Noah slept through the night last night for the first time in a week. That also means I slept through the night last night for the first time in a week.
This whole tonsil surgery? Not fun. Really, really not fun, especially when the child having said surgery has a VERY LOW pain tolerance. I know I won’t get Mother of the Year when I say this (not that I was ever in the running), and I say it in the most loving way possible, but my kid is kind of a wimp. Seriously. He gets a hangnail and it’s the end of the world. He screams over scratches. It had gotten to the point that Christian and I wondered what he would do if he was ever REALLY hurt.
Well, now we know. If Noah was ever REALLY hurt:
~The pain medication that he is supposed to take every four to six hours will wear off after three.
~He will get nauseous and not be able to keep said pain medication down, which will result in a midnight trip to the emergency room. Since he hates needles, his kind parents will wait and wait and wait for oral anti-nausea medications to work so that he does not have to have an IV, and we will not leave the ER until 4am.
~Several nights in a row, he will wake up in pain and scream, for an HOUR, loudly enough to wake the neighborhood.
~He won’t think I am sympathetic enough during this hour of screaming, and he will start yelling for Daddy, who is sleeping peacefully in the bedroom in the basement.
~If the doctor tells us the recovery time is seven to ten days, it will definitely be ten (or more).
Yes, now we know. God forbid he ever break a bone. I don’t think I would live through it.