Yes, it was outpatient surgery, "minor" surgery, if you will, but that begs the question: is any surgery performed on your 18-month-old son and heir "minor?" I would say not.
Dexy suffers, as many children do, from inadequate eustachian tube development. (His ear canal-thingy is too short.) This causes him to get fluid buildup behind his eardrum, which causes him to lose hearing and delays speech development. It also makes him more likely to get ear infections. To remedy this situation, the doctors cut tiny holes in the eardrum, drain the fluid, and place eensy weensy tubes in the holes to allow future fluid buildup to drain. (See image below):
If you're anything like me, hearing this caused you to nod wisely, then hyperventilate and pass out. They intend to CUT MY SON'S EARDRUM to fix some piddly little ear infection? Really? After all of the literature you've given me telling me how I will go to jail for child endangerment if I use a Q-tip in his ear, you're going to CUT MY SON'S EARDRUM to fix his ears?
Fortunately, I'm married to one of the most level-headed men in the world, Sven (see image below):
Sven wisely reminded me that the doctor knew what he was talking about (since, technically, a degree in music doesn't make me an expert on the ear), and we had this same procedure done on Princess over two years ago, and she's fine.
All would have been well, except the doctor continued his sentence. They also planned to remove my son's androids. (See image below):
Androids are part of the "useless system," a group of organs that exist solely to become infected so that surgeons can practice procedures that end in "-ectomy." In addition to the androids, this little-studied group of organs includes the tonsils, the appendix, the spleen, the glossary, the nostril hair, the bibliography, the third nipple, and Perez Hilton (see image below):
{Edit: I have just been informed by Sven that the doctor actually removed Dexy's adenoids, as pictured below:
This means his androids are still intact, exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life and new civilizations, boldly going where no one has gone before. I apologize for the confusion.}
As I have learned in recent years, part of the price one pays for quality medical care is time. To prove you are really serious about obtaining whatever procedure you have been instructed to receive, you are required to arrive a ridiculous amount of time before the procedure and sit, useless, quivering with tension, until the idea of cutting open your eardrum seems pleasant. The amount of time you will spend waiting is directly proportional to the seriousness of the procedure. We were instructed to report at 7:15 for Dexy's scheduled 9:15 procedure, an outpatient surgery that actually took about 30 minutes to perform. We then had to wait in recovery until Dexy's doctor had time to discharge us, so we actually left the hospital around 12:30. I consider us lucky. If they had decided to remove his tonsils, we would have been required to report sometime in March.
But seriously, the hospital (see image below) was great.
Texas Children's Hospital is truly top-notch. Our doctor, who I will call Dr. Donuts, was a gentleman and very reassuring. Proving to me that we made the right choice, he called us at home around 9:00 to make sure Dexy was doing well. That makes up for at least 4 hours of useless waiting.
Also wonderful was the small toy Sven purchased at the hospital gift shop to "cheer the kid up." (See image below):
(When I say "small," I am lying. This stuffed dog is substantially larger than Dexy. He refused to let it go once he regained consciousness, meaning I carried him, clutching this giant dog, through the hospital and to the car in Houston humidity. Also ironic is that this dog was purchased at the insistence of Sven, who gives me the fish eye every time I buy something for the kids, because "we don't have room for any more stuff." I called him a softie, to his face, and he didn't deny it.)
The surgery went well. Unfortunately, the doctor found that the adenoids were larger than he expected, and the infection around them was more severe than the thought, so Dexy was in quite a bit more pain than is typical for these sorts of procedures, necessitating additional morphine. Also, the adenoid removal makes his breath smell like nothing I've ever encountered, and that is saying something. However, in signature Dexy style, he has been playing and babbling some tonight and has consumed respectable amounts of applesauce, vanilla ice cream, and macaroni & cheese.
It has been quite a day. I'm off to bed, next to my snoring, stinky little prince. Our hope is that in a few short days we will have a healthier, happier Dexy, and thus a healthier, happier family. Have a great summer, everybody.
