Today is Friday.
At some point the nurse who held his other hand told me that Owen was out of it and wouldn't remember anything he was doing as he kicked and tried to throw his arms around and grad at the mask. That didn't help me at all and made me kind of lose it just a little. The anaesthesiologist held him up and said "there you go, one last yawn before you fall asleep, that's totally normal" and then Owen was out. They told me to give him a kiss, which I did. When I leaned and kissed him I could smell the anesthesia from the mask and it immediately made me feel like I would be sick. I turned into a nurse with a box of tissues and grabbed some as I turned and tried to walk through the open door only to walk into a wall because I was so upset that I couldn't see. Someone had to open the door to the waiting room, I just couldn't see.
That was my worst morning as a parent. To watch your kid go through what is one of your biggest fears was almost debilitating and then to follow that by throwing up in the bathroom from the smell of the anesthesia that was still in my nose and what I'm sure was also my nerves made for a really, really shitty morning.
And then we waited....
Under a large fish, we waited.....
About 45 minutes later, the Dr came out and talked to us. He told us that Owen did really well and that his tonsils had lots of scars on them from all of his illnesses and that they were very large for a five year old boy and that he was certain removing them had been the best decision. This was nice to hear because even though he'd had croup ten times before he was two and Strep "or something like it" so many times I can't count, it felt kind of elective. While it needed to be done, it's hard to remember that when you walk into a surgery center with a lively, happy and feeling fine five year old.
When we finally got back in to the recovery room to see Owen, he was in a state. He was moaning, crying and pretty much inconsolable. I felt really bad for him because there was nothing I could do. I gave him the Star Wars dolls I bought for him but he barely noticed.
They told me I could crawl in bed with him, which seemed to please him. Although I wouldn't want this for anyone's kid, certainly not my own, it's nice when your kid needs you.
We gave him water from a straw and he started taking it once his crying started to slow. I think he wanted the water but couldn't really ask for it yet.
At some point, he started to come to and even asked for the apple juice box they had sitting on a shelf. He drank that as as he started to get some colour back, the nurse offered him a popsicle. He was all over that!
He finally cuddled up to the dolls I brought him.
After the popsicle, he seemed to feel a lot better. It was both confusing and misleading. I mean clearly he was still hopped up on pain meds and anesthesia.
He got to ride in a wheel chair to the car. Look how tiny he looks in that thing!
And he napped like a two year old. He hasn't napped in at least two years!
We've been sitting around a lot, Owen requires extra lovin' this week and I think could use a visit from some friends.