Friday, January 6, 2012

There is only now.

Today my youngest son, Sam had to go in for hydrocele surgery. Hydroceles are caused during prenatal development when the processus vaginalis ( I don't know. I can't pronounce it either.) membrane fails to close completely. It causes fluid to drain from the abdominal cavity into the scrotal sac then the scrotum swells. If it's not surgically repaired, it can cause a hernia.

 Sam couldn't eat or drink anything after 5:00am and his surgery wasn't until 11:15am. Which was probably a good thing, since he got car sick and threw up twice on the way to Denver. And I thought I was the one with the nervous stomach.

After the four hour hike out of the parking garage and into the hospital, we finally found the admissions desk and signed in. The doctor was actually running early, which was very possibly a world record, and we waited less than ten minutes before we were taken back into the pre-op area. Dressed in his little gown and socks, Sam looked so small on the bed they had him on. But he was smiling and laughing, oblivious, which I think, was a good thing.

Only one of us got to go back with him when they administered the anesthesia, and I won because I was the only one that would fit in the gauzy jumpsuit. I could tell Sam was starting to get a little freaked out when the nurse started rolling him through the hallway. I tried to keep up, but the nurse was also trying to set a new land speed record. In the operating room, Sam kind of whimpered; all the lights and equipment were overwhelming. I may have whimpered, too. They switched him onto the operating table and I was able to lean down next to him while they put the mask over his face. He fought and fought it. One nurse had to hold his hands down, while one held his head, trying to get the mask over his face. I tried so hard not to cry, but I couldn't help it. I had no idea how hard it would be to watch your child be forcefully put to sleep like that. And then having to turn around and leave him? I hope to God that is something I never, ever have to do again.

The surgery was surprisingly quick and only took about 45 minutes. The doctor came out, said everything went well and that someone would be out to get us when Sam woke up. No one ever came...each time the door opened, both my husband and I would look up hoping it was someone looking for us. Their few minutes turned into an hour before a guy in a football jersey and a sleeve of tattoos came out to get us.

"I've never seen a kid not want to wake up like him," he said, leading us back. "I thought that maybe he'd be more responsive to familiar voices."

He wasn't.

Sam just outright did not want to open his eyes. The man with the dragon tattoo finally unhooked all Sam's monitors, IV, etc. and my husband held Sam, trying to wake him up a bit. We stuck a straw in some apple juice and held it to Sam's lips and all of a sudden he was drinking. With his eyes shut. The grape Popsicle, however, got those eyes open. They sent us home with a prescription for Tylenol/Codeine.

Sam slept on the way home and I sat there, so thankful that it was such an easy, successful surgery. It was a simple problem that was treated in a single day. It made me do some reevaluating of my life. No matter how bad it is, of course, it can always be worse and while that's the absolute last thing you want to hear when you're dealing with your personal issues, it is also so true. I thought about all the parents' that take their kids in for surgery, kids whose lives depend on it, kids who spend more time in the hospital than at home. Kids that will never live to see their teens. Parents' that have to accept that and deal with it the best way they can. I was crying over the simple process of administrating anesthesia. My heart goes out to all the families that know that without the hospital, the doctors and the medicine, that their child would be dead. My heart aches for the families that know every nook and cranny of that children's hospital, having walked the halls over and over while their child undergoes another procedure.

The several hours spent there today, made me look at my kids and realize that, yes, I take them for granted and that is the most harmful thing I could do. "In a minute", "I'll play in a second" or "Later". I'm guilty of saying those often, but I don't have a guarantee that there will be a minute or a second or a later. So tonight, we pulled out the games and sat on the floor, eating cheetos and goldfish. There were no "in a second" or "in a little while".

There was only now.

8 comments:

Brian Miller said...

wow there is nothing like something happening to your kids to stop life...thoughts for you and hope he is well today...

Ducky said...

I think I live a little too caught up in "there was only now", if thats possible.

My expensive friend said it was normal after experiencing the sudden tragic death of my sister, but still I just can't seem to every get enough time with my daughter and the ones I love.

you're a good mom <3

Unknown Mami said...

Oh, I am so glad that it went well. It's scary no matter what to have your child have to have any medical procedure.

Tracie said...

I'm guilty of saying those things all the time, too. I don't know how families with chronically ill children do it either. I hope he is fully recovered and you are enjoying each others' company tonight.

Bob said...

I love reading your blog, today's poignant post being a perfect example. It brought a tear to my eye. You're such a beautiful writer with a beautiful heart.

Joshua said...

I'm guilty of the "in a sec" line. However, I usually use that to mean "leave me alone or I'm going to burn your dinner!" kind of way. I'd never say that, of course, but still.

We've been playing a lot of games and doing puzzles now that the kids are a little older and less apt to eat pieces.

I hope Sam is feeling better.

panamamama said...

Great post. Glad Sam is doing good. My boys had dental surgery awhile back and my older one had trouble coming out of the meds. So scary seeing him all disoriented.

Nezzy said...

Let me tell ya, I'm one Mama who knows for sure the world stops when it's your child.

We spent the first year of my daughters life in NICU and then many other operations and procedures until seventh grade.

I hope you little fella got along fantastic and is doin' well now.

I was just thinkin' about you today and wanted to pop over and wish you a beautifully blessed week!!! :o)

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