The Re-Do

Not everything requires a re-do.  Meals and laundry have a way of feeling like they're constantly on re-do, but in reality they're just in a constant state of cycling.

Whittaker needed a Big ole' Re-Do.  A Cartilage Tympanoplasty Re-do.

The surgery 11 months earlier had been a success in many ways but the cartilage screen that was placed to protect the ear bones from the eardrum did not stay in place.  So after evaluation the re-do was scheduled.  This time around we knew what to expect both physically from the surgery, emotionally from the recovery and psychologically from the reactions that Whittaker had last time to the wearing of hospital pajamas, to waking from anesthesia and missing the ipad, to becoming disenchanted with recovery restrictions.  So we prepared.  I even told Whittaker a week prior that it was going to happen again and oddly enough he was ecstatic!  Every day he asked if it was ear dr. day.

We prepared a recovery spot upstairs.  He set up his favourite stuffed friends to keep him company.  He gathered together some books, toys, games and legos to occupy his time while sequestered in a corner of my bedroom for two weeks.  He requested movies, audio books and games on the tablet.  He required a tray for his meals and a bell for contacting us to have his needs met.  We acquired many face masks.

We panicked a little because he developed a slight cough the days leading up to the surgery, but day of his lungs were clear and he was approved for surgery.

We packed our bags with similar items from almost a year before and prepared for Surgery day.  This time surgery was scheduled for 11am.  Last time it was 7:30am.  Earlier is definitely better!  Less people scheduled ahead means less getting bumped back on the roster.  Earlier  means he can start his fasting while he's already asleep and we leave the house before he's realized he's missed breakfast... Later means, he wakes naturally and the sun is rising in our eyes the entire drive to the hospital.  It also means he's starving and knows it and isn't impressed that food is being denied.  It also means that the child life specialists are far more important to him.  He needs entertaining and now he knows to ask for stuff.

We retook the pre-surgery selfie.

Although we had discussed that he would need to wear the hospital jammies since it had been a subject of turmoil last time, he still tried to simply put them on over his own clothes.  He finally agreed that he would prefer any messes and stains go on the hospital jammies instead of his own and agreed to wear them if he could have a new pair of yellow socks.

Last time he only had about 3 minutes with electronics and when he awoke from the anesthesia it was a source of great upset that he no longer had any electronics.  This time however, with the long wait and then delay after delay and instead of having an 11:00 start time, he had a 2:00 start time.  He had ample time to try the Xbox, the Playstation, the Wii, Mine Craft and the IPad.

He has since commented that he'd like to go back again.  Perhaps hospitals ought to consider that they are causing pediatric surgery to have too great an appeal.

Post Op.  First time, he felt betrayed because of the pain and was willing to be appeased with a root beer slushie and some tv, but still whimpered with misunderstanding why he hurt so.  The experience coming into the re-do betrayed him.  As he woke from the anesthesia he asked for the slushie as though it was to be expected, but instead of it appeasing him, it upset his stomach and he was nauseous.  We had to remain an extra two hours waiting for him to be less queasy.  He also had forgotten about the I.V. and was annoyed by it.  All the annoyance with the unexpected however perked him up faster than the previous time.
He recommends the orange slushy over the root beer.

Recovery.  Last time, the walk to the car and the car ride were exhausting and miserable and he seemed lethargic and sad.  The somberness continued for a few days, laying in bed calmly accepting his restrictions and asking only for his stuffed animals and new hospital fleece blanket.  

Recovery this time.... He chatted with Daddy on the phone while we drove home and requested a movie in the van. We came home after dinner time and he was starving.  He had broth, a roll and some yoghurt and then fell asleep.  By 4am however he was uncomfortable sleeping with the bandaging over his ear and wanted up and hasn't been content to stay in bed since.  He's alert and content and has no complaints of any pain.  He is bothered by the restrictions that kept him in his bed for a week while he felt fine and is annoyed that he isn't to be running or jumping.  He constantly sneaks out of bed, downstairs and outside.  This will be a long 6 weeks.  

Guests at Duncan's birthday were troubled that they couldn't eat cake through their masks, but Emerson has been phenomenal at his willingness to wear his mask whenever he plays with Whittaker.  

Day of surgery tidbits.

