Addie update, for the folks
Eric talked to Addie’s ENT doctor today, and he said her adenoids were “huge,” her tonsils “protruding,” and one of her sinuses blocked. We’ll try to get her into surgery this week, but it will most likely be next week. We’ll keep you posted.
Addie has a few favorite phrases right now: “A couple of weeks ago…” “Sometimes…” and “Sure do.” These get used in almost every sentence Addie speaks right now, whether she understands what they mean or not.
We were on the way to the ear/nose/throat specialist this morning, and Addie, quiet for a few moments, finally pipes up.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Addie?”
“A couple of weeks ago, Daddy lost his mind.”
I almost spit out my coffee.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Addie?”
“Where did he lose his mind?”
Which entailed an overly long discussion of what “to lose one’s mind” might mean, and when we say it. It also led to a discussion of how long “a couple of weeks ago” is, as I believe I told her just yesterday that her father was losing his mind. Glad that stuck with her.
Anyway, the bad news is that it looks like Addie’s a prime candidate for having her tonsils and adenoids removed. She’s got hearing loss in one ear, and fluid for miles in there. She has to have a CAT scan later this week, and then probably surgery. I feel a little sick even writing that, and am trying hard not to imagine what she’s going to look like, cotton packing and swelling and all.
At first, I felt like I was taking all this in stride. It’s a pretty minor surgery, after all, and she’s a tough kid. But in my head I keep piling up the list of things on our plate right now: Eric needs a deviated septum fixed or he’s going to snore us out of house and home. Addie has this surgery. And, I don’t want to impinge on anyone’s privacy here, but I will say that a cherished member of our extended clan is fighting a second bout with cancer. Like I said, a lot on the plate.
I thought I was staying fairly calm about everything, which is not my m.o. Usually, I make a big drama out of everything, make it all about me. But I haven’t really been doing this lately, and was sort of congratulating myself about staying relatively even-keel. And, checking in now, I’m breathing a lot, and focusing on my love for those around me, and just doing the daily stuff. No huge panic attacks or meltdowns on the horizon.
But this stuff appears to be working itself out in my sleep. I’ve been grinding my teeth for a few years now, and the dentist keeps harping on me to get a night guard, but it’s $350.00, and our insurance doesn’t cover it (those a-holes). I figured it could wait–we just shelled out an arm and a leg to get our dilapidated old Subaru back on the road, and we have to spend a lot to get the house on the market, so I just didn’t get it done. But last night I discovered there is a chunk of one of my molars missing–ground off in my sleep.
I’m tempted to just throw my hands up and say, “Add it to the list! Get in line!” But the whole martyrdom thing isn’t so appealing. I was telling someone about Addie’s surgery today, and they said, “Phew! I thought you were going to say she had something much worse.” Which reminded me there are different ways to view all these things, and to view them as catastrophes is one way of going about it, though that way involves much gnashing (or grinding) of teeth and pulling of hair. Or, I could view them as just the stuff of life, opportunities to look at my loved ones with fresh eyes, with renewed appreciation that they are in my life–whatever the circumstances may be.
A couple weeks back, we had a parent-teacher conference for Addie at her preschool. We pretty much sat there and glowed, which is sort of silly, right? I mean, Addie is completely wonderful, but what are they going to say to the parent of preschoolers? Your kid is destined for a life of crime because she can’t sit still at circle time? You’re headed for many years of misery because she can’t fingerpaint? Still, it was nice to hear the good things the teacher had to say about Addie.
But at the end of the conference, Addie’s teacher said she had noticed that, at naptime, Addie was sort of a mouth-breather, snored some and seemed to have difficulty breathing. This, combined with the enormous amount of snot and drool that Addie produces, had the teacher wondering if something wasn’t going on health-wise. Maybe the adenoids? she thought. And, too, Addie seems to have problems with “spatial awareness” now and then–seeing a table, and then running smack into it.
A light seemed to go on for Eric and I at that moment–maybe all this stuff was connected, the toddlerspit and the snot and the clumsiness.
I took Addie to her pediatrician last week, and he thought they might be connected, too. He prescribed some nasal spray that might help if the problem is allergies, and Addie has been a very big girl about having it squirted up her nose every night. The doctor also said that if we noticed Addie having trouble breathing at night–having apnia, or gasping–we should take her to an ear/nose/throat (ENT) specialist. Having a bunch of drainage might be causing some inner ear difficulties, which could mess up her balance, too.
We’ve been doing the spray, and we’ve noticed the apnia, so we’re on our way to a specialist soon. But what’s going on, we’re wondering? Is Addie allergic to the cats? The dog? What are we going to do with them if she is? Does she need to have her adenoids or tonsils removed? What big babies are we going to be if she has to have surgery?
Does this mean the mystery of toddlerspit may soon be solved?
Nah. Where there are toddlers, there is spit. Stay tuned.
