Tale of a Tonsillectomy

Thanks for the prayers for Victor's surgery!!  We are now about 30 hours post-op, and he seems to be heading steadily toward recovery (knock on wood!! :). 

Now I will tell a little story about how it all went down, beginning with the day before surgery...

The morning prior to our scheduled procedure, the phone was ringing off the hook.  The hospital was calling for pre-registration, final scheduling, etc.  About 11:00am, the surgeon's office called to make sure we had done the required pre-op bloodwork.  Oops. 

Apparently, I had forgotten that minor detail, so we dropped everything and started scrambling for the door.  We needed to make a speedy trip to the outpatient lab at the hospital.  All of us scrambled, that is, except for Victor.  He heard me say, 'blood draw,'  and firmly planted himself under the couch, clinging to the leg for dear life. 

We were pressed for time, to say the least, and I really wanted him to cooperate without adding trauma to the whole ordeal.  So, I did what came naturally:  offered bribes.  Good ones. 

"Come on, buddy," I said, "cooperate and I'll get you a DS."  He didn't bite.

"How about a W*ii?" was my next maneuver.  He shook his head. 

Desperate now, I came up with, "How about both!"  Still, no deal. 

Finally, I pulled out the big gun.  "I will get you a newt.  We'll go straight to the pet store.  Today."  He smiled and emerged from his hiding place. 

The ammunition: Sam the newt and milkshakes.  Who exactly was the victim of manipulation, I now wonder...

Can't convince him that perhaps newts do not appreciate affection. 

For me, this is too close for comfort.  I had previously vowed that we would never have reptiles or amphibians as pets...

As a sidenote, I spent last weekend stocking my freezer with prepared meals: chicken for tortillas, pasta sauce, sloppy joes, beef in red wine gravy, and pulled pork.  The sight of my well-stocked freezer is so comforting that I can't bring myself to eat any of it!!  Pathetic but true. 

Snuggling aids recovery.

So, we survived the blood draw thanks to some clever nurses and the forementioned 'gifts.'  The next day, we got up before the crack of dawn to make our way to the hospital.  We had asked Vic several times if he had any questions, and he assured us he did not.  At 4:30am that morning, he was finally ready for his Q and A session.  It was a long day. 

We checked in and sat down in the waiting area.  To distract, we read articles on flying in National Geogr*phic.  When the surgical nurse came out and called his name, he responded,"Nope, that's not my name."  Poor kid.  In the pre-op area, he hid under a chair in his hospital gown.  I coaxed him out by snuggling with him on the bed, but then he hid under the blanket.  He neither smiled nor spoke to anyone.  It was heartbreaking.  The only words he uttered were to the surgeon: "Can I see my tonsils?"  Dr. H promised to save them for him to see after surgery. 

I took no pictures immediately post-op.  We don't necessarily want to remember that phase.  But, we did get to see those gigantic tonsils in a jar.  My husband took a picture if anyone's interested.  Some of you lucky folks probably received that via phone message. 

After 2 fairly rough nights, the pain levels seem to be dropping and the energy levels are improving (see above).  He is supposed to 'avoid vigorous activity' for 2 weeks.  That may be our greatest challenge.