On a recent weekday morning, I went into my son’s room to wake him for the day.
I followed my normal routine of singing the “Good Morning to You” song, carried him to the living room for his morning milk and cuddled him for a bit afterward. He ran sprightly to his bedroom and made me “chase” him around the rocking chair in his room. I successfully caught him and set him down on his changing table, and that’s when I saw it.
Goo. Brown goo. In his ear. Plastered on the side of his face. Sticking wads of hair together.
I emitted a silent shriek, yet somehow managed to keep a giant smile on my face. I often wonder what kids think of adults who try to smile through surprise or fear so as to not alarm them. I imagine we look like psychotic clowns, and probably just as scary.
Now, the ears, nose and throat doctor warned that there would be drainage associated with the tubes that were surgically implanted in my son’s ears. He said it would look be dark brown in color, much like that of ear wax.
What I was not prepared for was the consistency and volume of said discharge. No one told me a small bucket-full was going to flush out at night.
Someone also failed to mention that it is pretty watery in consistency when first discharged, but then firms up to be the consistency of peanut brittle on his delicate skin.
The ear tubes are like the sump pumps of wax. You never know when or where a discharge is going to happen, but when it does, some might mistake what is going on for a scene out of “The Wrath of Khan.”
Baby wipes help if the ooze still is in its liquid form, but I rarely have the benefit of that. Now I keep a small jackhammer at his changing table station, just in case a layer of brittle has formed overnight.
Just as I thought I had a handle on it, eye goo started to appear. Seriously, my pediatrician and I are on a first-name basis.
— Sarah Leach is content editor at The Holland Sentinel. Contact her at (616) 546-4278 or sarah.leach@hollandsentinel.com.
I followed my normal routine of singing the “Good Morning to You” song, carried him to the living room for his morning milk and cuddled him for a bit afterward. He ran sprightly to his bedroom and made me “chase” him around the rocking chair in his room. I successfully caught him and set him down on his changing table, and that’s when I saw it.
Goo. Brown goo. In his ear. Plastered on the side of his face. Sticking wads of hair together.
I emitted a silent shriek, yet somehow managed to keep a giant smile on my face. I often wonder what kids think of adults who try to smile through surprise or fear so as to not alarm them. I imagine we look like psychotic clowns, and probably just as scary.
Now, the ears, nose and throat doctor warned that there would be drainage associated with the tubes that were surgically implanted in my son’s ears. He said it would look be dark brown in color, much like that of ear wax.
What I was not prepared for was the consistency and volume of said discharge. No one told me a small bucket-full was going to flush out at night.
Someone also failed to mention that it is pretty watery in consistency when first discharged, but then firms up to be the consistency of peanut brittle on his delicate skin.
The ear tubes are like the sump pumps of wax. You never know when or where a discharge is going to happen, but when it does, some might mistake what is going on for a scene out of “The Wrath of Khan.”
Baby wipes help if the ooze still is in its liquid form, but I rarely have the benefit of that. Now I keep a small jackhammer at his changing table station, just in case a layer of brittle has formed overnight.
Just as I thought I had a handle on it, eye goo started to appear. Seriously, my pediatrician and I are on a first-name basis.
— Sarah Leach is content editor at The Holland Sentinel. Contact her at (616) 546-4278 or sarah.leach@hollandsentinel.com.
No comments:
Post a Comment