Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Surgery Day

He was in high spirits when we got here.
It's here, we're here.

They got Aaron in on a last case surgery for today.  It should be easy peasy.  It should be no big deal.  I should be able to handle this.  After all, I've certainly done it enough.

Yeah, and maybe that's the problem.  I've done it enough.  Oh, there are no more surprises in the pre-op area or waiting room.  I know the drill, I know the rooms, the people, the set-up.  I know that they're going to take him away, and I'll wait and wait.  And time becomes really fluid.  If I can focus on something else, it speeds up.  And then I watch the clock and it crawls almost to a stop.

If I can't see you, you can't see me.
Like his shirt?  #Wasn'tMe
I know the speech:  Heart kids, pulmonary hypertensive kids, they have more risks, it's harder, but they generally do well.  We'll watch him close.  His is pretty high, huh?  Yep, pretty high.  That's a good way to describe it.  Pretty high.

So tired, thought he'd take a nap before
surgery.  Silly kid, he's going to get to
sleep even more.
We're supposed to go home tonight. Surgery is supposed to be about an hour.  There will be about ten stitches around his stoma in his neck, but they're dissolvable, and unlike the original surgery, if the trach comes out, or we have to change it in the next day or so, that's okay.  But better to wait a week or two.  Yeah, nothing too extreme, earth shattering.  But still, it kinda feels like it.

Most of the time, honest, this trach life is no big deal.  Really, we don't even really think about it.  Even when there's a plug, we deal with it and go on.  But this week, well, this week trach life has been really rough, at least in the space between my ears.
And he's off.

I've come to realize that there are things I couldn't imagine ever doing, that I know I WOULD do if I had to.  I'll spare you the details, but if the trach came out, I would get one back in, no question, regardless of what had to happen.  He would have an airway.  He's my son, and I would do it.  Not being sure that someone else would meant that I couldn't leave him, or let him leave, with a nurse.

But now that he's in, the trach, the airway, will be just fine.  We'll have a secure airway again.  Now it's his heart.  Can his heart handle this?  I'm actually fairly confident that it will, eventually.  But will that awful pulmonary hypertension rear its ugly head?  Will we end up with an extended stay?  It's been a long time since we've been allowed to go home the same day of a surgery because of that ugly beast, but today we're hoping.

Yesterday with his brother at the Museum of Art.
So I'm sitting here, waiting, praying.  There are others in here waiting, too.  And we all hope, pray and wait together.  Praying for surgeons, praying for our children, praying that it all works the way it's supposed to.

The tech just came out to get his wheelchair with vent.  It looks like they're done, although he's not awake yet.  I'll be heading back to see him soon.  That really was fast, which hopefully is a good sign.  Less time than they expected, 40 minutes instead of an hour.  A couple years ago it was an hour 20 instead of 15 minutes.  I think I like this one better

"You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have."

1 comment:

  1. Waiting and praying. And doing the hard mental and emotional work of willingly shouldering the heavy load. It takes a toll, but you're right---it's reveals more of the true us. Love you, lady.