Anyone who hasn't been reading long; the 3 year old had grommets fitted 2 weeks ago, a very simple surgical procedure. I just had to let you know because the way I describe things from here on in you'd think he’d had open heart surgery.
The big day arrived and for all my calm, laid back 'I’m cool with this', I became a complete bundle of nervous crazy brrrrrp ding.
The 4 year old went off to school and I had 2 hours to kill before we needed to set off. I washed, I ironed, I tidied, I folded things … most out of character. I kept looking at my oblivious boy and was hit by a huge wave of love and thinking he was just so handsome. At one point I had to pick up ‘Bikini Barbie’ and get her to slap me about the face whilst telling me to get a grip.
When we got to the hospital he went off to play in the playroom which was very well stocked with toys and children of all ages with various body parts bandaged.
In preparation we had talked about the operation, even read a book all about it (most nights at the 3 year olds request) but I really don’t think there was any comprehension. He simply obsessed about riding on a bed with wheels.
Time ticked by so slowly. We had visits from a nurse, a Dr and the anaesthesiologist who all asked the same questions and then tagged the 3 year old with an array of wrist and ankle bands. The 3 year old just looked at them each as if they were speaking Japanese, unaware of their significance.
At 2pm the nurse came and told us it was time to go to theatre. Only one parent was allowed with him whilst he was being put to sleep. I offered to toss a coin, but husband graciously let me go. As we walked out of the ward the 3 year old skipped ahead in his half mast jimjams with Lulu clenched between his teeth like a dog.
When we got into the theatre he lay on a bed looking at the strange men who had visited his bed earlier. They tried to cajole some conversation out of him at which point seeing all the medical paraphernalia I got tense and went into ‘cracking jokes’ overdrive.
I was told to chat to the 3 year old whilst they went about knocking him out. The nurse behind me must have sensed my mild terror and resorted to blowing up a rubber glove to distract him … and me.
In a matter of seconds they had the needle in without a flinch from the 3 year old, I on the other hand was rigid … but still holding my ‘everything is fine, I look like I've had botox’ smile. His eyes rolled back in his head and he was asleep, instantly snoring, clutching Lulu. I kissed him and left with tears pricking my eyes.
The nurse told me to go back to the ward, have something to eat then come back down in 30 minutes and wait in the corridor outside theatre for him.
25 minutes after swallowing a sandwich whole I was pacing the corridor outside theatre. After a further 20 minutes I was starting to worry. The door suddenly opened and a bed rolled out with a child on it, not my child. The nurse with the child asked if I was Mrs D and said my boy was already back on the ward. My eyes pricked again; I wasn’t there for him.
The next 10 minutes was a comedy of errors as I tried to get back to the ward. The staircases were blocked off due to maintenance work so I had to use a lift which went to every floor but mine ending in me being trapped at the back when it did get to my floor by wheelchair bound grannies on a day out who wanted to discuss with me the finer points of the canteen. I had to use everything I had not to shout 'I don't give a f*ck about the f*cking canteen, GET OUT OF MY WAY'.
When I got to the ward I could hear the wailing. My disorientated, groggy boy was beside himself. My husband was trying to comfort him. I sat and rocked him for what felt like an hour until he stopped crying. Apparently they had brought him up in another lift, totally bypassing me waiting for him in the corridor. He had cried all the way up. I was angry, but contained myself.
When he’d calmed down he ate 4 slices of toast, drank a huge beaker of juice and thankfully wasn’t sick on me. Result! After 30 minutes he was up and leaping around the ward in a slightly hyper fashion.
We were allowed to go home 2 hours after his operation and he slept all the way home.
The following morning I was woken by him getting into bed with me.
3 year old - What’s that noise Mummy?
Me – The birds tweeting in the trees.
3 year old – What’s that noise Mummy?
Me – The radiators filling with water.
Things I take for granted that he hadn’t been able to hear before.
In the 2 weeks since we have noticed a vast improvement in his hearing, speech and his balance.
He still falls over but not as often!