Poor Pipsqueak

My little pipsqueak had to have hernia surgery last Thursday. Actually, he was supposed to have the surgery a month ago. I had made a coffee cake for breakfast for the kids and grandma to cook before school. Once out of the oven, Jeff gave Seth a teeny tiny piece thinking that wouldn't do any harm. This was all before I was downstairs or grandma was here. Well, suffice it to say that Seth did not get surgery that day. When the aneshesia docs say no food they mean it. So, our surgery was rescheduled to last Thursday. I kept Seth in bed until it was time to walk out the door so no one would feed him (his power of persuasion is undeniable.) His surgery went fine but when I gave him his Tylenol 3, he threw up and then wouldn't eat for about 4 days. He finally pinked up and would eat and play until this past Tuesday. Throughout the night Monday night he would wake up and cry and then fall back asleep. He did that several times through the night. Tuesday he kept his knees drawn up to his chest and wouldn't let me put him down. As the day went on, I noticed his incision site getting red and he developed a fever. A four-o-clock phone call to the doctor left me with 2 conclusions: doctors are selfish and they think the rest of us are idiots. The doctor wanted Seth to be seen in HIS town when one of his residents could look at the wound and relay the information (because of course he was going home for the day). When I asked the nurse why my doctor couldn't relay the same information to the doctor, she simply said it would be best if we came to Springfield. So after cancelling our dinner plans, which I was so looking foward to, Jeff and I packed up the 5 kids and went to the Springfield ER (for what I believed was a postsurgical infection requiring antibiotics). Once we were at St. John's Jeff overheard the receptionist telling someone else that it was a 5 hour wait. Being the problem solver Jeff is and very impatient to boot, he gets the doctor on the phone and within 10 minutes we are going up to peds to use one of their beds. The resident looks at Seth for maybe 2 seconds and says "yep, its infected" and wrote the prescrition. Now, 2 days later he is 80% back to normal. Thank God. My camera battery is dead and don't have any pictures. A friend brought him a postsurgical gift and I wish I could have gotten a picture of him when he opened it. It was a crayola paint set, a race car and a ball. God help the person who comes between him and his ball.