It has been a rough week

Although I have felt for some time that we were due for a trial, I have tried my best to ignore the inklings or pretend it was my innate ability to worry about everything. I thought perhaps our brush of awesomeness with finding out that Leo is indeed allergic to peanuts and a $200.00 epi-pen purchase was the extent of our rough times-which was altogether a very troublesome experience. Little did I know what we were actually in for.

Last Thursday night to Friday morning, Benson was up in the night throwing up. Keith stayed up with him in the night-where he threw up twice and spent the night watching Spiderman cartoons. Oh Spiderman, how I loathe you. The next day, I had a Target Day planned with my sister. Benson spent the day sleeping in the cart. I figured this had something to do with staying up the whole night. He quickly developed a fever and I figured we were due for another round of the flu bug that has hit a bunch of us this summer. But each day he got worse and by Sunday we were pretty yucky. At one point he diarrhea-d on the couch and didn't even say anything. This is coming from the child who eats EVERY meal with a napkin. At this point, I should have realized it was hospital time, but we decided to wait until morning. That night was the first time we have ever let a child sleep in our bed. I actually quite liked it. Probably because we recently converted to a King Size!

The next morning we headed to the Peds Office. The Dr. did tests for what we were afraid he had: Appendicitis. Although he discovered the same things we had (we have google after all). Can he jump? Yes! Can he bend and touch his toes? Yes! The kid even played a soccer game on Saturday with The Fireballs and scored a few goals. But one thing remained, a very painful right side. So off to get an ultrasound we went. We learned very early on in the ultrasound that Benson did indeed have the dreaded A word. At that point, the radiologist did not believe his appendix had ruptured. He scheduled a surgery for that afternoon. I called Keith and had a mini-nervous breakdown. I called my mom who was already on her way. I had another nervous breakdown. Benson has never even been sick before I swear, and here we were heading for surgery.

I stopped at the house to pick up Keith and farm out our children to some of our favorite family and friends and we were off to meet our Dr. whom everyone so far had praised very highly. We met him. I was not a fan. He was scary. And abrasive. And rude. Yuck. We have learned however that most surgeons are that way in fact. And the more I deal with him, the more I like him. And he has been doing pediatric surgery for millions of years.

We spent the next few hours prepping Benson for surgery. And waiting. And then waiting. And then crying. And then sobbing. Then waiting. Then hyperventilating. We discovered the beauty and wonder that is the Pediatric Wing of the hospital. There is a lady who is strictly assigned to blowing bubbles and pulling the kids around in wagons. And there is a playroom. And movies galore . . . unfortunately those movies include Spiderman cartoons. Benson was a trooper. He was very tired and at 6:00, we wheeled him into the O.R. It was terrifying. He kept saying, "I don't want to have surgery." My mind was filled with "What ifs?" Keith was cool and calm. We bawled as they put him to sleep and wheeled him off.

And then we headed off to the Cafeteria because neither one of us had eaten all day. We had heard about a million different reports of how long the surgery would take and we knew we had at least 45 minutes to eat. We only needed about three. I am pretty sure the people around us wondered why we were snorting. We hurried and ran downstairs to sit in the waiting room. We were pretty proud that we avoided crying while we were snarfing our pasta. Unfortunately we did not avoid it in the waiting room. Well, I didn't anyway. I tried watching the t.v. and that worked while they had the emmy fashion show on. I love that stuff. That lasted about 4 minutes and then I was pacing. We checked out the giftshop. I talked on the phone. I stared down the doors of the O.R. We listened to a lady who had about a million grocery bags around her hack up a lung in the waiting room. She seriously coughed for at least 30 minutes.

45 minutes passed. Then an hour. Then 90 minutes. Torture. Although there were several in there who were waiting when we got there and were waiting when we left. I was very happy to not be one of those people. At the two hour mark, I saw the face of the Dr. whom I despised earlier. He walked out of those doors my hero. I wanted him to come out jumping up and down saying he was the best patient ever, but this was not his personality. I just wanted to stop having silly worries. He proceeded to tell us that the surgery went well. That his appendicitis was a "Stage 4" out of 5. That his appendix had ruptured, but instead of blowing up every where, it slowly leaked and could have been much worse.

We then had to wait for him to come out of recovery. Oh how I wanted to go in and squeeze him and kiss him and love on him. But we had to wait. And wait. And wait. And bug the people coming out of the doors. And pretty soon a ginormous bed with a tiny body came out. A tiny body that belongs to me. And the tears came. Our sweet little Benson looked tired. We began to talk to him and tell him we loved him. The poor boy was so hoarse. The nurse helping us back said that he refused water when they offered and all he would say was "mom." Cue the "Awwwwws."

We made it back to room 41 and tried to make him comfortable. He was very sleepy. And now that he had mom, he wanted water. And then they said he couldn't have any. Seriously? The most frustrating thing about this entire process (aside from the fact that we have to deal with it at all) is that everyone tells you something different. They finally let me sponge water into his mouth. That night when I was swabbing his mouth, his first words were, "Mom, this water feels berry good." He did surprisingly good that night and requested water lots of times.

The next day and today have been pretty rough. He is not his usual self. He is mad. And ornery. And scared. He freaks out any time a nurse or Dr. or custodian comes into his room. It is the first time in this kid's life he has been obstinate and purposefully mean. When you ask him to go potty, he says "No! No! No! NO! NO!" When you tell him it is time to go for walk he says, "I won't do it! No! NO!" It is terrible.

All he wants to do is watch a movie. We have watched at least 5000. Sometimes we watch a few in the middle of the night. He is exhausted and falls asleep often. He gets sweaty when people even start to mess with him. Occasionally, we get a glimpse of our sweet five year old. I have been calling them his "chocolate milk smiles" because his biggest smile came with the advancement of chocolate milk to his diet. He smiles when we take him out for a wagon ride, especially if we get to go outside. He smiled when he heard his brother was coming. He smiled when he heard his cousins were coming. He smiled when his grandparents came. His best smiles came tonight when we played Xbox in the playroom and he kept beating me. But those smiles don't last long. Mostly he is mad. I think he is in a lot of pain, but he is getting better.

It is getting late, and I wish I could think of other cute things he has said. When Keith leaves, he asks for his dad to come back. When the Dr.'s do something, he asks if mom can do it instead. He asks me to say prayers with him. He requests I am a Child of God and I Love to See the Temple whenever he gets scared or hurts. I have found myself say and think often, that I am grateful he is my child that is experiencing this. He is so calm and mellow and wonderful, even when he is grouchy.

I only have a crying attack every thirty minutes or so. With each day they get fewer and far between, although they generally last longer. I am so grateful for my husband, and grateful that if I have to go through a rough time, I get to do it with him. I have a strong testimony that my Heavenly Father loves me. He loves my family. He loves Benson. And He is in control. The Atonement brings me peace. How amazing is the Savior's love for us. I am so grateful that he can help me carry my burdens. The gospel is the greatest blessing in my life.

Thanks for reading. And caring. We are so grateful for our families and friends. We still have some rough days ahead. But they will get better. The one thing we hear most is, "Can we take your son home?" or "Your child is easily the cutest child we have up here." or "He is breaking my heart." Benson really is the best boy.

Tomorrow I will post more pictures of my cutie pie. Thanks for all of your prayers on our behalf. Keep them coming.