Dear Jack,

I am hoping that this post will be about something that you will not remember much of.  I am hoping that we did it young enough to fix the problem and to ensure no traumatic memories, but I guess time will tell.  

A year ago at your 2 year old well check, your pediatrician commented on how big your tonsils were.  He said on the scale from 1 to 5, yours were a 4+.  You have been my healthiest child, and really I have not had to look down your throat much at all, so I had no idea.  But the doctor showed me how big they were and suggested that they probably will need to come out, and that they don't usually do it until 3 years of age.  Sure enough, when I took you back in to the doctor for your 3 year old well check this last May, your pediatrician said that they were large enough to warrant removal, and he referred me to the ENT group up at Primary Children's, where your grandma B works and asked that I take you. 

To illustrate how big they really were, a few weeks later, you came down with an ear infection, and your dad took you in after hours to a pediatrician who is in the same group as our regular pediatrician, but who was not familiar with you.  Your dad showed me the sheet that the doctor gave him at the office and it said under diagnosis: 1. Right ear infection and, 2. HUGE tonsils, just as I have typed it.  Grandma B herself got a good look at them just before surgery, and I could tell by her face that she didn't picture them that big.

In July, we met with Dr. Meier at Primary Children's who was again surprised at how big they were when you finally let him look in your mouth.  He commented that because they are so large, it should be fairly easy to get them out, and the surgery date was set.

To say that I was was anxious the night before/morning of  your surgery would be understatement, but anxiety is what I unfortunately do best.  I knew that you had no idea what was about to happen and the pain that you were soon to be in, and it broke my heart.  My biggest concern was how you were not able to eat breakfast the morning of, and nothing to drink after 8:15 a.m.  I was prepared that you would cry that you were hungry or thirsty, but you really didn't ask me for anything.  I was so glad.  That made leaving in the morning and the time at the hospital not so bad.

Grandpa and Grandma B were so sweet to help us that day.  They arrived at the hospital just after we did, and Grandpa took your brothers and sister out to breakfast and then back to his house.  Grandma stayed with me for support, and I am so glad she did. 

By time we checked in, played with a few toys, we were taken back and examined by the nurse, putting jammies on you, and were getting instructions for surgery.  You amazed me by taking everything in stride, and showing no fear.  Sometimes you can be so stubborn, and I was mostly afraid you would not cooperate, or have a melt down when I had to leave you.  But, you surprised me, and you were lead away in your wagon, pulled by the anesthesiologist, the nurse, and her iPad without any tears or difficulty.  I was told that you did everything perfectly and without a fuss, which made me proud.

I was not prepared, however, for your state waking up from surgery.  I knew that you would have pain, of course, but I assumed that they would have given you some pain meds to make your wake-up easier on you.  Only one of us was able to come back to the shared room where you were still sleeping, and so it was me that got to come.  There I met you and the sweet nurse.  You were still sleeping soundly, even though we only had a thin curtain separating us from other post-surgery screaming children.  Then you woke up, and the fear and pain that showed on your face was almost more than I could bear.  It looked like, "What happened to me?" and of course I felt responsible.  It took so long for you to calm down, it was probably only 20 minutes, but it felt like hours.  Nothing I was saying or doing was seeming to help.  You seemed to almost not be able to see me, and it scared me.  I really don't know how your Aunt Erin and other moms that have children who stay at the hospital for weeks or months on end do it.  I hope to never have to experience that again.

The nurse quickly got you an root-beer icee and then some liquid Lortab.  You drank the icee well, and it seemed to calm you down some, but the Lortab is what finally calmed you to sleep.  We were finally moved into your own little recovery room, where we let you keep on sleeping.  Grandma B was finally allowed to come back and see you and she helped me get you ready to go home.

You awoke much better in the recovery room, and hardly any tears were shed that time.  We met Grandpa B and the kids back downstairs, and piled once more in the van to go home.  You seemed to have your appetite back in force, and pointed to the vending machine on the way out of the hospital.  Grandma B bought you the M&Ms that you have your eye on, and I was very surprised to see you eat the whole package on the way home.  I was starving myself and stopped to get me a burger and fries.  You even wanted some of that, but the fries were too hot for me to give you, and so I just gave you most of my top bun, which you did eat.  After we got home you asked for a bowl of ice cream and you ate that too.

You tricked me, you really did.  I was thinking that you were feeling so good, and the worst was behind us.  However, later that night your anesthesia must of worn off because you clearly were in pain.  You were not eating, drinking, or even smiling.  We tried to give you more Lortab, but you didn't want to take it, and you held your breath instead.  You ended up going blue despite our efforts to blow in your face to get you to breathe, and had one of those seziure-looking spells that Keaton used to have when he was your age.  Finally, you regained consciousness after my hand was on the phone ready to call 911, but you still had some Lortab in your mouth and when you took a breath, it went down the wrong tube, causing you to choke and struggle for air.  Needless to say, me, your dad, and your Grandma and Grandpa Hunsaker who came by to see you, were pretty scared. 

After that, and a discussion with Grandma B and Carolyn, I decided not to give you any more Lortab since you disliked it so much.  That night and the following day, you would not open your mouth to talk or anything, and I noticed you were drooling, not even swallowing your own spit.  However, as much as you would take Motrin and Tylenol for me before, you refuse it just as much as the Lortab, and still, 4 days into it, you are crying and not cooperating with every dose.  If I could take you to the pediatrician and just give you a shot in the butt instead I would have done it a long time ago, because I hate giving you meds.  You cry before and for at least 20 minutes following, which I still can't understand.  No amount of reasoning that it will make you feel better is working.

The last few days, you are getting a lot more snuggle time, naps, ice cream, Slurpees (pretty much anything you want to eat right now since you are refusing everything for the most part), and lots of Mickey Mouse on Netflix.  For the most part, you are doing better but everyday is up and down, and I still feel terrible about how much pain you are probably in.  After surgery, Dr. Meier talked with me and Grandma B and told us the surgery went well, and that not only were your tonsils huge, but your adenoids were huge as well.  He was glad that you got them out.  I think it was the right move as well, that Sam won't be moaning anymore how loud you snore, you will probably eat better, sleep better, and was told you might even grow faster now that you have more oxygen coming in.  As I said before, time will tell.  I just know that I love you dearly and want the very best for you.  I can't wait for this all to be a thing of the past.  I love you so much buddy.

Love, 
Mom