*Hospital is undergoing MAJOR renovations.  Internet access was sporadic at best...  Noise level in the waiting areas was...well like sitting just outside a construction site.  I had a splitting headache

*Sarah called mid morning to tell me that Duncan had been in contact with some Nutella... his eyes were swelling shut and he was wheezing... "Where's his medicine and how much?"  

*Emerson napped late but slept a long time and Sarah claims he didn't once have a potty accident.  I told her I'd leave home more often

*Whittaker threw up all over me.  I'm a seasoned surgical parent... I had a change of clothes for both of us in the van.

*Last time Olaf and Moolah were stuffed companions, this time 'Hank Hi-five Sparkly Fin McFish Lips' attended.

*The second surgery repaired the screen that fell and also rebuilt his eardrum this time.  Some cartilage was grafted for the rebuild so he has two scars this time.  He thinks that's cool.

ipanic

This is our best... 'It's 6am and we're in a hospital waiting room smiles.'  We've already had a small meltdown because I woke him up before he wanted to wake up and because it was dark outside and he didn't want to go to the hospital in the dark.  But not to worry... he promised me last night that he was going to be good and not panic.

(When he gets in a worrying mood, a regular occurrence,  I'm often saying, "Don't Panic! it's okay.  I can fix. or I can help. or It's not something to panic about.")

After checking in and waiting,  we were brought to an exam room.  His height and weight were needed.  When they asked him to remove his coat and shoes to step on the scale, he quietly whined, "I want to keep my shoes."  I convinced him that I would save his shoes in my bag.  He acquiesced and stood on the scale. 

Next the nurse came in to take his vitals.  

He tolerated her.

The i.d. bracelet, she gave him was annoying.

He didn't want the finger tip oxygen saturation clip.

He didn't like the squeezing blood pressure cuff.

He put up with all the vitals, the temp., the eyes, ear and mouth check, but when the nurse handed him the hospital gown to wear he burst into tears. 

The staff were ALL exceptionally patient with him and extra friendly and chipper, some even downright goofy, but they didn't understand that he barely wanted to wear the pajamas I had insisted on since I knew he couldn't wear his favorite outfit after the surgery!  First t-shirts over his head wouldn't be a good idea for a little while over his stitches and the temperature outside was only 29 degrees. (not soccer short temps.)

I had to tell him that the pajamas were not negotiable.  I even tried to talk up the cool yellow socks. This was his happy face.

From here, it was out to the surgical waiting room.   We read, Curious George goes to the hospital.  Good conversation starter, and we looked at all the similar things he had to do and George had to do, until George had to get a shot, then I had to convince him that he was NOT getting a shot today. (I wondered if I should bring up the i.v.?  (they told me they would do it after he was asleep, maybe I won't mention it)  A nurse came to talk to him.  They really have a good system.  They showed him a photo album of the surgical room, a picture of his anesthesiologist and told him his name, showed him the mask that he would be wearing and offered him a doll in a hospital gown that he could operate on with her.  She would help him put stitches in the dolls ears, but he climbed on my lap and said emphatically, no.  Next he had to choose which scent he wanted in his oxygen mask.  He didn't mind this portion asking her to let him smell each and every scent before he finally chose.  Orange.

Whittaker had a special guest with him at the hospital but even that brought some challenges.  Jim and Lorrie gave him a singing Olaf from Frozen, for his hospital visit.  It got a lot of attention from the nurses and some unwanted attention from a few other kids in the waiting room.  After having to tell a few kids that it wasn't a hospital toy, Whittaker put Olaf in his bag so he'd be safe.

Next the surgeon came to see us.  I signed final consent forms and then the doctor tried to talk to Whittaker.  He held his hand and began drawing a smiley face on the back of his hand while he told him that he was going to be the Dr. taking care of his ears today and he wanted to make sure he was operating on the correct ear.  So he was going to mark his hand and his ear on the right side.  The Dr. hadn't even finished the eyes when we realized something wasn't to Whittakers liking.  First a hospital bracelet that was scratchy and annoying, then non-negotiable gown/jammies, and now this Dr. drew on his hand and his ear.  He was miserable and rather unforgiving.  He wouldn't even stop looking at his hand held out as far away from his body as he could as if it was poison.  The poor surgeon was looking at me for a clue?  I just responded, "you never know what is going to panic him.  Don't worry, I'll talk to him."

