What's that noise Mummy?

Sorry for keeping you all waiting on news of the 3 year old's ear operation!

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!

A hint of mild schitzophrenic panic ...

This week my big bold adventurer is going into hospital to have grommets fitted. Hopefully by the end of the day of the operation he will be able to hear properly!

I am very excited but there is a hint of mild schitzophrenic panic. I made the grave mistake of watching an episode of ER last week where a child died in hospital. I sat with a lump in my throat until the end and then watched the final of Masterchef which just pushed me over the edge.

Not only will he be able to hear, but, his speech will improve. Whilst his speech is delayed one word answers have now moved on to full sentences. Some things are clearer than others and need no translation, but when his ears are bad the translation can become time consuming and frustrating.

My latest translation triumphs were ...

meeyonbiowsiiii? = Can I play on my bike outside?

nitno'ot = It's snowing, a lot.

itdogysi'onneeee = The little dog is sitting on my knee.

cartsonplee = I would like some carrots please.

thanyoomearv = Thank you for having me.

He's fairly non plussed about the whole 'going to hospital' part, although I'm not sure he understands. We bought a book called 'tubes in my ears' from Amazon. Published some time in the 1980's it seems to focus in on the fact that although the boy can hear when he comes out of surgery he is also violently sick over his mother. The boys father, dressed in a suit, is always in the background looking non interested and talking on a mobile phone the size of a rugby ball. On the plus side the 3 year old has discovered he will ride on a bed with wheels and he will have teeeny weeny tubes in his ears that will help him hear.

Last month he had a week of really good hearing which was hopefully a taste of things to come. His ears must have drained and the only reason we knew was because EVERYTHING WAS TOO LOUD.

The husband had a moment in a public toilet when the 3 year old screamed blue murder on hearing a hand drier, which has now grown into a phobia of hand driers. The mere sight of one and he covers his ears. Also his sisters singing gave him the eeby jeebies, but then she does, at times, sound like Snow White holding a pneumatic drill.

I seem to have the idea that all that waiting around will mean that I can read my book in peace. Who am I kidding. I will be the mother rocking back and forth, looking nervous, weeping and clutching Lulu.

I'm actually looking forward to the bit where he is violently sick all over me. At least it will be over!

More Cheese Grommet?

Husband and I took the 2 year old to the hospital today for his ear appointment. For some time now I have been aware that he has trouble with his hearing (see the 2 year old's update here). When he is being spoken to he either doesn’t hear or has to concentrate very hard on the face of the person speaking. His speech is delayed and unclear. Funnily enough the 4 year old can understand every word.

He had a hearing test six months ago which said that his hearing was down and that he would need to return for a further hearing test. He was never recalled and it took a further three visits to the Dr to get referred to a specialist.

I took husband with me because I knew that if someone else told me there was no problem I would probably grab their white coat lapels and weep uncontrollably. By the time we got to the hospital he was about ready to chain himself to an NHS professional should we hear that there was nothing wrong.

Usually children’s waiting areas are colourful and bright but lacking any toys. There is always a tatty
‘Take A Break’ with some horrendous ‘Murdered by my mothers, husbands, sisters brother’ headline across it.

I nearly collapsed in shock. There were tables laid out with paper, colouring books and colouring implements. The rest of the areas were sectioned off with chairs but had books and toys in abundance. The best bit was a lady volunteer ‘Doris’ who was doing a good job of keeping the children entertained until their appointment. The 2 year old opted for playing with the pedal on the bin in the corridor.

I sat nervously whilst his hearing was tested and his eardrums were checked for fluid. What if they told us to go away and come back in six months? In six months the then 3 year old would be revving up for morning nursery at school and still unable to hold a conversation with his peers.

We were called to see the consultant. She sat him on a big metal swivel chair, which he promptly swivelled with gusto. She told us his hearing was below normal, he has reoccurring fluid behind his eardrums (otherwise known as ‘glue ear’), which means he’s been living in and out of a bubble of muffled noise for the last 6 months at least.

I felt elated, which seems wrong, but it meant that something would finally have to be done.

She gave us three options … 1. Do nothing (I don’t think so) 2. Take antibiotics and come back in three months (even she was shaking her head at this option) or 3. Have grommets fitted.

We are going for the latter option, which is something my husband and I had already investigated. The waiting list is two to three months.

We went from arriving at hospital thinking we were going to have to fight for our boy to having everything handed to us on a plate. What’s the catch?

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I would love to hear from anyone with experience of grommets!