No More Tonsils
Harper got her tonsils out last week. We knew it had to happen; she had strep throat four times since March. We basically haven’t been anywhere, our handwashing game is on point, and she is still getting sick over and over. Every time she’s sick, I feel this wave of panic which my anxiety delivers with such confidence that it’s COVID. Every possible symptom of being sick is now on the COVID symptom list. This has added to my own ups and downs during this time, even though I can logically recognize that even if was COVID, she would likely get better and be fine and kids her age don’t even really get that sick. That logic doesn’t stop my initial, gut-rooted panic that grows out of carrying out the anxiety over the unknown of COVID all the time, no matter how much I avoid the news.
We scheduled the surgery, with some trepidation because of COVID and the exposure of doing the surgery. She would have to go into the surgery center, get a breathing tube, be treated by a team of medical professionals, etc. It’s definitely a risk, but with no end to COVID or her strep infections in sight, we decided to do it because she’s so miserable with strep and the infections were just getting more and more frequent.
Harper is a dedicated morning person, which generally drives me crazy and significantly reduces my daily quality of life (Sorry Harper, I love you but I enjoy you much more after 9 AM). I am a dedicated NOT-morning person and facing the world at 6 AM with an energetic kid full of ideas of ways to jump into the day is not how I would describe my ideal morning. In this case, it’s actually helpful, and she was confident she would be up and ready before we had to leave at 5:30 AM for the procedure. Her important question the night before was what time she should wake me up. I decided to set an alarm just in case, but of course, she was up and ready (in her pajamas) early.
The procedure itself is straightforward - in and out pretty quickly, then a mandatory two hour wait at the facility to monitor her. I was nervous, so I kept talking too much to the nurses doing the check in screening, and then completing some completely non-essential online shopping on my phone to pass the time while they operated. At least the subsequent packages arriving on our porch gave me something to look forward to while we were stuck at home even more than usual.
Brave little patient, wrapped up in her favorite blanket Harold. Yes, her blanket is named Harold.
After procedure, she kept complaining that she “felt weird” and she definitely wanted to go home. She patiently watched her iPad and drank little sips of water while we waited. I had to text all the family with updates on her progress, so I sat quietly in the dark room and listened to her show...and squeezed in a little more online shopping for clothes to wear (nowhere). The nurse came in and went over the instructions for going home. It was weirdly uncomfortable to sit next to someone and talk to them as she sat by me and flipped through the papers with medication instructions, diet restrictions, and reasons to panic. Once we finally finished our waiting period, the nurse brought her out to the car in a wheelchair since she couldn’t walk because of the anaesthesia .
We brought her home, with strict instructions to not let her get dehydrated. Now, I am always concerned about dehydration. My family teases me that it’s my answer to everything. Headache? Drink water. Tired? Drink water. So I felt in my element and empowered, ready to push fluids even more than usual. In related news, Harper has been complaining that she has to go to the bathroom so many times. I feel accomplished with every complaint.
I had stocked up on soft foods for her, but here’s the list of what we actually needed:
Jello. SO much jello.
Bottle of spray whipped cream to top everything and make it more fun to eat jello for all meals.
Ramen.
Very smooth mashed potatoes with no seasoning. Even a little pepper bothered her, so I ended up making them just for her with a touch of salt. I added some extra water to make them a little more soupy. The instant pot was key for this, because it makes everything mushy anyway.
Congee. Rice porridge, again with no seasoning. She ate a lot of this.
Ice cream, with no chunks or chocolate chips or anything.
Milk, for making milkshakes.
Donuts. Seriously, I blended whole donuts into milkshakes. Anything to keep it fresh and interesting. This made her happy.
Pudding
Yogurt
Frozen fruit to blend into smoothies
Popsicles, although Harper wasn’t into popsicles.
Eggs (we started letting her have soft scrambled eggs on day 6)
Frozen peas to use as an ice pack on the throat. I think sometimes this was mostly just placebo effect, but whatever.
LOTS of tylenol and ibuprofen. Taking it alternating every 3 hours really uses up a lot of it.
iPad
Kawaii coloring pages
I had asked friends and family to mail her cards, so she would have happy mail to open while she was recovering. I think the signs and cards made it kind of special for the first few days. I got her a new set of athleisure to “chill” in at home (during my online shopping time at the surgery center), plus a super soft set of shorts onesie from Candy Pink Girls (which I wish came in adult sizes because these seem like a quarantine necessity) which was another fun surprise. We didn’t worry about screen time, and just basically let her be the judge of how much she wanted to play and how much she wanted to watch iPad.
Days one and two, she was basically in bed, watching tv. Especially the first day, she was so off that she couldn’t really do anything until the drugs wore off completely. She was taking hydrocodone, and it was making her stomach hurt, so we backed off that and ended up just doing tylenol and ibuprofen most of the time, except in the morning when she would first wake up. Her pain was most at that time, and she was a little panicky about it, wanting us to check her temperature and her throat (she had clearly listened carefully to the nurse’s warnings about fever and bleeding). When she was in a lot of pain, we would talk her into taking the hydrocodone so we could get it to manageable level, but then finish the day with the lighter octane stuff.
Starting on day two, she liked having little things to do while watching tv, so stickers, silly putty, and kawaii coloring pages helped the time pass. We talked her into watching Supermarket Sweep re-runs, but she wasn’t as thrilled as Tommy and I were. She would move from place to place around the house, laying on the couch, sitting at the kitchen table, in her bed, in my bed, even occasionally outside when she said she needed some fresh air.
The days passed in a slow blend since they all seemed the same. She woke up during the night in pain every night, which has been exhausting for us all. Finally, today, day eight, she is feeling better. She is playing a little, talking more, eating a little more food. It feels like she’s on the mend finally, and I’m so happy to see her recovering. We introduced her to her new laptop for distance learning this fall, and she is “in love”. It’s a touchscreen (insert kid squealing here)! She can play games, watch Netflix, and even practice her typing. I have mandated 10 minutes of typing practice daily starting today so that when she starts, she will be comfortable using it and figuring out the laptop won’t be one more challenge of online school.
And the fact that we are talking about the next thing means that we are ready to move on to days not dominated by remembering medication, pushing fluids, resting, and waiting for recovery. I am not good at waiting, and I’ve been feeling down and restless during this time. I like working toward something, and being in a situation where the solution is waiting while repeating the same simple steps is hard for me to accept. I like to feel like I control my own fate, although I can recognize that this is an illusion even at the best of times. I’m working on it. I finished a whole meditation course on acceptance a few months ago. It seems I’m a slow learner who needs a remedial course.
In the broader picture, this time has made perfectly clear that my dedication to always moving forward, setting my own direction, and completing the course at a speed I can set is a false understanding of life. Waiting for Harper to heal from her tonsils is just a microcosm of the broader world, waiting for the world to heal from COVID. Acceptance of the external forces in life creates a space where I can thrive by finding joy and meaning in the current moment, in the current experience, through personal growth and through going deeper into myself. I am seeking to find the joy in the forced interruption to my plans, not always successfully, but in trying to accept what I cannot control, I can find and accept my own strength.