MOUSE IN THE HOUSE

Ever since Aleita's tonsilectomy, she has undergone many positive changes. She sleeps much better at night and wakes much more rested. In the months leading up to her surgery, she was becoming quite the loud little sleeper, and we think, perhaps bordering on sleep apnea. Since her surgery, she has been happier and actually more obedient, we think largely due to the fact that she isn't tired all the time.

Since her surgery, Aleita also doesn't have problems at meals anymore with her food. Again, in the few months leading up to her surgery, Aleita had developed issues when eating. If she took a little bit too big of a bite, she would gag on her food because of the size of her tonsils. Since the surgery, her healthy appetite is there with no more gagging problems.

One of the strangest things that has occurred since her surgery has been her voice change. After a few days when she starting talking more following her surgery, we noticed that Aleita's voice was several pitches higher than it had previously been. I actually had never noticed how deep her voice was until after her tonsilectomy. Now we feel like we are living with a cartoon character at times. Her voice seems almost so artificially high that it seems as though she is trying to be funny - except that this is her voice now. It is taking some getting used to - - it is sometimes even difficult to understand what she is saying due to her new intonation. The doctor said that her tonsils were probably pressing on her vocal cords, which caused her voice to be different than it should have been. With the tonsils gone, we have what is now her "real voice," which seems to us to be an abnormally high pitched squeak. As unbelievable as it may seem, our tough-as-nails, Power Ranger & Spiderman lovin' little four year old now has the dialect of a little cartoon mouse.

THE MISS TOUGH STUFF UPDATE

Little Miss Tough Stuff hit the wall about 6PM last night. I think the drugs they gave her at the hospital finally started to wear off and she began feeling the full force effects of her tonsilectomy. Still, she did pretty well. She complained a bit of a sore throat, but not too much. She mostly just laid around and looked a little pitiful. At one point, she and Maggie had been sitting at the kitchen table coloring, and then when I looked again, she was gone. I found her laying on the living room floor, convalescing with Dempsey. I made chicken and dumplings for dinner last night and shredded the chicken really well for her, and she ate a respectable amount, considering.

She did wake up once in the night last night and require some drugs. Tylenol with codeine is a good thing. I also found out that a small adult can fit in a toddler bed with the actual toddler (note that I did not say "comfortably.") I woke up after laying in bed with her for about an hour, finding that all my extremities had gone to sleep. After removing myself from her bed as gracefully as possible (considering that I had no feeling in my hands or feet), I was able to make my way back to my own bed and sleep the rest of the night peacefully.

Aleita was up this morning about 6AM. She isn't feeling on top of the world, but still she is doing considerably better than I imagined she would be. She has already had a bath and even tolerated having her hair combed and put in her afro-puffs. She really didn't want much for breakfast this morning, so we settled on an orange popsicle and a glass of water. "Clingy" is not usually a word that appears in the same sentence as Aleita, but today, she doesn't allow herself to get more than five feet from me. I am going to go take advantage of my little lovey-dovey while I can, so we are going to go lay on the couch and watch "Finding Nemo."

The picture below shows Aleita being aided in her recovery, courtesy of friend Diana who brought by her homemade creation of "the world's largest popsicle."

MISS TOUGH STUFF

Aleita had her tonsils out this morning. We had to be at the hospital at 6AM to start the pre-op stuff. At 7:30AM, the nurse wheeled her back to the operating room. She held my hand all the way to the doors where we had to part as she was wheeled along on the gurney looking way too small for that big bed. We then gave her hugs and kisses and told her we would see her soon. I thought she might get upset about us leaving her, but she was ok - - she had her little blanket and her beloved little dog, Crusty, with her. (Crusty was aptly named because she got him when she was a baby and would chew on him all the time, thus, Crusty.) In actuality, she was better than I was. I trusted the doctors and nurses to take good care of her. Still, it was hard to leave my baby.

In about a half an hour, the receptionist in the surgery waiting room came and got us and told us that she was out of surgery. The doctor came and spoke with us and said that all went well. He said her tonsils were huge, but that the operation went without a hitch. We waited about twenty more minutes in the waiting area, then were able to go back and see her.

She was doing that sob that starts way down in your body and makes the whole body shake. It was one of those that it takes you a few minutes to stop doing, even after you've stopped crying. She reached for my hand, and I asked the nurse in my nicest do-it-now voice to please put the bed rail down so I could get to her. The first thing she said to me in her weak, little not-quite-awake voice was, "I want to go home now." She wanted me to crawl in the bed beside her as much as I wanted to be right there with her. She climbed on my lap and within a few minutes, her sobbing ceased and she fell asleep laying on me. Since I got up at 4:30AM this morning, it didn't take me long to follow suit. We slept in the bed for about an hour until Rev. Ellen came by to check on her.

After that, her nurse came by and told us that she had to drink a certain amount before she would be allowed to go home. Within about an hour and a half, Aleita had drank all the required amount (and made three trips to the potty.) After the third trip back from the bathroom, you could not even tell that this child had had any form of surgery that morning. Chris had told her before she left for the bathroom the last time that once she got back, one of the ladies (the nurses) would come and let her go home. She came hopping along as we walked back, making sure to only hop on the blue tiles. Once we reached her bed, she refused to sit in it, instead peeking around her curtain and calling out to the nurses at the station, "hey lady! come let me go home!"

As the nurse was removing her IV and giving us discharge instructions and prescriptions, Aleita said, "I'm hungry - let's go eat breakfast." On the way from the hospital, she insisted on calling both sets of grandparents and chatted them up. We dropped the prescription off at Walgreen's, but it was 45 minutes before it would be ready. I had told her yesterday that once she had her tonsils out, she could have pancakes. She said, "let's go get pancakes!" And so we did. My daughter who only hours earlier had had a tonsilectomy got to go to the Cracker Barrel. She ate an entire pancake and two scrambled eggs.

She fell asleep on the way home and is now napping upstairs. They say that "only the strong survive." If that is true, then I have no doubt that Little Miss Tough Stuff will live forever.