Say Aaaaaahhhhh

Keith has been one sick puppy.  He has had his tonsils in such a twist, he has missed just at 23 days of school in his last period class.

The doctor finally said, "Let's yank 'em."

So, we went to the surgery center and I watched them roll my baby away on a gurney.  After a bunch of nervous twitches in my seat, some pacing back and forth and storming heaven with prayer, a nurse finally came out to tell me he was in recovery and was doing well.

I went back to see him, and he was groggy, whiny and pitiful.  He made me cry.

We got him home and poured him into his bed.  He slept for several days in a row, waking up only when I shoved a spoon of medicine in his mouth.

Around the clock, I woke him every three hours to make sure we stayed ahead of the pain.  And it worked.  The day after surgery, the child asked for and ate a Wendy's hamburger.  Hubby and I felt awful!  We concluded that he had felt so utterly miserable prior to the surgery, that this was actually preferable for him.

Three days after the surgery, we ran out of the fantabulous narcotics the doctor had prescribed.  While Keith was really feeling better, he had really been leaning on his meds as a crutch.  Without the security of the meds, he spiraled.

Suddenly, he was waaaayyyyy whiny, his throat was killing him, he was going to "die".  By the time Easter rolled around, I was ready to kill him.

He is now to the point where he is happily bopping around... until you ask him how he's feeling.  Then he remembers he is supposed to be sick, and he crumples into a pitiful little ball of "oooooowwwww...."

If we make it through this, I will be handsomely rewarded:  Hubby goes in for surgery to repair a severely deviated septum Thursday...

The fun just never stops...