Enlarging suddenly to grade four,
Leaving my sweet little darling feeling weak and frail,
All through her days,
Oh, those freaking adenoids.
The recurrent infection,
The blocked nose,
The disturbed sleepless night after night,
The startling headaches,
The excruciating ear pain,
The gasping for breath,
Oh, those freaking adenoids.
The endless allopathic medicines,
The hourly - two hourly homeopathic pellets,
The never-ending home remedy recommendations,
All, leaving my head spinning with scheduled medicating,
Oh, those freaking adenoids.
As time goes by,
My heart aches with pain,
I pray for reassurance that all will be well once again,
Only if I could take away all her pain,
But even after everything, her tiny nose is blocked, and she tries to fight it once again.
Oh, those freaking adenoids.
The constant stress,
The nerve-wracking tension,
The endless worry,
The gruesome fear,
Oh, those freaking adenoids.
After months of pain and patience,
We finally opt for surgery,
As we start out early in the morning,
She is clueless,
Until anxiety dawns upon her face.
Although we had cooked up a story of the so-called special medicine,
She goes with the flow and plays along,
Feeling cautious and bewildered,
Feeling restless yet patient,
I try to distract her with my chitter-chatter,
Her father, with his endless hugs and kisses,
Her Dadi, with her fascinating stories,
Her Nanu, with his one-liner jokes.
She was curious about the new surroundings of the room,
Unhappy with the change into hospital clothes,
Cheery with the telephone,
Fascinated with the different lights and switches.
We all impatiently watch the clock face,
Time moves slower than usual,
We anxiously wait for her time.
Finally, we trundle to the Operation Theatre,
I breathe into that special mask,
She breathes into that special mask,
She sees the Ambu bag inflate and deflate repeatedly.
‘It looks like a pumpkin,’ she announces excitedly.
She breathes into that special mask again,
She regards me intensely as her eyes fill with tears,
‘I don’t want this special medicine, Mumma.’
‘I just want to go home,’ she pleads.
‘You need to do this, my love,’ I whisper softly, holding her beautiful face in my hands.
As her body goes drops into heaviness,
Her tired puffy eyes flutter shut,
I catch her as she slowly drifts into coma.
I leave the theatre numbed,
Leaving my precious little girl unconscious on the table,
I whisper prayers of hope,
Trying not to burst out into tears,
Trying to keep my emotions in check,
But then the voice in my head told me… Not today!
Today is the day you have to be strong!
Not for you… but for her.
Oh, those freaking freaking freaking adenoids.
Just get the hell out!
After forty-five minutes of an eternity,
Here comes my darling whimpering with pain,
Her eyes fill with tears,
She is begging to go home,
She is begging to get that bloody cannula off,
She is begging to get the hell out of that hospital,
But what she needed most was love, reassurance, and tight cuddles.
In the end, it was all worth it,
All the tears and pain,
All the patience and strength,
God gives us parents a special superpower,
To make sure we pull through once again.
Oh, those freaking adenoids,
Were finally out!
But we couldn’t have done it,
Without our well-wishers,
Without our loving, reliable family,
Without our trusted team of doctors,
Without God looking down upon us,
Oh, those freaking adenoids,
Were finally out!
My sweet little darling was reborn again.
Relishing different flavors of ice cream,
Inhaling - exhaling from her tiny nose,
Soundly sleeping nights,
Participating in happy, active days
Running here and there full of joy once again,
Enjoying the sweet small moments of life.
Oh, those freaking adenoids.