7:30pm and All Is Well

What a day, what a day.

Currently James is sleeping soundly in his bed.  He's got Tylenol (plus a little Melatonin) coursing through his system.  He ate a decent dinner and has had a fair amount to drink today.  I pray he rests very, very well.

I cannot thank you all enough for your kind words of encouragement and support and prayers.  I really and truly think all our prayers were answered today, a true blessing from the Lord.

My only complaint about the day was that the doctor came to talk to me about the surgery WHILE I was holding my screaming, flailing, octopus-like child post-surgery.  I had questions.  Lots of them.  The doctor was showing me the pictures she took (which I asked her to take) of his mouth all the while asking if I'm okay.  I'm pretty sure the look on my face was unsettled.  I needed to get my child more calmed down before I could continue the conversation with the doctor, but I missed my window.  By the time James was acting more human, the doctor was gone.  I'll ask the rest of my questions in a week when we get the pathology results back.

Tears flowed for me again this afternoon as I spoke with my mother-in-law about walking with James back to the OR.  That was a traumatizing experience for me.  Would I do it again if I had to?  Absolutely.  Did it crush my heart to do it?  Absolutely.  I think it helped him to be carried by me to the OR, placed on the OR table while all the strangers gathered around him.  He looked suspiciously at everyone, but he didn't cry.  The crying didn't start until they put the mask to his face to put him to sleep.  He didn't like that part and therefore didn't cooperate.  That's the point when I helped hold down his arms so they could mask him to sleep.  That's when internally I started to lose it.  It just seemed so freakin' cruel to do this to him.  Here I am helping pin him down and he's fighting with all his strength.  In my head I was begging for him to go to sleep quickly.  It couldn't have been more than a minute or so before he stopped fighting and started drifting off to sleep.  That's the point that I started to lose it externally.  They quickly ushered me out of the OR.  That was the time they would have escorted me out regardless, but I'm sure they were trying to help me out by getting me out of there expeditiously.  The nurse walking me out kept assuring me he was in good hands.  I had no doubt about that.  Honestly, I didn't.  I knew he was asleep and wasn't hurting and would be just fine.  I was just upset that I'd witnessed my child fighting so hard and then going limp.  I'm in the medical field.  I knew what to expect.  I didn't anticipate having such trouble with what I was going to see.  Boy oh boy was I wrong.

On a brighter note, James took a couple of naps today and played some in between.  He was pretty unsteady on his feet, falling more than usual.  And he wasn't very interested in playing by himself.  To be expected.  Scott and I both spent a lot of time with him.  I am just so grateful that we're home and he gets to sleep in his own bed.

If you want to see the pictures they took in the OR, email me at baacuff at mac dot com.  I didn't want to post them here and risk traumatizing people that don't want to see medical pictures.  (Scott would be included in that demographic.  Not that he reads this blog...)

May your evening be peaceful, restful, and full of gratitude.  Mine sure is.