Cleft Palate Surgery

Matteo had his palate surgery today.  I’m happy to have it over with and I’m sure Matteo would be too if he were able to understand that he'll soon feel much better than he feels now.  As of now, though, he's in a lot of pain and knocked out on medications. 

As I sat in the pre-op bay waiting for the call from the nurse that Matteo was out of surgery, I felt guilty for putting him through all this.  Since he’s lived with an open cleft palate for so long, the surgery started to feel elective and as if I was putting him through unnecessary pain.  I’ve never met anyone before who had an open palate, so I was expecting the complications to be a lot worse than they’ve turned out to be.  There's not a lot he can't do - straws and pronounce certain sounds.  Side effects are minimal.  He drools some, and while food occasionally oozes out of his nose, it doesn’t come shooting out like I had imagined.  In my opinion, he was getting along  just fine. 

Despite my second-guessing, I know that palate surgery is very necessary and the best thing for Matteo.  Closing his palate will allow his speech to improve, and as used to and accepting of it as we are, not having food come out your nose in any amount is a major quality of life enhancer. 

We checked in at noon for what was supposed to be a 1:30 p.m. surgery.  For anyone who’s ever had surgery, you’ll immediately know the afternoon surgery time meant that my morning was spent trying to distract my son from the fact that he was starving.  He hadn’t eaten anything since dinner the night before and was only allowed to have clear liquids up until a few hours before surgery. Matteo has always been a good eater, which surprisingly kind of worked in my favor this morning.  I served everyone else bowls of Cheerios for breakfast, but when I put a bowl of jello in front of Matteo, he ate it without question.  I’ve never seen him complain about food, so he dug in like jello is a normal thing to have for breakfast.  He wasn’t a fan of the Italian Ice (I thought it’d be less messy than a Popsicle), but seemed thrilled to be allowed to drink as much apple juice as he wanted. 

Snack time came right before the cut-off time for liquids of any kind.  I sent the other kids upstairs with Marcel for their snack and served Matteo another bowl of jello.  I could tell he was disappointed.  He kept pointing at the box of crackers he spied on the counter in the kitchen.  We left for the hospital not long after snack time and he quietly whimpered to himself the whole way there.  Poor kid.  I’ve been in his situation and knew he was miserably hungry. 

The rest of the afternoon was pretty boring.  The Gillette’s staff is wonderful and helped us make the best of our wait.  The nurses brought toys, books and stickers for Matteo and someone from their Child Life Services team brought in a giant teddy bear and medical equipment to try to show Matteo what he could expect.  He just wanted to “paint” chapstick onto the inside of the teddy bear’s breathing mask.  We found the wagons and I wheeled him around the nurses station and up and down the hall in front of the pre-op bays.  We had some fun moments where Matteo’s playful and fun-loving personality came to life, but mostly he was sad, especially when anyone in scrubs came to visit.  And I know he was starving.  He kept walking over to my purse and whimpering, because my purse is where I often keep snacks when I’m out and about with the kids.  “I’m sorry, I don’t have any snacks,” I said over and over again to my son who doesn’t even understand English yet. 

Almost an hour and a half after his surgery was scheduled, it was finally time to go.  The team of doctors and nurses let me carry him back to the operating room and I helped him lie down on the operating table and held his hand as he fought sleep. 

Chris arrived shortly before his operation was finished and the doctor came out to meet with the two of us.  The surgery had gone well and the doctor discussed post-operation care with us.  The bottom line is that for the next two weeks, Matteo’s diet is limited to whatever can be pureed.  Lots of smoothies, ice cream and pudding will be on the menu.  I asked about the arm restraints, nicknamed “no-no’s”, that kids wear to keep them from getting their hands into their mouths and interfering with recovery.  The doctor laughed.  A sturdy two-and-a-half-year-old like our son is going to figure out how to get those things off and throw them at us, he explained.  Chris and I looked at each other and laughed.  That would totally be Matteo!

We finally received the call to come back to the recovery room to see Matteo.  We could hear him crying before we even saw him and my heart broke when the nurse pulled the curtain back.  He was going in and out of sleep and I could see he was in a lot of pain.  A really sweet recovery room nurse explained what they do to keep kids as comfortable as possible and assured us that this reaction immediately post-surgery was normal.  Chris and I stroked his hand and head, which is about the most we could touch him at that point, and I fought back tears.  I remembered the Child Life Services staff member telling me about the therapy dogs that visit the hospital daily.  I know the dogs are technically for the kids, but I really needed a pick-me-up at that moment!

Chris is staying overnight in the hospital with Matteo and reported that he’s mostly slept, but did wake up and have something to drink and ate a few spoonful’s of pudding.