Everyone here at Chez Bloom is sick -- except for Miss I. I have spent about a week under blankets, a week during which Miss I has petted my head and said things like "Oh Mommy, you're so cute." That's real love -- because I assure you there is nothing actually cute about me right now.
Miss I. hasn't been sick, but she is having surgery soon. After two years of house-shaking snoring and sleep apnea, speech difficulties (which, to be honest, I will miss), and a permanent runny nose (which I won't miss -- while I'm generally opposed to retouching photographs I can say I have digitally wiped her nose more than once), she'll be having a tonsil and adenoidectomy.
The risks of the procedure are relatively low, and certainly less than a lifetime of sleep apnea. But this is one of those times were *adoption* becomes an issue (as if it isn't part of our daily lives, which I don't mean to imply). Because we don't have a family history, her ENT has more concerns about bleeding and post-op complications. We're running a battery of pre-op tests, and they're planning on keeping her for two days even though most patients go home after one. I'm sure everything will be fine, and in comparison to the experiences of one of our beautiful friends, this is nothing -- but it is something that reminds us how much harder the road is for adoptees. Family members assure me that surgery on your child is always scary (which I know to be true from experience with Little Bun) but this, like so many things already, comes with the added unknown -- and there's only more to come.