Thursday, August 1, 2013

Florence Nightengale, at your service

All is well.  Quinn came through with flying colors.  It was suppose to be a 3 hour surgery and it only took about 2 hours.  They were able to *pop* the new bone right in the gap in his gum line (sounds gross to me.)  The surgeon was pleased because the cadaver bone worked and they didn't need to remove any of Quinn's own hip bone (which honestly, I didn't know was plan b.  I'm glad I didn't know that... it would have caused me increased stress yesterday.)

I was able to be with him in the recovery room as he woke up from the anesthesia.  Steve stayed out in the waiting room with the other two.  Thankfully, Children's  Hospital caters to children.  The other two were fully entertained while we were waiting.  Because everything went so well, we ended up being discharged straight away.  We were home and pumping Quinn full of Popsicles by 2:00.

Poor guy really took a beating.  All was so smooth until it was time for him to take his medicine.  He will be on penicillin for the next 6 weeks.  (4 times a day for six weeks is a really long time.)  He put up the biggest fight you've ever seen.  He REFUSED to take his medicine.  Boy, there was a year's worth of sermon illustrations in our evening last night.

He protested so hard and so long he finally threw up all the medicine we eventually got in him.  It was unbelievable.  It was such a horrible scene, even Olivia and Turner made themselves scarce.  The evening ended with Steve and I fighting, Quinn screaming, crying and barfing.  We ARE the epitome of grace under pressure.  Except that we are not.

Surprisingly, in spite of having his face ripped open and new bone shoved in a gap in his face, the kid slept soundly through the night.  Not a peep until 7:30 this morning.  He was definitely blessed with the gift of sleep.  And, apparently, pain tolerance.  Because in addition to his penicillin, he also refused to take any kind of Tylenol.  Crazy!

Because I don't use my brain, I hadn't really put two and two together to realize that this six week recovery means no soccer season for him.  Which is a bummer.  Especially since we just went out and bought him cleats.  But I guess a ball to the face right after reconstruction surgery would not be wise. It wouldn't probably be so sad if the other two kids weren't playing, or if Steve wasn't already signed up to be the coach.  Oops. 

So this is how we will round out our summer vacation.

At least it will be full of Popsicles.

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