What To Expect From Toddler Tonsillectomy Recovery

My almost 3 year old recently had surgery to remove his adenoids and tonsils.  If you are a regular reader of this blog, you’d know that this was medically necessary because of his sleep apnea diagnosis. 
The surgery was fine.  We were nervous, but prayed that all would go well.  It did, thank goodness.  The surgeon was amazing so was our time spent at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles.  
So here comes the BUT… you knew it was coming, right?  The recovery was tough, very tough. In fact, I wish I would have known more about what to expect BEFORE we agreed to the procedure.  
1) YOUR CHILD COULD FLIP OUT FROM THE ANESTHESIA 

When I write “flip out” I mean “flip out”.  Some kids (i.e.: my kid) can’t handle coming out of anesthesia.  All hell broke loose the moment he woke up after surgery. He was beyond agitated.  He was yelling for “mommy”, but he couldn’t grasp that I was right there next to him. The nurses thought it might help if I held him.  As they were transferring him to me, he pulled out his I.V. (blood started squirting everywhere, for the record, blood is warm).  The nurses kept him in my arms as they rehooked the IV into his arm. Then, the nurses gave him not one, but two doses of morphine. It didn’t calm him.  They then paged the anesthesiologist who showed up a few minutes later with a vile of Propofol.  Sound familiar?  That’s the medicine (i.e.: “Milk”)  that Michael Jackson used to help him sleep.  As she injected the drug into his IV, the good doctor told me “Don’t worry mom, he’s going fall asleep, just hold onto him.”  Within 20 seconds he went limp on my arms and they instructed me to help put him back on the recovery bed.  Finally, he was at rest.  But it wasn’t easy to watch.  We stayed there from 9am until almost 6pm.  It was a long recovery post surgery.  It was a trigger of things to come.

2) RECOVERY CAN TAKE WEEKS
When we decided on the surgery, my child’s ENT doctor assured us that, while each child is different, his recovery from the surgery wouldn’t take more than a few days.  He lied.  Well… okay, perhaps he didn’t lie, but he didn’t tell us how rough it would be.  My boy really didn’t start feeling well until day 11 days post surgery.  And he wasn’t himself until almost three weeks after surgery.  It wouldn’t have been so bad, except he was in a lot of pain and refused to take his pain medication regularly. That brings me to number three:

3) YOUR CHILD COULD FIGHT/REJECT PAIN MEDICATION

You might be thinking, “please, that’s not a big deal, just force it down them”.  Uhm, good luck with that.  Apparently the liquid codeine that hospital sends you home with actually stings the back of the throat.  My boy would have nothing to do with it.  He’s still a bit too young to reason with, so my husband and I had to plan surprise attacks to try and get him to swallow the medication.  Normally, we would get him to take  1/2 of his recommended dose.  This was the hardest part of the recovery for us and for my child.  It was painful to watch him in so much pain.  

4) THE POPSICLE/ICE CREAM MYTH 

The first hours post surgery my kid had a few popsicles.  Then the pain set in and he wanted NOTHING.  In fact, it was a challenge to get him to drink and/or eat for the first week.  We did what we could and my kid rejected the freezer full of treats that I had bought before we took him to the hospital.   He lost about 8 pounds during his recovery (he’s a big kid so the doctors weren’t worried). We were told it was important to make sure he drank enough fluids and not to worry about him eating solids.  It took sometime to get him to do both.  And sadly, popsicles/ice cream were not part of his recovery.
5) YOUR CHILD WILL HAVE GNARLY BREATH
Notice I didn’t say “could” have gnarly breath.  They WILL have the most foul smelling mouth you have ever witnessed, worse than your pets, worse than your husband’s after a long night of drinking.  And you can’t do a dang thing about it until they allow you to start brushing their teeth.  In my son’s case, that was probably around day 11 post surgery.  In the scheme of things, this is a minor issue, but you should know about it none-the-less.

FINAL THOUGHTS

If you are a working parent, plan on taking at least 10 days off to help your child recover.  Fortunately, I was between jobs and was able to stay home the entire time. 

Lastly and most importantly, the surgery was a smashing success.  He’s sleeping through the night and has never felt or looked better.  So in the end, all the pain, the suffering, and the unknown was completely worth it.

WHAT IS GRACE?

The official explanation from the dictionary:

Noun: Simple elegance or refinement of movement.

