Two weeks from today we have Reese scheduled for tubes. Surgery—actual surgery. I can’t believe it. My C-section was the only surgery I’ve ever had. I know, kids get tubes all the time, but Reese is my kid. My only kid. The light of my life. My mini-me.
Lofton and I were 100% certain the ENT would recommend the tubes. I’ve done hours of research, lots of talking to friends and family, and am confident we are making the best choice for us, the best choice for Reese, and the best choice in doctors.
Still, I’m nervous. And scared. And anxious. And when we talked about putting my sweet boy to sleep—I freaked. Totally freaked out.
Our other options really were not viable options at all. First we could “wait and see” if the fluid dissipates on its own in three to six months. Or we could do a hearing analysis to see if/how severely his hearing has been impacted by having the fluid for three plus months. If the hearing analysis showed damage we could then decide on tubes.
Basically, we need tubes-- like yesterday.
And so, on February 4th I’m going to put on my big girl panties. {HA!!! Who are we kidding? I’ve already called my mama to come for reinforcement.}
Post surgery we are going to be sent to Auburn for a hearing study, simply to assess if there has been any damage to his hearing. If there has been, both Dr. Glaze and Dr. Whatley feel certain we have caught this early enough to quickly repair any problems.
All of this really is such an “if” situation. We know he needs tubes, we don’t know “if” he has hearing damage. In all likelihood he doesn’t talk because he doesn’t want to. He is stubborn as a mule. And ornery to boot.
Yesterday, said sweet child, screamed for twenty plus minutes while writhing on the floor. Did he want food? Me? Juice? Toys? I really couldn't tell you. The spell passed and he was back to his old self. Mule boy.
Oh the joys of toddler-hood :)
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