Tonsillectomy.

  A few months ago, Dusty and I sat in bed and listened as Sadie sawed logs down the hallway...waking herself up from time to time because her snoring was so loud. I have looked down her throat on occasion, and couldn't help but notice that her tonsils were practically the size of golf balls. We decided it was maybe time to see a doctor and find out if it was necessary to remove them so she could sleep more peacefully.     I scheduled the appointment with her physician on post, and when he looked in her throat he about lost his balance.    "Wow. Those are big, aren't they?"    Yeah, doc. They really are.   He referred her to a German ENT specialist. He gave us the "go" for surgery, and the crazy process of having surgery done in another country ensued. Before we knew it, it was January 4th, and Sadie and I went dark and early to the hospital.   Oh wait...let me back up. January 3rd...I try and take a picture of the ginormous tonsils. I wasn't all that successful. But here's the best I got.


Now where was I...oh yes, we find the pediatric wing of the hospital and "check in." And by that I mean that I said we were here for surgery, gave Sadie's name, and the nurse who knew hardly any English (I'm not mad, I understand this is Germany, but on a day like this you just want to be clear on what is going on...) took us back to the room. Seriously, they didn't check my ID or anything. I could have been Suzie Crumpleshorts for all they knew. Things are so different here.   Anyway, they had Sadie change into a hospital gown, and to say she was thrilled about the experience would be a flat out lie. She was nervous.


Come on...just one little smile?


I guess it probably is a lot for a four year old to take in.





And here's the part where I wish I had kept a journal about this experience. Because it was less than ideal. We waited for a while after Sadie changed, then the nurse brought her some juice that made her sleepy. After a while, she came back, tried to explain what would happen next (though I really did not understand what she was telling me), and then all of a sudden they were wheeling Sadie's bed to the surgery wing of the hospital. I was walking by her side (she was still awake), and we finally made it to some big double doors. The nurse said, "Stay here five minutes." Or something like that. And then Sadie was gone. All of a sudden I was in a panic. Wait...did they just take her back for surgery? Why am I not with her? I didn't even tell her goodbye, or that everything would be fine, or ANYTHING. So I went to the lady at the reception desk and asked her (in German) if she spoke English. "Nein." Dang it. I tried to explain the situation. She brought in reinforcements. After a whole lot of confusion, I told her never mind and went to find a seat somewhere. But I just couldn't sit there. I was a train wreck thinking about Sadie in there without me. So I got back up, and the same lady at the front desk saw me. She waved me over, opened the double doors that they had taken Sadie into, and lead me to a doctor.    He said, "So...what is the problem? You have a sore throat?"    Oh my goodness. Are you kidding me. I want America.   I explained that my daughter had been taken back for surgery, and I wanted to be in the room with her. He told me I just needed to wait.   Bah.   So I waited. And let's be honest...I cried. This is where I'm not quite sure on the details. I think a few minutes later the two nurses who had pushed Sadie came back out. They told me to follow them back to Sadie's room to wait. I remember going back to her room and sitting there by myself for a while. And then I guess they came and got me when Sadie was done, because I remember walking back to the room again by Sadie's side...blood on her sheets, pillow, and face. Huge IV needle in her hand. She was still asleep but started to wake up as we walked. Poor sweet girl. I felt so bad for her. And I wasn't even there when it all happened to tell her it would be okay.   After she woke up, she was pretty groggy. She asked me about what was on her hand. She asked me if they took out her tonsils, because she said she could still feel them back there. She kept sticking her hands down her throat and saying they were still there. Which was partially true. They used a laser technology and basically shaved them down instead of completely removing them, so there was still part of them back there.


It wasn't until she started playeing with her ponies that I realized she was more than just groggy. She was actually seeing double. She was holding one pony, but her other hand would reach out to grab another one in the air. And when her hands finally met, she thought her two ponies (Coconut Cream) were stuck together, and she was trying to pull them apart. Let's be honest, it was sad. She was so convinced there were two.
  And there may only be a small handful of people who enjoy the video version of the story I just told, but here it is anyway. Dusty actually has a really hard time watching this video. It makes him so sad. We ended up being in the hospital for several hours longer than I thought we would (at a consultation the day before, I was told we would be there for about an hour start to finish...dang language barrier), and I hadn't brought much to entertain us, or my cell phone to call Dusty (who had the boys, but needed to go to work that day). I pressed the nurse button to ask if I could use the phone. I had to do this several times before I got a nurse who understood me. But when I called, Dusty didn't answer. It started to feel very isolated in that room. There were three other people in there with us (two on the other side of a dividing wall) and they had all kinds of visitors and help from nurses. It felt like everyone was avoiding us because they didn't know what to do with us or how to talk to us. And did you know that you have to pay money to watch TV at the hospital? Another "wishing for America" moment. This all sounds very pity-party. It's not that. I just want to remember some of the frustrating parts about living here as well as the awesome stuff. But let me tell you, when Dusty and the boys walked into our room unexpectedly it was like a little piece of heaven, and all was well again.    Eventually the doctor came in to examine Sadie before we went home. I looked over his shoulder and her tonsils looked as big as ever. I asked him if he thought they looked big still, and he said "Yeah, I was thinking that." To which I replied "Are you the one who did the surgery?" I was a little confused, and thinking he better have done it right the first time because I really didn't want to go through this again. He said it was probably just swelling. Sadie snored the first few nights the same as always. But luckily it was just swelling, and she doesn't snore anymore. She didn't even have any pain afterwards. I had stocked up on ice cream and Popsicles, and she didn't need any of it. We ate a Popsicle as a matter of principle, but it wasn't even necessary. Truly an answer to prayer.