For the last two nights, Simon and I have gone to bed in a room that is not in our house. Both nights, while laying him down, I've had to do battle with the cords that are attached to him, being careful not to get us bound up in a hopeless tangle. One cord carries the fluids into his system that he refused to take through the normal route. The other keeps the be-smocked ladies at the desk outside our door informed of his heart rate. He hates both of these new appendages with the fury of a cheated child, and has tried repeatedly to yank them both out.
We've passed two difficult nights in this hospital and are now on our third day. On the first morning, they took his tonsils out. That part was planned, as was the first overnight stay. What was not planned was the allergic reaction he had to one of the pain meds used during surgery. This was the same med for which they had given us a prescription to manage his pain throughout the week following surgery so he could do things like eat and drink. Benadryl cleared that up, but then we were left with the question of what to do about his pain so that he wouldn't dehydrate and end up back in the hospital. He ate and drank fine the day of surgery, but hardly ingested a thing the following day. An allergy specialist was brought in, and he suggested we run some test doses of some other pain meds to see if he could handle them. The plan was to give him incrementally larger doses every half hour, all adding up to what would be a full dose, and monitor the outcome. Unfortunately, the nursing staff fucked up the timing on the doses, which fucked up the test, which meant it needed to be repeated the next day. We'd be staying another night. They had already taken his IV out, so it had to be replaced. I got the honor of holding him still while the nurses did the deed. One shitty surprise after another.
That brings me to the present. At the moment, he's asleep in my arms and I'm typing this on my phone. We're in the middle of the med test and so far all is well. He's drinking and eating again in small amounts. He'll get the full dose a few minutes from now, and if he's still in good shape, then we can blow on out of here. Having the family co-located like this has been difficult to say the least, sucked balls to say a little more. I have a newfound sympathy for folks that have to do this shit long term. I've seen a few kids here that look like they'll probably be here a while.
Hopefully, by the time you read this, we'll all be together again.
--Posted from phone, so forgive typos or formatting weirdness. Thanks, you're the best.