My baby has to have surgery. Again.

Oral surgery, and my baby is eight, but it stinks all the same.

Last Wednesday he bounced from the school bus in a pretty good mood, as Wednesday is early release day followed by a park playdate.  While walking home, he mentioned that he had a bump in his mouth. We paused and I peeked. Sure enough, the area where he had oral surgery in September was swelling up again. Again. Freaking Peachy.


(To read why he had surgery to remove his Supernuemray Teeth and the Hell we went through, read here.)

I didn’t write about how Kiddo’s mouth became horribly infected in December. The gums under his incision scar first looked like it formed a blister. Then it swelled up, formed a head like an erupting tooth, and exploded, all in about two days. I took pictures, but I will not gross you out with them.  I was scared to death. The oral surgeon put him on some nasty and hard to find antibiotics, and supposedly he would be fine.

That was a week before Christmas.  The infection has returned. Apparently, he is NOT fine.

As soon as I raced through the door Wednesday afternoon, I called the oral surgeon. We had just been there the week before. We had been at the orthodontist the day before.  I fell into a near panic when the surgeon’s office gave me a run-around, trying to say I needed a new referral and they had to make phone calls and. . . I called the orthodontist, they were right around the corner. Someone had to see my baby, someone had to give us that antibiotic prescription. After some more confusion, we had an appointment for the oral surgeon the next day.

So, Thursday afternoon, after an x-ray and inspection, the surgeon determined that Kiddo’s mouth was indeed infected. Again. And it shouldn’t be.

“You need to give me another sleepy shot and go in and fix it,” Kiddo told him.

 I laughed.

“You know, I think that’s exactly what we’re going to have to do,” the doctor said.

I stopped laughing.

Friday morning, we get to go through it all again. They are going to cut his gums open and try to clean out whatever funk crept into the wound last time. Thank God Kiddo doesn’t remember the last time.  He took Atavan the night before and the morning of the surgery to make him groggy and cause the day fade into a haze. We’ll have to put the numbing cream on for areas for the I.V. — the numbing cream that didn’t do a damn thing last time, because he screamed and cried when they stuck the needle in. I cried as I held him down.  I can only hope I won’t have to carry him out the door after he wakes from the anesthesia, hysterical, unable to understand why he feels that way again. I won’t have to sit with him in the backseat of the car as he pleads for water, though I can’t quench his thirst, for his mouth is numb and swollen.  I know I’ll lay with him in his bed all day, help him through his frustrations as he tries to fight his way out from under the veil of anesthesia, nausea, hunger, and pain.

He is an amazing patient, brave, uncomplaining, and far tougher than I would be.

And I totally don’t want to put him through this again.

On the surface, he is thrilled he gets to miss school next Friday. He missed school last Friday because I was afraid his gums would rupture, and the school wouldn’t know how to deal with it/drain it before I could get there. It didn’t pop. We waited all day Saturday. No pop. Sunday. Still nothing. Picked him up early from school Monday. Waited. Watched. Finally got some action (at bedtime, of course). We’ll see how it goes.

Can you tell he didn’t want to go to school?

Oh, and did I mention that sometime in the not so distant future he is going to have to have surgery AGAIN?  And braces? Not for teeth straightening — that set is still a few years away. I can’t think about that yet, we just have to get though this week. Again.