Verb: Do honor or credit to (someone or something) by one’s presence

For others Grace is spiritual, completely intertwined with their God. But for me, at this very moment, Grace embodies two very special ladies in my life. Two women who are courageously battling cancer: One breast, the other lung. Both are equally challenging, both are equally frustrating and both are equally unfair.

I’m watching one fight from afar, mostly through dispatches from my mother. We have already watched her take on and seemingly beat breast cancer a few years ago. But this past week, the beast returned with a vengeance. She’s determined to fight again, currently summoning the will and strength to push the monster away, to quell the storm that is raging inside her. I’m praying from afar.

The other warrior I see often, or as often as I can. My last visit was just yesterday. She looked beautifully frail. We talked for hours, just she and I in her living room. I mostly spoke, she listened intently, asking questions about my family, my job and my happiness. I could tell the conversation was exhausting her, so I suggested she rest. But she pressed me to keep going and so I did. It was the least that I could do because she has done so much for me, so much for my family.

When I left her home to make the 40 minute drive back to mine, a song came on the radio. A song that I’ve heard a million times, a song that I know by heart. But this time, for the first time, I fully understood the lyrics. And it hit me so profoundly: I really don’t know life at all.

MY GARAGE SALE SCORE

About a month ago, I made a big score at a garage sale. A family was getting rid of this dining set for $50. But it didn’t always look likes this.

The “before” pictures- I spent the last four weekends sanding, stripping and staining the benches and table.

I finished the biggest of the benches this morning. The stain came out a little bit darker than the others, but overall, I really like the finished product.

Perhaps the best part: The benches have storage! This is a big bonus for my family because our small bungalow lacks closet/storage space.

Roses I bought two weeks ago from our local “Trader Joes”.

A wide shot of our dining/living area. You can see just how tiny our craftsman home really is. The new dining set fits perfectly in the small space.


                WHEN YOUR CHILD WON’T OUTGROW SLEEP PROBLEMS
I think about it all day long; I want it all day long and night; And I’d do just about anything to get more of it. Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m referring to my now insatiable obsession with sleep.
I know the day it started: rewind 2 years 8 months 7 days ago— the day my second son was born. Since then we’ve experienced nearly 2,000 joyful days, but also suffered through nearly 2,000 sleepless nights. No, I’m not exaggerating. Our boy hasn’t slept through the night his entire young life.
During each of his pediatric checkups, I’d bring it up with his doctor. No, more like I’d plead my case with the good doctor: something surely must be wrong with kid because our first born slept through the night at 8 weeks (yes, we were lucky with him). The usual response from his pediatrician, “no two babies are alike” and “he’ll out grow it”.
Shortly after he turned two, my gut told me that something was wrong with him medically. I knew my kid. And there had to be a reason why he was be waking (on average) three times a night.  I didn’t act on that feeling then, but I should have.
My “mommy intuition” went into overdrive during a recent family vacation to San Diego. For the first time since he was an infant, we slept together. I wouldn’t call it sleep, but rather it turned into two nights of me watching my boy struggle to get some rest. He tossed and turned all night long. He snored loudly, as well as broke out into night sweats. But what concerned me the most was the fact that he appeared to have episodes of not breathing, followed by gasps for breath. This was not right.
After we returned home, I made another appointment with our pediatrician to demand that she take a closer look at him. She listened as I rehashed the vacation sleepover. She too agreed this didn’t appear right. Plus, she also said he appeared to be a classic “mouth breather”. We finally got our referral to a specialist.
The specialist was amazing. By the end of our visit, he diagnosed our child with possible “Obstructive Sleep Apnea”. Yes, my boy apparently suffers from what I wrongly assumed only plagues older, overweight people.
According to the experts, obstructive apnea affects roughly 2 percent of kids under the age of 6. I also learned that sleep disorders have serious consequences. My kid could be at a greater risk of obesity and diabetes, as well as attention deficit disorders. The most common culprit of childhood apnea is enlarged adenoids and tonsils. The most common cure is surgery.
Part of the diagnosis includes an overnight sleep study. To my surprise this also includes toddlers. A few weeks ago, my son had his sleep study performed at a clinic in Glendale. It started off promising, my child actually allowed the sleep tech to attach all the sensors to his body. But, after a few hours, my boy decided that the sensors interfered with his tossing and turning, so he pulled most of them off his body. The tech tried replying them once. He pulled them off again. Game over.
As for our journey, we are now waiting to see what’s next in the diagnosis to treatment phase. Depending on the study results, the doctor will either remove just his adenoids, or perhaps both the adenoids and tonsils.
Bottom line, I can only hope it leads to a better night sleep for us all, especially for my son, who really doesn’t know what he’s missing.
 

