He was so nervous once we had him dressed in the little hospital gown (puppy in hand, thank goodness they let him take that with him!) and he watched as the little boy ahead of him was led down the hallway, away from his parents. But, miraculously, when it was his turn he went with them just as easily. I was picturing a scene that involved them carrying him away kicking and screaming, literally, but he surprised me! What a brave boy! The surgery went fine (of course) and we eventually went to the recovery room as he was waking up. He was miserable and disoriented. We'd been there several hours and I was starving, that combined with the hospital smells and seeing my little boy in pain, well, I passed out. Almost. I was sitting in a chair so I'm not completely sure, if I was completely gone or not. But, they brought me a stretcher and made me lay down and breath through an oxygen mask. Talk about HUMILIATING!!!
Sam did remarkably well drinking his juice and they let us go pretty soon. That day and the next went just as I thought they would. He was fine, a little grumpy and didn't like to eat or drink, but nothing unexepected. The next morning I realized that he was looking a little....shall we say....stoned. He was still on the prescription meds (doctors orders!) but he looked awful. It was like someone had taken over my little boys body and it really scared me. So we decided to ease him off those on to Tylenol. That's when the misery started, I swear he was going through some sort of withdrawals. He was grumpy like I'd never seen, refused to eat or drink anything and wasn't sleeping. Luckily, I can report that today, day 7, is marginally better. Joe's back to work, we are back to our old routine and I'm starting to see glimpses of the old Sam returning.
I guess that I should have prepared myself better, of course surgery wasn't going to be easy for a 3-year-old!