We are exactly two weeks out from Olivia’s tonsillectomy. She hit a wall last week right around day eight. She napped for several days in a row, her appetite dwindled and she started sucking on (wiping the inside of her mouth? Who knows what she was doing) wash cloths. We went through about three hundred wash cloths in the span of about four days.
Then, on Monday, Olivia declared her own independence. She woke up HUNGRY. She told me she didn’t need medicine. She ate well at all three meals and asked for snacks throughout the day. She decided to forgo a nap in favor of watching a parade. She danced and sang and ran around with her sister.
I don’t know if I kept track of Alyssa’s tonsil journey but O’s seems pretty normal so far. We managed to avoid any tonsil bleeds (those things sound SCARY), infection, dehydration, and any of the many other things that can go wrong after this surgery.
Even the smell this time around seems less intense than when Lyss’s tonsils came out. Of course, Miss A refused to eat for the first four days after her surgery. Olivia, on the other hand, ate PIZZA about six hours after surgery. She’s a trooper, I tell you.
After two days with no pain medication, Olivia did come to me last night and let me know her jaw was hurting. I hugged her and then took her to the kitchen where her meds were still on the counter. As I poured the medicine for her, I said, “Well, you have been eating a lot these past couple of days, you’re jaw is probably sore from all the chewing.”
She grinned even as she took the medicine.
At this point, I can honestly say that I’m glad we went ahead with surgery. I am hopeful that this will make third grade better for her, with fewer illnesses, fewer missed days of school, less time spent at Urgent Care.
I didn’t have quite as much guilt this time around as I did when Alyssa went through surgery and the recovery involved in a tonsillectomy but this time around, I had the anecdotal experience we’d had with Alyssa. I knew the pain wouldn’t last forever. I knew the smell would dissipate. I knew that she’d heal and we’d move on, leaving this moment in time behind us, memories to be dusted off every so often but mostly regarded as a blip on the radar of her life.