Greetings my dear and darling readers. I wanted to apologize for not making a proper post yesterday. I’m working through some serious computer upgrade issues at work, and I’ve had a few evening commitments on my calendar that have been distracting me from my usual writing. In truth, I didn’t even realize I hadn’t finished my post for the day until 3:00 this morning when I was up with the little Saurus.
We’re also having some issues with him at the moment. Because he’s had so many ear infections in his short life, the doctor wants him to be seen by an ENT (ears, nose, throat) specialist to see if he’s a candidate for ear tubes. I’m told this is a very normal and common thing for tots his age, with little risk. In fact the only risk really, is the general anesthesia they will use to perform the procedure. (That and a tiny scar on his eardrum from where the cut was made to insert the tubes.)
And, even though I know that we’ll be in excellent hands, the risks of the procedure still worry me. I’m feeling responsible for all the ear infections because I have to work and he needs to be in a daycare center all day, where he picked up all these damn colds to begin with. I’m torturing myself because the ear infections may be causing fluid in his ears, which may be resulting in “glue ear” (don’t google it, unless you want to feel sad and depressed for little kids who can’t hear). Basically, his hearing (if he has fluid) is like listening to the world underwater.
The results of all this could be causing a speech delay (gut drops at that conclusion), and that we’ll have to investigate a hearing test, and perhaps speech therapy to get him back to where he needs to be. The idea makes me feel like such a failure, and it’s hard not to feel personally responsible for all this happening. Over and over, my mind says, “if you didn’t have to work, if you could have kept him home with you, if only, if only, if only…” and it’s hard to shut off that part of my mind.
But in a week, we’ll have our appointment, we’ll have more information and know what our next steps are. I am grateful to live in a country with access to such care, covered by our insurance, and so easily accessible (although kudos to my husband for wading through the seemingly in-navigable waters of bureaucracy to procure the appointments for our little dude). I’m happy to live in an age where this problem can be addressed and hopefully cured without further incident. But still, every minute is hard, because he’s all I can think about.