There definitely was a higher being that oversaw events today. Days of mild-ish anxiety culminated in finally taking N in for his surgery early this morning. The minute we stepped into the hospital, he knew something was going to happen, and became clingy as hell. Even in the midst of what must have been a scary situation for him, he ran and gave the ENT surgeon whom he had met on two occasions before, a big hug. The spontaneity of childhood...
I finally walked with the surgeon and the anesthesiologist (who was the most re-assuring professional I have met in a long time) into the OR with N in my arms. I was strangely very calm, even as his anxiety had to have been on the rise. The OR was a bustle of activity and once again, I was amazed by the professionalism, the efficiency and the attitude of the staff in there. The last time I was blown away by that, in spite of the state that I had been in, was when N was born. Then, I was almost in awe of the way I had been treated, and the way in which absolutely the most intense moments of my life - when my first child was born, was made as comfortable for me as was possible. Today, I saw that same level of concern and commitment. I can never get over how well these people do their jobs here in this country, how they make you feel like they care. And so, I just decided to trust them to take care of N. And I was so calm there today in the OR, as they began to administer the gas through a mask over his nose and mouth, and he began to struggle. My only focus of the moment was to make sure he knew that I was right there with him. I held him close even as they began to make him inhale the gas that would knock him out, which would then let them inject the anesthesia into him. In a matter of seconds he was asleep, I gave him a quick kiss and left the OR. Now all we had to do was wait...
An hour or so later, we saw him. He was disoriented and crying, and once he was back in my arms, I started to calm him down. My poor baby. And unbelievably, in a few minutes he started to recover. Enough to make the doctors say that we could take him home right away, instead of having to stay the night at the hospital as originally anticipated. I am just so thankful that everything went off ok.
Even though he's been on pain medication, he's still in considerable pain, and the offer of unlimited ice-cream seems not to be able to mitigate that. Which is saying that he's in a LOT of pain. And still the child is bearing it with a dignity I cannot fathom.
As always, I have so much to learn from the little guy.
I finally walked with the surgeon and the anesthesiologist (who was the most re-assuring professional I have met in a long time) into the OR with N in my arms. I was strangely very calm, even as his anxiety had to have been on the rise. The OR was a bustle of activity and once again, I was amazed by the professionalism, the efficiency and the attitude of the staff in there. The last time I was blown away by that, in spite of the state that I had been in, was when N was born. Then, I was almost in awe of the way I had been treated, and the way in which absolutely the most intense moments of my life - when my first child was born, was made as comfortable for me as was possible. Today, I saw that same level of concern and commitment. I can never get over how well these people do their jobs here in this country, how they make you feel like they care. And so, I just decided to trust them to take care of N. And I was so calm there today in the OR, as they began to administer the gas through a mask over his nose and mouth, and he began to struggle. My only focus of the moment was to make sure he knew that I was right there with him. I held him close even as they began to make him inhale the gas that would knock him out, which would then let them inject the anesthesia into him. In a matter of seconds he was asleep, I gave him a quick kiss and left the OR. Now all we had to do was wait...
An hour or so later, we saw him. He was disoriented and crying, and once he was back in my arms, I started to calm him down. My poor baby. And unbelievably, in a few minutes he started to recover. Enough to make the doctors say that we could take him home right away, instead of having to stay the night at the hospital as originally anticipated. I am just so thankful that everything went off ok.
Even though he's been on pain medication, he's still in considerable pain, and the offer of unlimited ice-cream seems not to be able to mitigate that. Which is saying that he's in a LOT of pain. And still the child is bearing it with a dignity I cannot fathom.
As always, I have so much to learn from the little guy.
1 comment:
I'm sure you're both relieved that its all over. So are all of us. Hope he recovers soon.
*Big Hug* to N!
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