One for the Baby Book

Our smallest son had surgery today. A very minor, elective surgery to remove a mass in his neck that had been growing since his birth. It formed while he was still curled up in my womb. A bit of residual cartilage from his trachea that never reabsorbed into his body.

We scheduled our 6:30 AM hospital arrival carefully. Cubby is a beast in the morning. Literally. He eats so much food and drinks so much juice/milk/water that we knew the whole fasting thing would be poorly received by him. We transitioned quickly, from the house to the car, from the car to the patient access center. Dozens of other families waited in the access center for various medical procedures, tests and surgeries. Cubby sat quietly on his father's lap, clutching his fluffy Elmo doll and looking around the room. He is still sporting quite the shiner under his right eye, it has faded down to a sickly yellow color. I love how rascally it makes him look.

After check in we went to the pre-op area. Its strange going into that room, your body is acutely aware that in less than an hour your child will be brought under anesthesia and cut open by a surgeon you have only met once in your life. My senses felt heightened this morning when we walked in there, I was fixated on Cubby. But there was no missing the other children in the room. A few of the kids lay still on their beds, their illnesses quite obvious. One little girl in particular waited in the partition next to Cubby. She was directly across from the entrance door and whoever entered would look up and find themselves greeted by a startling sight. This little girl looked to be about 5 or 6 years old, with beautiful long brown hair and the most deformed face I have ever personally seen in my life. I felt slugged in the gut. Her parents knew everyone on staff and everyone on staff knew them. Relationships that had obviously been formed at her birth and had lasted for many many years and through various surgeries. We sat waiting for Cubby's sedative for a good while. I couldn't stop thinking about the face on the other side of the curtain. What a strange childhood, growing up in hospitals and having countless surgeries. The beauty of her spirit seemed bolder to me than her deformities. You could tell just by being near her. You could just imagine the face she could have been born with in a perfect world, smiling and laughing and most likely covered in ice cream. I can't imagine that I will ever forget her face or the smiles of her parents. I didn't want to sit there and mull over some tremendous life lesson or example from them, it felt wrong to do so. I simply felt great respect for her life and for the love her parents so plainly showered on her. Lives so very different from ours, separated by a thin curtain.

Cubby's surgery lasted under half an hour. He came out of the PACU fast asleep and looking like an angel from a Victorian Trading Company catalogue. He slept for another hour in a smaller recovery room . Under nurses orders, we finally had to jostle him awake.

He looked a bit like he'd been experimenting with mushrooms. Poor kid couldn't focus his eyes for some time and when I finally managed to sit him up, he kept leaning the back of his head into my hand and falling asleep. The nurse brought over an adult sized cup of juice with a large straw as Cubby came to grips with the reality of his universe.

"DRINK IT S L O W L Y," she commanded with a gruff.

I should note here that Cubby usually pounds his drinks down in less than two minutes. He throws his head back and chugs until everything is gone.

I gave her a smile and J gently held the straw to Cubby's lips so that he could drink. His first sips made him cough and shudder. His throat must have still felt raw from the breathing tube. He finished the entire drink in about five minutes. Which for Cubby...is pretty slow.

I assumed that he would need to drink more juice and so I made my way back up to the nurses station, empty cup in had, and asked if my son should get a refill of juice or water.

3 pairs of eyes bugged out at me.

"HE DRANK IT ALL??? ALREADY???"

"Um, yes. Is that a problem? You gave us a full cup so we assumed..."

" I JUST GAVE IT TO YOU!"

"well, my son usually drinks fast..."

"HE IS GOING TO VOMIT."

"ok"

He didn't vomit. Slugger is a champ." Go big or go home," as J always says to him.

A few minutes later the old dragon walked back to our side of the recovery room and gave him the once over. She seemed satisfied enough. We waited for the IV to be taken out, dressed him into his pajamas again and headed home.

I feel exhausted. I don't know how some parents can go to the hospital day after day for so long. I know why they go, but I wonder if God supplies moments of super human strength to get them through the day.

We are blessed to be home with Cubby. Rejoicing that we had this mass removed before any infection or serious growth took place and praising God that all went well for him. He is sleeping perfectly in his little crib right now, his head resting on his big brother's pillow.