Boy the last two weeks have been a dusey. It all started back such a long long time back... No wait that is the Lorax.
However these last two weeks have felt very long given their contents. First John was sick. John never gets sick and is not very humble about being sick. Fortunately after he admitted that smoothies were not going to cure him, he went to a doctor and found out he had walking pneumonia. He got a Z- pack and returned to his "normal" self within a few days.
The somewhere in there, I get an e-mail from Isaac's teacher saying his ear is hurting, leaking and he does not feel like participating. She has tried to reach John, but surprise, surprise, John is not answering his phone. Yes folks, you can take the boy out of the wilderness, but you can't train him to keep a cell phone in ear shot, then answer it if he hears something that he is sure is not a bird chirping. So, I scramble to find a sun in the middle of the day, jot down some notes and whisk off to find a miserable feverish Isaac. I then proceed to locate through a series of phone calls, his ENT. We like to work with this guy because he is on the UAB cleft pallet team.
Anyway, we get an appointment for 4 at the opposite end of town. I take him, the doctor shows up at 6:30, looks at him for 2.1 min. Says "yep, that is a nasty one. It is infected, the tube has collapsed and he is going to need surgery ASAP. How about Wednesday." That is only 6 days away, "Sure" I say.
Oops. One thing to know about Isaac is that he can out last a cat in time out. The boy did time in one o the most understaffed orphanages in one of the most densely populated places in the world. He usually does not bother with tears in the middle of the night. He learned early on, that they are a waste of precious calories, because for 3.5 years, no one would come. So for Isaac to be up every hour on the hour sobbing for 5 nights was heart breaking, and a positive thing.
I know some of you are like, did she make another one of her famous typos? But yes, when Isaac leaves food on his plate, a little part of me sings. When he gets his feelings hurt on the playground by another kid, I am actually a little bit relived. And, yes, when my child cries for his mom in the middle of the night, after I say a few bad words under my breath, I am thankful that he is learning that moms help in these kinds of situations.
We spent a lot of quality time rocking that week, singing, being close, and learning about love and comfort. Yes, a wee bit late, but so necessary. I will say the novelty of the revelation that" moms get up in the middle of the night and comfort you" had lost some of its magic by the time Wednesday's surgery rolled around.
Unfortunately due to me having limited time away from work accepted, I had to send John on Wednesday with him for the surgery. I sent him off with the promise that he would feel so much better after the surgery with his new and improved ears. Ladies, take note here. If you send Dad, send him with a note and folder. Yep, just like the one the kids take to school with a side for "give to doctor to keep," and another with a worksheet of questions that the doctor or nurse must complete and sign and place back in the folder on the side saying "return to child''s mother."
I was told, "yeah, everything went OK, we should take him in in two weeks to get it checked." Unfortunately, everything was not OK. Isaac's ear was leaking thick yellowish pinkish puss in copious amounts. I am talking I could scoop it out with a q-tip. It was smelly, nasty and worst of all he was in a ton of pain. So at one week, I decided the Dr. should be called and Isaac should go in. We called and got "our business hours are from 8-5 M-F, please call back during those hours." Click. For three days we got this message, now throwing us into the weekend. By this point, Isaac won't let me near his ear or the back of his head for that matter, and one hour of consecutive sleep would have been dreamy.
In the mean time I have gotten the flu and a stomach bug. I am one yucky weak lady, with one sick ticked off kid.
By Sunday morning, my mama bear instincts are in overdrive fueled by sleep deprivation. I call our pediatricians after hours. I talk to a very sweet nurse. She tells me he should be seen, and that I have to wait until 1pm to call back and get an appointment. Then I get the gate keeper from hell at 1pm. To make a very long story short, she informs me that because Isaac has not been seen by his pediatrician there for over one year, he is no longer an active patient and is not eligible to be seen on the weekends. Kaboom, my rage balloons, and my loss of hope in the world becomes that much greater. Seriously woman. My child is in and out of the specialist once a month and because I have not stopped by our very inhospitable pediatrician's office for a $30 deposit and picked up a few infectious diseases for 13 months, my kid has to suffer. .... I could go on way too long here so I will stop.
On Monday, John finally gets through to the ENT. The ENT looks and says "Oh $h!t" the surgery did not work at all and the infection is threatening to move into the back of his head and burst his ear drum. We need to do surgery again on Wednesday morning. John point blank ask, do we get a discount for a "do over" job.
So finally today we, being me, this time, truck over to Children's this morning. We are late, but I decide not to feel bad about it. They are nice at the check in counter and the woman said that my co-pay was waved. I could have kissed her. This was the way to start my visit. Then we waited, and waited, and the "get out of co-pay" card's joy had worn off and huger started to kick in for Isaac. (Before you get all "my kid gets like that when he is hungry" take note that I am pretty sure I was the only parent in the very busy waiting room taking this kind of abuse.)
Isaac was on the most combative and hateful behavior this morning, that I have ever experienced. He was raising his fist at me prepared to punch me in the face. If I tried to hold him, he would become stiff and say things like "don't touch me, I don't want you to talk to me." Then he would screech and babble at god awful volumes. He scratched at my face, he would kick the chair I was sitting on, barely missing my body. He would shout "I want to punch you in the face and slice you into pieces."
For my part I recognize that I am woman figure #4 in his life. The others did not do such a great job, and there for I get to be tested out for "how unconditional is your love" endurance. I took him on piggy back rides, I tried to play cars with him, I took him on rides in the little red wagon, but ultimately to him I was two things. 1. Another woman who would not give him food when he was hungry, and 2. Another woman who did not make his pain go away.
By the time we got a room I was having to hold his hand firmly to avoid being hit. One second he wanted me to sit with him, the next I was not to touch him. When the anesthesiologist came in and I had to sign something, he started pounding on me, scratching at me and biting. All offers for comfort and cuddling were fiercely rejected. I kept my cool trying to be empathetic. Finally they were ready to take him back. Now is when he lost it. He became hysterical. He wanted to be held by me, didn't want them to take him away from me, promised me he would be good.
I walked him past the first door to OR, the nurse had to physically carry him past the second door, and then he was off.
The surgery did not last long, the Dr. said it really did go well this time. They had to put in a much bigger tube and different kind. He did say the infection was terrible and he needed to continue antibiotics for two weeks, but he felt this surgery would work.
The best news though was that Isaac came out of surgery calm, and asking for a Popsicle. Once he had food, he returned to being my sweet, thoughtful snuggley little boy.
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