The nurse put a special mask on Hello Kitty so that Hello Kitty could accompany Shaling to the operating room. She also gave Shaling special goggles and her anesthetic mask (with no tubes yet inserted). The mask was cherry-scented, but Shaling was not impressed. Shaling also insisted that she was NOT going to go to sleep. She wasn't swayed by my stories of a special medicine that would make her sleep. Nor was she swayed by the anesthesiologist telling her that he had "magic" that would make her sleep. She firmly replied that she, herself, had magic and would not sleep. Her stubbornness was a bit hysterical.
Here she is with Grandma & Hello Kitty, modeling her special goggles and the dreaded mask, which she would later find to be her enemy.
When it was time for Mom, Dad, & Grandma to head back out to the waiting room, Shaling showed no fear whatsoever. She energetically followed the nurse down the hallway to the operating room, smiling broadly the entire time, as if she was headed for an afternoon at the park. We were so inspired by her attitude.
They told us later that she climbed right up onto the operating table of her own accord. She was brave right up until she realized the anesthesia was working and she was getting drowsy. She became distraught at that point and removed the mask, refusing to put it back on. At that point, they had to hold her down to finish administering the anesthetic. She was THAT determined not to go to sleep. She battled valiantly, but lost.
The procedure itself took a couple of hours, plus we had to wait for her to wake up before we could see her. I use the term "wake up" quite loosely here. After she fluttered her eyelids a bit, a nurse greeted her and asked her if she was ok. She replied, "ow". At that point, they came to get us. This is what we walked in on:
Keep in mind that this is the little girl that just 4 hours earlier had insisted she wouldn't go to sleep.
Ok.
I confess.
I teared up.
Her bravery was such a beautiful thing to see, but seeing the life literally sucked out of her was quite difficult. I sat and caressed her back for awhile. I gently asked her if she was hot, if she was ok, if she was thirsty, etc., in between long periods of silence. I received no responses. She repositioned herself a few times, but it was obvious she was incoherent. She was similar to a drunk. After about 15 minutes, she looked me directly in the eye and weakly said, "I want to go home. Can I go home?"
I had a twofold reaction. Firstly, as any parent would react, my heart ached that she was in so much pain and confusion that all she wanted to do was go home, where she felt safe and comfortable. Secondly, my heart filled with love and joy that all she wanted to do was go home, where she felt safe and comfortable. We literally just got her home 8 months ago yesterday. To know that in such a short time, home has become such an important haven for her overwhelms me with emotion.
The nurses told us that her vitals were good, so despite the fact that she was still so oozy, since she wanted to go home, they would go ahead and discharge her to us if we were comfortable taking her. Roughly ten minutes later, we helped Shaling stand up and Brock lifted her up to carry her. She promptly vomited all over the floor and herself, somehow sparing Hello Kitty & Daddy. The nurses quickly went into action cleaning it up and getting her in a wheelchair.
After a brief stop at CVS to pick up an antibiotic, a pain reliever, steroid ear drops, an antibiotic ointment, and bandages, we got her home without further incident. She has spent the last roughly 6 hours on the couch, watching television. The one exception was when she got up to use the bathroom. While sitting on the toilet, she vomited again. Her balance is all thrown off from the surgery, and I think that is what is causing the nausea. She's had perhaps a 1/2 cup of soup and some Sprite. She really wants her big brother to stay with her on the couch. She even sacrificed watching tv, so he could play the wii. In the almost nine months I've known her, this is the least energetic I've ever seen her.
Perhaps because I knew her surgery was being squeezed in with patients getting ear tubes, I was naive to how restricted she was going to be following her surgery. I knew she wasn't going to be able to swim for two months, but here's what I didn't know:
No running for two weeks.
No jumping for two weeks (therefore, no trampoline).
No bike riding for two weeks.
No heavy lifting for two weeks.
No P.E. for two weeks.
No blowing her nose for two weeks.
No trumpet lessons for two weeks.
No sneezing for two weeks.
Ok, if she can't stifle the sneeze, she's supposed to keep her mouth OPEN during the sneeze.
That is quite a list. I thought I was merely being precautionary by planning to keep her home from school tomorrow, but now I realize there is no way she was going anyway.
All in all, it went well and the doctor was pleased. He is optimistic that her hearing loss will be reversed as the ear heals. Because I don't believe there can be too much prayer, any prayers thrown her way for a smooth recovery are much appreciated.
*******
I have to slip in some good news for Preston here. He re-auditioned for the SVYS (Sangamon Valley Youth Symphony) last week. Last year was his first experience with it. There are 3 groups:
Prep Orchestra (a mostly beginner group - primarily grade schoolers)
Concert Orchestra (a mostly intermediate group - primarily junior high)
Symphony Orchestra (a more advanced group - primarily high schoolers)
Last year (his first year), he made the Concert Orchestra. He struggled a bit, especially the first two months, but persevered. We were so proud of him at the semester concerts, standing up there playing the tympani, which were almost as tall as him. Well, this year, he made the Symphony Orchestra. As a 6th grader, he'll be up on stage with mostly high schoolers. I'm both thrilled for him to have the opportunity and nervous for him, as I know the music will be a bit of a challenge. He is super proud of himself!
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