Does the doctor say it's time for tubes? Here's what happened to us.
Ah, I'll never forget Theo's first ear infection diagnoses. It was last September, the weather was beautiful and I was totally wigged out. An ear infection? That needs antibiotics? That feels like a big deal.
Turns out it's not. Because what I couldn't anticipate is that one was just the first of about a dozen ear infections that we'd be dealing with over the next six months. Yes, really. We averaged about two a month. Once he had a raging double ear infection, and then got another one 24 hours after finishing his 10-day round of antibiotics.
Whenever Theo caught a head cold -- which was all the time, he's a daycare baby, after all -- it would inevitably turn into an ear infection. The pediatrician tried one kind of antibiotic, then another, then finally a super power injection of antibiotics usually only brought out to treat more serious bacterial infections, like meningitis. Nothing solved our problem. And nothing would, because we were treating the symptoms, not the cause.
According to the pediatrician, it was all about the shape of his head. That perfectly round cue ball of a dome was catching any fluid from an average cold and letting it fester until a full blown infection raged and we all lost sleep for a week at a time.
I love modern medicine. I trust it. I want Theo to have every single vaccination available to keep him safe and healthy. Measles, mumps, rubella, flu, give him all of them shots! But I do not want to pump him full of antibiotics. When the Super Bug comes (oh, it's coming) I want my kid to at least have a fighting chance.
Nevertheless, when our pediatrician first mentioned ear tubes, I wasn't into it. Surgery. With anesthesia. That's kind of scary. Fast forward three more ear infections and I found myself eagerly scheduling his surgery at the ENT surgical center at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP). Our surgeon spoke kindly and supportively when he suggested Theo was a prime candidate for ear tubes. I think he was surprised how quickly I pulled out my phone and to talk schedules because okay, people, let's get those suckers in there, mama is TIRED.
Before we left the evaluation, an NP pulled a small bag of ear tubes out of her pocket to show me just what would be going in my son's head. They were no bigger than the tip of a pencil. And hopefully they'd be solving many of our ongoing health problems.
What to expect with ear tube surgery
Here's what happened to day we went into surgery.
5:30 a.m.: I assured Doug he didn't need to come with us. I could handle it. The doctor told me it was a 10-minute procedure. I'm comfortable in a hospital setting. It's cool, it's cool.
6:45 a.m.: When we arrived at CHOP's outpatient surgical center, I saw that I was the only parent flying solo. Mothers and fathers sat quietly and expectantly with their children on their laps. One baby had not only her parents, but her grandparents and what appeared to be an uncle there. Naturally, I pulled out my phone and began furiously texting Doug.
I'M THE ONLY SOLO PARENT HERE HOW COULD YOU?
DON'T WORRY I'LL HANDLE IT I HANDLE EVERYTHING
I HOPE YOUR MEETING IS WORTH IT
I am nothing but the picture of unflappability.
While the other families wait quietly, I let Theo play with the waiting room toys and babble loudly. When I make eye contact with the other parents when they look over at us, I make one of those "Kids, right? What are ya gonna do?" faces and feel like I have completed my waiting room etiquette duties.
7:00 a.m.: A nurse calls us back into the prep room where I answer the same round of questions three times asked by three different nurses. I appreciate their thoroughness. When they ask me if Theo had anything to eat since midnight the night before I admit that I breastfed him that morning even though I wasn't supposed to and had planned on omitting that fact but was hit by a sudden lightening bolt of panic that somehow my breastmilk would interfere with the anesthesia and harm my baby. It would not.
7:10 a.m.: A nurse returns to our prep room and gives Theo a syringe of what they call "giggle juice" to relax him. She warns me that it will make him unsteady on his feet. I wonder if she has ever seen a 13-month old on his feet before.
7:15 a.m.: Theo is very suddenly a tiny, happy drunk.
7:35 a.m.: The team wheels my little baby out in an actual adult-sized hospital bed which is both comical and frightening at the same time. That sight makes me actually truly nervous for the first time.
In the waiting room, I start to read a New Yorker article about the future of AI and spend some time chewing over the question of whether the worry of AI replacing workers is a moot point because we'll all be dead by an environmental catastrophe before then anyway.
8:00 a.m.: Before I can even lose interest in the article and start skimming for cartoons, the surgeon comes out and tells me everything went well. There was so much gunk in Theo's ear canal it's likely he was hearing as if he was underwater for the better part of the winter.
The post-op nurse warns me that babies coming out of anesthesia have various responses, but very often they are angry. I chuckle at the thought of my happy, perfect baby as "angry."
8:15 a.m.: Theo is furious. He is squirmy and confused. Honestly, I don't blame him.
The nurse gives me all the post-op care instructions and shows me how to properly administer his ear drops. She makes a comment about "doing it all yourself" "and asks conspiratorially, "is the father in the picture?" I gleefully relay this to Doug when I call him on the way home to fill him in about what a capable, powerful woman I am and ask him to bring me home a donut as a reward.
After hanging around post-op for another 30 minutes or so to let the anesthesia wear off, we are on our way home and comfortable and happy by 10 a.m.
Ear tube surgery tips
I have nothing but wonderful things to say about the people and processes of the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. Everyone's experience is unique, but here are my key ear tube surgery tips based off of my own experience.
Don't sweat it. Anesthesia is scary but, ultimately, they only give the babies a small hit to keep them still long enough for the procedure. No IV anesthesia is required.
Bring a book or small toy to occupy your child in the pre-opp room. You may be there for up to 30 minutes.
Bring a book or some work to occupy yourself. Nothing good ever comes from an idle mind in a hospital waiting room, no matter how minor the procedure.
Before heading out the door to go home, the nurse gave us a small bottle of sugar water to occupy Theo for the drive home in case he became upset. I wish we had taken 10. He sucked it down in about two minutes and carried the bottle around the rest of the morning. Ask for as many as they're willing to give you. You never know when they might come in handy.
If you think you might need it, put a reminder in your phone to administer the ear drops twice a day. If possible, do it at a time when your partner or a friend might be around to help you. It turns out kids don't always like you putting things in their ears. I found it helpful to let Theo play with the bottle before and after each dose. By the end of the week, he would put the (closed) bottle to his ear himself when I pulled it out and told him it was time for ear drops. Help your toddler be a part of the process and they might enjoy it more.
Four weeks after the procedure, we were back at CHOP's main campus for a follow up. If there is ever a place that makes you want to hold your baby tight and consider the absolute miracle and magnitude of health, it is the waiting room of a children's hospital.
We hadn't had an ear infection in those four weeks -- the longest we'd gone since September without an infection. The ear tubes looked great and Theo passed his hearing test with flying colors.
One week later, Theo had another ear infection. And today, I'm squinting at the screen as I type this out because we were up all night last night with what I assume was a second ear infection. So who, exactly, do I have to murder?
Ear tubes don't have to be scary. The impending environmental apocalypse and Super Bug do though.
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