The surgeon left and Whittaker wouldn't stop whining about the drawing.  After telling him a dozen times he needed to be brave and not worry because we can wash it off when we get home, I took him potty and ignored the whining.

When we came back from the potty, the anesthesiologist was there and ready for him.  He unfortunately asked Whittaker why he was so sad looking, and got a very whiny, unintelligible tirade about the drawing on his hand and a last minute addition about the jammies and the i.d. bracelet.  I said, "He's just overcome with joy about his surgery."

The anesthesiologist had one plus on his side, he had a red wagon for Whittaker to ride to the operating room in.  However when Whittaker realized I wasn't coming along for the ride he tried to climb right back out.  The nurse who had helped him choose his oxygen mask scents came to the rescue though.  She asked if he'd like to play a game on the hospitals special ipad.  ooooh... Yes, that he would like.   He sat back in the wagon and immediately started up a game.  We said good bye, he gave me a kiss without looking away from the screen and they were off.

I walked the other direction down the hall to the parents waiting room.  Within about 5 minutes the nurse with the ipad came to see me and let me know that he was already asleep.  She says the ipad is definitely this generations lollipop!

 (One thing we noticed today was that each of the doctors and nurses who worked with Whittaker today had a date stamped under the name of the Hospital on their scrubs.  Each had the same date.  Whittakers birthdate.  I pointed it out to the Dr. and he said... of course, we planned it!  then he smiled and said, it was just a good omen.  Just the rotation of the laundry....)

I tried to read a book during my 3 hour wait.  There was a lot going on in the parent waiting room though.  It was a crowded room, with a lot of conversations going on, a t.v. blaring, lots of cell phones going off, and lots of  announcements from the receptionist regarding this patient or that patient, then the hospitality food cart came and then there was a lot of crinkly snack packages.  I had an apple cider and a chocolate muffin and moved to the furthest corner of the waiting room.  The operating room sent an update to me each hour.  Finally the surgeon came to find me in my far away corner and told me that it was over.

He explained what they had found and that it was a success.  All went as planned, the damage in the ear wasn't as severe as they were worried it might have been so we should expect full hearing recovery to be possible.  We won't know for 6 weeks though since he has a gel like packing inside his ear canal.

I gathered up my things and headed to the recovery to find a very groggy, lethargic little boy.   He was slow to wake from the anesthesia and rather annoyed when he woke.  He was completely unimpressed with everything in his surroundings, from the i.v. in his foot, to the beeping machines around the bed, to the nurse taking his vitals and to this annoying itchy bandage on his head.  We had to hold him down a few times because as he woke he was thrashing around and tangling the cords.  When he finally woke enough that he realized he was still in the hospital and I was standing there, he kept looking around frantically and saying, "They take it away?"  After multiple inquiries we finally figured out what was worrying him.  He wanted the ipad.  In his mind he only had the ipad a minute or two and now it's just gone.   Time for him stood still and ipads were stolen!

It took a root beer slushy and a movie to make him finally forget about the ipad.  

He was still groggy for a while and would suddenly fall asleep all afternoon.  

Finally cleared to go home.  He rode once again in the wagon and this time they gave him a warm fleece blanket.  The ride from the recovery unit to the van must have been exhausting because he was asleep.  

Of course he was also asleep again after he got in the van before I had a chance to leave the parking lot.  

Home again, home again, jiggety jog.  When you fall asleep, everything happens quickly.  Once he was settled in his home version of a recovery bed, his first request was to remove the i.d. band, wash his hand (it didn't completely come off!) and remove all the bandages.  Well he got two out of three.  He tried to tell everyone about his day at the hospital.  Suddenly he remembered..... "they not do the smells!"   He tried to tell Sarah about the orange scent he was supposed to have.  (He must not have noticed the smell when he went to sleep with the ipad)  He sniffed his hands and he glumly said, "They not make me smell like oranges.  I smell like... like.... like brown.!"

He rested and watched a movie and was so pleased when he could finally eat this evening.  He's bummed that we won't let him get out of bed yet, so the next couple days the struggle will be keeping him resting when he apparently is feeling fine.  

Today's hurdle is over.  The next 48 hours are going to be the next hurdle.  Then 6 weeks until removing the gel from the ear and going back for follow up should hopefully be our final hurdle. 

I'm just so glad he didn't panic about anything today.