Marie is scheduled to have her adenoids and possibly her
tonsils taken out this week.
This is a long time coming.
We have been monitoring her sleep apnea since this nasty incidenthappened almost two years ago.
Since then, she’s been on meds to reduce the swelling of
her adenoids and tonsils. She’s been off
her meds to see what happens. She has
been sick pretty much the whole winter.
(And when I look back at all the pictures since she was three, she has
had a little red mustache starting from Christmas until after Birthday Season).
I have taken her to a special orthodontist to ensure her excessive
mouth breathing isn’t causing any issues with her teeth. She has also had to go to the dentist to
scrape the buildup off from her teeth caused by excessive mouth breathing and
the steady flow of antibiotics.
Enough is enough, and the ENT thinks it’s time for surgery.
Usually, I am pretty cool about these things. I put my feelings into a vault so that I can
be the reliable source of comfort to my child.
But to be honest, I. Am. Freaking. Out. I am not sleeping well. I am panicky and snappy.
I may think that I am fooling everyone that I look calm
about this “minor procedure” (which, anything involving an anesthesiologist and
a surgeon with a knife is never minor to me), but I don’t think so.
One look at my face and the teenage-like acne that has
sprouted all over is a clear indication that I am not fine.
Seriously, if this acne could talk, it would say a lot.
It would say that this “minor procedure” (did I mention it’s
outpatient? How ridiculous is that?!) is
bringing up a lot of scar tissue. When
Marie was born, she was born with macrocephaly, which is fancy for “big head.” Although that doesn’t sound threatening, it
did results in a slew of head ultrasounds, an MRI, and lots of physical and
occupational therapy.
And lots of therapy for me, too.
For the first 18 months, we didn’t know what was wrong with her. That’s a long time to live with
your child’s health up in the air.
I can’t say that I ever totally worked through those
feelings. I have a better understanding
of my feelings, but something like that changes a person forever. I would say there is a little place inside me
where those feelings stay all wrapped up in a box sitting on a shelf. I don’t really think about them all that
often.
Until something like this happens.
And it’s not like I can just check out for a while until I
feel less agitated with worry. Oh,
no. The show must go on. I must wake up. I must get lunches made. I must make sure Marie gets ready for
school. I must make sure Thomas doesn’t
watch too much TV to ensure his brain doesn’t turn to mush.
As if a plain ol’ day of motherhood wasn’t draining enough,
add something like a “minor surgical procedure” into the mix and suddenly,
drinking a cup of coffee seems like too much of a chore.
It’s exhausting, really.
Just ask my acne.
If you have any words of wisdom about powering through a
tough time like this, I would greatly appreciate them.