                WHEN YOUR CHILD WON’T OUTGROW SLEEP PROBLEMS

I think about it all day long; I want it all day long and night; And I’d do just about anything to get more of it. Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m referring to my now insatiable obsession with sleep.

I know the day it started: rewind 2 years 8 months 7 days ago— the day my second son was born. Since then we’ve experienced nearly 2,000 joyful days, but also suffered through nearly 2,000 sleepless nights. No, I’m not exaggerating. Our boy hasn’t slept through the night his entire young life.

During each of his pediatric checkups, I’d bring it up with his doctor. No, more like I’d plead my case with the good doctor: something surely must be wrong with kid because our first born slept through the night at 8 weeks (yes, we were lucky with him). The usual response from his pediatrician, “no two babies are alike” and “he’ll out grow it”.

Shortly after he turned two, my gut told me that something was wrong with him medically. I knew my kid. And there had to be a reason why he was be waking (on average) three times a night.  I didn’t act on that feeling then, but I should have.

My “mommy intuition” went into overdrive during a recent family vacation to San Diego. For the first time since he was an infant, we slept together. I wouldn’t call it sleep, but rather it turned into two nights of me watching my boy struggle to get some rest. He tossed and turned all night long. He snored loudly, as well as broke out into night sweats. But what concerned me the most was the fact that he appeared to have episodes of not breathing, followed by gasps for breath. This was not right.

After we returned home, I made another appointment with our pediatrician to demand that she take a closer look at him. She listened as I rehashed the vacation sleepover. She too agreed this didn’t appear right. Plus, she also said he appeared to be a classic “mouth breather”. We finally got our referral to a specialist.

The specialist was amazing. By the end of our visit, he diagnosed our child with possible “Obstructive Sleep Apnea”. Yes, my boy apparently suffers from what I wrongly assumed only plagues older, overweight people.

According to the experts, obstructive apnea affects roughly 2 percent of kids under the age of 6. I also learned that sleep disorders have serious consequences. My kid could be at a greater risk of obesity and diabetes, as well as attention deficit disorders. The most common culprit of childhood apnea is enlarged adenoids and tonsils. The most common cure is surgery.

Part of the diagnosis includes an overnight sleep study. To my surprise this also includes toddlers. A few weeks ago, my son had his sleep study performed at a clinic in Glendale. It started off promising, my child actually allowed the sleep tech to attach all the sensors to his body. But, after a few hours, my boy decided that the sensors interfered with his tossing and turning, so he pulled most of them off his body. The tech tried replying them once. He pulled them off again. Game over.

As for our journey, we are now waiting to see what’s next in the diagnosis to treatment phase. Depending on the study results, the doctor will either remove just his adenoids, or perhaps both the adenoids and tonsils.

Bottom line, I can only hope it leads to a better night sleep for us all, especially for my son, who really doesn’t know what he’s missing.

 

                        CONVERSATION WITH MY 4 YEAR OLD BOY


Me:  You’ve been such a good boy, you can get a new toy when we go to Target.
4Yo Son:  A new toy!?
Me:  Yes, how about a new puzzle.
4YO Son:  I don’t want a puzzle, I want “Doggy Doo”.
Me:  “Doggy Doo” ?
4YO Son:  Yes, I saw it on Cartoon Network.   
Me:  What is “Doggy Doo”?
4YO Son:  It’s a doggy like Weiner that goes poo, poo.
Me:  I’m not getting you a doggy that poo-poos.  You got two doggies that poo-poo all day long.
4YO Son:  But I want “Doggy Doo”! I want to play with “Doggy Doo”.
Me:  Let’s take a walk outside in the backyard, there’s plenty of “Doggy Doos” to play with.

The TAKE AWAY:   He didn’t think the trip to the backyard was funny.  I didn’t think the toy “Doggy Doo” was real.   And for the record, he got a puzzle. 

Driving into work this morning, I  heard a “Kings of Leon” song on the radio.   Nothing earth shattering about that, but what happened next was so oddly liberating.  The song triggered a memory of a dream I had last night involving, you guessed it, the “Kings of Leon”.  

