Tonsil Terror

Nick just left with the kids for the next hour. He made me promise to not do any work while he’s gone.  I’m lying here breaking chunks of Kentucky Bourbon Bellavitano cheese off the block with my bare hands like a heathen. I’m tired down to my bones. It feels like I’ve been sprinting for the last five endless weeks of “sick season”. But, we hit a major milestone this afternoon. Today marked the first time in 8 days that Zary has eaten a meal without screaming like a banshee. Mina didn’t need hearing protection to eat lunch next to her today and that in itself is a miracle. 

I got my tonsils out when I was 23. I have also delivered three children. I swear to you I would rather go through labor again than ever have another tonsillectomy. So, when Zary’s ENT told us that her tonsils had to go, I felt like I was reasonably prepared for how awful the recovery would be. 

False. 

I simply cannot overexaggerate the absolute SH** SHOW this has been. 

At 23, you know that taking medicine is going to hurt but you have to suffer through it to feel better in the long run. 5-year-olds have no such sense of reason. At 23, you know that your body needs extra sleep to recover. 5-year-olds think naps are punishment. At 23, you want to cry and scream from the pain, but you know it will only make it worse; So, you fight through silently. 5-year-olds lack that level of self-control. 

The first half of recovery started out calm enough. Hazy from meds, tired from surgery, too exhausted to fuss. The real fun of the tonsillectomy roared in suddenly on day 7. Sick of smoothies. Sick of popsicles. Starving for real food… but suddenly everything hurt. And continued to hurt for 8 more days.  We anticipated intense crying. The screaming was an unwelcome surprise. Zary’s ear-splitting shrieks started from the pain, but quickly evolved into screams of fatigue, frustration, hunger, and downright anger. She was pissed at the whole situation.  Zary’s hollering got so intense by Tuesday that Mina didn’t even want to be around her. I had to parent Zary in one room, Mina on the other side of the house, and somehow juggle Maisy along the way. Nick and I took turns trying to feed Z because the screaming was too mentally taxing to suffer through a full meal with her alone.  If you’re one of the neighbors who saw me on the front porch punching air around lunch time on Wednesday… well, you probably can tell how badly I needed a break. 

It’s been pretty interesting to watch the three girls’ relationships evolve through the chaos these past few weeks.  Zary and Mina have always been the best of friends and most wonderful playmates.  Zary is a doting and adoring big sister to Maisy. Maisy is fascinated with both sisters and craves their attention. But aside from general curiosity and demonstrations of affection just to get praise (she’s our street smarts kid), Mina has never really liked Maisy. She tells us this, bluntly. “Mama, I’m not really a big fan of that baby.”

But as we trudged through the last few weeks and Mina got sick of Zary’s constant screeching, I saw her slowly gravitate toward Maisy instead. The kisses got more frequent. She started sharing her toys. Hugs were free flowing. I’m not the only one who noticed the attention shift. Zarrin sensed her BFF pulling away, and after a bout of uncontrollable screaming and arm slinging at breakfast one morning, she tried to play with Mina. My feral second child shouted “NO!” and chomped down on Zary’s arm. Hard. Yes, of course I brought her straight to time out. But can I be honest? I think we all kind of understood where Mina was coming from…

Maisy, alarmingly, has not been too terribly affected. I think if anything she’s been fascinated. This favorite human being of hers was now making all these interesting new noises. And they were high pitched. And loud. And VERY fun to imitate. Maisy spent one full day trying to figure out how to hit Zary’s piercing level… she sounded like a [very undertrained] soprano belting out Mozart’s Queen of the Night. 

Zary is finally coming around from the surgery and acting a teeny little bit saner as of yesterday. Hilariously, she had the gall to complain about how loud Maisy’s opera performance was. I had to remind Z that this was all her fault. 

If your child ever gets pegged for a tonsillectomy, give me a call before surgery. We can discuss meal plan ideas and recovery tips and I can help estimate how many cases of wine you and your spouse will need to survive.