to try to get rid of his problem, all to no avail. His adenoids were much too large to allow his sinuses to drain, among other things. So, on August 3 he went in for surgery. 
He was so, so excited. No nerves, no fear, just innocent excitement about his surgery. Later, I wished that we had been a little bit more frank with him about just what the surgery would entail. But here he is, sitting with his daddy, smiling and waiting his turn. 
He got hooked up to the leads that would monitor his heart and breathing. 
And then he waited some more, hands completely steady, no nerves at all. 
I, on the other hand, had been a bundle of nerves leading up to this day. But thankfully after much prayer, that early morning I had peace about what was going to happen, peace that my baby boy would be well taken care of, peace that he was in the best Hands he could be in. 
And so, we sent him off with hugs and kisses and I love you's. And he smiled and waved... 
...like a little lamb being led to the slaughter. Of course, I didn't have that thought right then. No, that thought only came later, when I listened to him scream a scream I hope to never hear again while recalling his happy, smiling face that morning. He went into his surgery so excited and happy and he came out a terrified, wild-eyed little boy in severe pain. It. was. awful. Josh and I played tic-tac-toe on his iPhone while we waited for his ENT doc to visit with us after the surgery. He finally came in and said that Mason had done well, that his tonsils were large and his adenoids were huge, all needing to come out, that the surgery was a success and that Mason was "not very happy." A few minutes later we heard a primal screaming in the hall and I briefly thought to myself, "Wow, I'm so glad that's not my child. How awful." And then the screaming started coming into our room. Josh and I were on our feet in an instant, trying to calm the kicking, hitting, screaming, terror-stricken boy who was supposed to be our son but who I hardly recognized. I have never, ever, ever seen him like that. He cried out for me in a babyish way, asking for mama, and I was right in his face saying, "I'm here, Mason. Mama's right here." And he looked at me with the widest eyes and did not see me at all. It was terrifying. He continued to scream and kick, completely out of control. The nurses later said it was a reaction to the anesthesia, something called post-anesthetic dementia. Normal, but not common. It took us a good five minutes to get him calm, though it seemed like an hour or more. And once he finally calmed he was still not himself and he cried out in pain and confusion often. He drifted in and out of sleep for almost two hours and seemed most calm when we were very near so Josh and I took turns laying with him in his bed. 
Finally, about ten minutes before we were going to be allowed to go home, he opened his eyes and was suddenly Mason again, still in some pain but thankfully, himself. He was excited to ride in a wheelchair out to the car, carrying a popsicle in a styrofoam cup. 
His face was swollen because of the surgery and bright red (a side-effect of the anesthesia). We took him home and encouraged him to drink and eat and he spent most of the day sleeping off the anesthesia. When he wasn't sleeping he was crying. And so was I. I was not at all prepared for how hard that first day was. Everyone I had talked to said the first and second day were fairly easy, their child seemed pretty much normal, and that the third and fourth days were the hardest. And I fully expected it to be much the same for us. But it wasn't. At the end of that first day I was not at all sure that it had been worth it, that this surgery had been a good idea. I didn't know if, given the chance, I would go back and do it all again. And now, five days into recovery, I'm still not sure if the surgery was a good idea. Honestly, I won't know that until Mason is completely healed and we start seeing the results of no longer having gigantic adenoids. But now I am certainly hopeful that it will have been worth it. After that first day things have gotten so much better. Mason has eaten well and been keeping up with fluids, playing quietly (and not-so-quietly) and fighting with his sisters. He still has moments of pain, usually at night after breathing through his mouth and getting very dry, but he is relatively normal during the day. I can actually see the light at the end of the tunnel and I am so, so hopeful for a real improvement in Mason's health. And I hope we never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever have to do something like this again. Ever. |
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