Friday, September 28, 2012

Surgery

Will fell at daycare yesterday and broke his arm. My lovely little boy broke it so bad he needed two pins to put the bones back in place, which required surgery to do so. Today was the fifth time I have handed over one of my children to a surgeon. MJ had 3, and this was Will's 2nd. It all happened so fast I didn't have a whole lot of time to think about it all, which I am thankful for. It was a lot easier to go on autopilot 'mom mode' and get him in to urgent care, the orthopedic surgeon, and then the hospital for surgery.

It really hit me today when they started to give him medicine to relax and calm him before they took him away for surgery. He was given versed to help relax and make him quite loopy. The nurse was explaining what versed was. I wanted to say, 'I already know what it is, his twin was doped up with it basically his entire life'. But I didn't. It wasn't worth it to me to bring up all the old feelings that were flashing through my mind. Then she put a pulse-ox on him and explained what that was. Again, I wanted to say, 'Yeah I am fully aware of what that is, it is one of the few momentos I have from his brother after he died, and it is currently sitting in a shadow box in my room, next to his ashes.' I hate that a 'normal' (whatever that is) parent would need to know what that is. Not this momma; not a NICU momma. As they were about to wheel him away my eyes got really teary, but then the versed made him so loopy it was so funny it lightened the mood up for both of us quickly.

Then after his surgery, when they woke him up, he had an IV and the machines were beeping measuring his oxygen level. Those sounds brought SO.MUCH.BACK. I remember staring at those machines begging God to let MJ's oxygen levels come back up. Will was statting at about 98-99% oxygen. I'm not sure if I ever remember MJ statting that high. His goal was 92% or better. The lowest it got was 17%, and that was when we decided to take him off the machines. At that point the nurses turned the monitors away so we couldn't see them. I am thankful I don't have a memory of 0% on that screen.

I swear this better be the last surgery for my children for many, many years. My heart won't be able to take it for a long time.

1 comments:

Mrs. A said...

Just found your blog through the faces of loss website. I recently loss my son to CDH as well. He lived 4months and 7 days in the ICU. I know that feeling of being versed in so much medical jargon. I see/hear acronyms and it hurts that I understand them all too well.....