In the dream, I initially had thought I was dating one of the brothers—not the lead singer, but the other one.  Yes, I know there are 3 brothers in the band and a cousin, but I can’t remember which brother.  But  if I had to guess it was the drummer just because I dig drummers (if you read this blog you know this). 

Anyway, it’s not about which Followill brother I was dating.  It’s about what happened next.    You see, during the dream,  I remember being so nervous watching them sing on stage and wondering, anticipating what was going to happen backstage after the show.

Would the drummer talk to me? Was I really his girl?  You know.. stupid shit that matters to you during a crush.

While I contemplated the after party, I remember that all of them were smiling at me lovingly during their set.  And it wasn’t just the drummer who I think I thought I was dating.   The band was so lovely, and yet it was all so strange.  I was the center of their attention… they all loved me.   

Fast forward to the after party. I remember it being filled with beautiful young hipsters—both male and female and strangely, they all looked the same- kind of like when you walk into a cafe in Silver Lake/Echo Park.   

Anyway-when I walked through the door to the after party, the boys of the Kings of Leon came right up to me and gave me a warm embrace.  One after the other, they all wanted to hug me.  I remember thinking, “ What the fuck was happening?”.  Was I a band whore?  Was I “doing” the entire Followill family?  Side note—some might say that was plausible in my early days…however, I maintain that shit would NEVER of happened.

Anyway… back to the dream.  During one of the KOL hugs, something so shocking happened:  one of the band members called me “Mom” (I think I gasped in my dream because I gasped remembering the moment in the car this morning).  

The dream ended shortly after that.. the moment I came to the realization that I was the Queen of the Kings of Leon.  I was their mother.  There would be no need for special favors after the show.  I was their fucking mother.  And people, that is the best “all access” pass a girl could ever have.

 

HEY..HEY..HEY… A PARENTING #FAIL

Growing up in the 70s/80s, one of my favorite Saturday morning cartoons was “Fat Albert”.  I always looked forward to watching Albert and the Cosby gang, seeing the challenges they would face and the lessons that they would learn.

Over the years, “Fat Albert” has taken some heat on its portrayal of African Americans.  But not much has been said about the title of the cartoon “Fat Albert”.  Odds are Bill Cosby would not be able to pitch a cartoon with that name now.  It’s too politically incorrect.  No one likes to be called fat. 

Confession time: growing up my older brother use to call me “fatty”.  Yes, “fatty”.  I wasn’t fat.  Perhaps a bit “big boned”,  but never fat.  Of course the nickname stuck like flies to shit.  Our neighborhood gang often called me “fatty”.  It sucked…

Not too long ago I asked my brother why he called me “fatty”, his answer: “because it was funny”.  Uhm…no, it wasn’t funny.  I fucking hated it and him for creating that nickname.  It plays with my psyche to this day. 

So this takes me to my luscious 2 1/2 year old son and what happened during a recent visit to his pediatrician.   My kid is a big, beautiful little boy who has been having trouble sleeping.  Turns out, he might have sleep apnea.  His pediatrician thinks his tonsils and adenoids are abnormally large.  The good news, we are being referred to a specialist.

Then came the not so good news.  Toward the end of the visit, she pulled me over to her computer to show me a handy dandy chart.. a chart that tracks my son’s growth since birth.  I learned that my kid is off the charts for both height and weight.  There it was in a spreadaheet… proof that he is a big, big boy.  

After the illustration, she got serious and informed me that it’s now time to “track what he eats”.  Those four words hit me like a brick:  ”Track what he eats”.   Translation:  he’s a “fatty” and it’s time for a diet!

I was devastated. I quickly explained to her that I can’t get my 4 year old to eat anything and I can’t stop my 2 year old from overeating.  He wants to eat all the time, so there must surely be something wrong with him?  

She just looked at me and smiled, “the good news, he’s young and  you’re in control of what he eats.”   

Fuck me.  Another parenting failure.

"Prepare For Landing"

  • The Scene: A conversation with my 4 year old during the "flight attendants prepare for landing" phase of our flight.
  • Me: I need to tighten your seatbelt we are about to land.
  • Son: (annoyed & pushed my arm away) Moooom!! No.
  • Me: The pilot said it could be bumpy, I need to protect you as we go down.
  • Son (screams): WE ARE GOING DOWN? THAT'S AWESOME!!!
  • The Take Away: I have to admit this was (kind of) funny, but probably not so much for the dude sitting front of us. Perhaps that's because my kid was kicking his seat half the flight... :(